Stone of Tears

Her frown withered to a look of consternation. “What is it I can do for you, young man,” she said in an uneasy voice.

Richard worked at keeping threat out of his tone. He didn’t think he was very successful. “Kahlan. Where can I find her.”

Her face turned nearly as white as her apron. “You would be Richard. She told me of you. You look like she said.”

“Yes! Where is she!”

Mistress Sanderholt swallowed. “I’m sorry, Richard,” she whispered. The council sentenced her to death. The sentence was carried out at the winter solstice festival.”

Richard stood staring down at the thin woman. He was having difficulty deciding if they were talking about the same person.

“I think you misunderstood,” he managed. “I mean the Mother Confessor. Mother Confessor Kahlan Amnell. You must be talking about someone else. My Kahlan can’t be dead. I came as fast as I could. I swear I did.”

Her eyes were filling with tears. She tried to blink them away as she stared up at him. Slowly, she shook her head.

She put a bandaged hand to his side. “Come, Richard. You look as if you could use a meal. Let me get you bowl of soup.”

Richard dropped his pack, bow, and quiver to the floor.

The Central Council sentenced her to death?”

She gave a weak nod. “she escaped, but was caught. The Central Council reiterated the sentence before the people at the behead… at the execution. And then the members of the council all stood smiling while the people cheered them.”

“Maybe she escaped again. She’s a resourceful woman…”

“I was there,” she said in a broken voice, tears running down her face. “Please don’t make me tell you what I saw. I’ve known Kahlan since she was born. I loved her.”

Maybe there was a way to go back somehow, and get here in time. There had to be a way. He felt hot and dizzy.

No. He was too late. Kahlan was dead. He had had to let her die to stop the Keeper. The prophecy had beaten him.

Richard gritted his teeth. “Where is the council.”

At last she managed to take her eyes from him. She pointed a bandaged hand down the hall and gave him directions.

She turned back. “Please, Richard, I loved her, too. Nothing can be done now. You can accomplish nothing.”

But he was already moving, the mriswith cape flying behind as he swept down the hall. He saw only enough of what was around him as he moved swiftly along to follow the directions she had given him. He moved toward the council chambers the way his arrows flew to the target when he called it.

Guards were everywhere, but he paid them no heed. He had no idea if they paid him any, nor did he care. He flew single-mindedly toward his target. He heard the movement of men-at-arms around him, in the side halls. He barely noted them on the balconies.

At the end of a column-lined hall stood the doors to the council room. As he marched down the hall, men moved in front of the doors. He only dimly noticed them. He saw only the doors.

His sword still hadn’t left its scabbard at his hip, but the magic was coursing through him at full fury. The soldiers closed rank before the doors. He didn’t slow, the black cape billowing open, his brow set in a glare, as he charged ahead.

They made their move to stop him. Richard marched on. He wanted them out of his way. The power came by instinct, without conscious effort. He felt the concussion. In his peripheral vision he saw blood hit the white marble.

Without missing a stride, he emerged from the ball of flame in a gaping hole twice the size the doorway had been. Huge chunks of stone hurtled through the air, trailing smoke. Debris rained down about him. One of the doors spiraled through the air in an arc; the other spun like a top as it skittered across the floor of the council chamber along with ragged pieces of armor and shattered weapons.

At the far end of the room, men behind a curved desk rose angrily to their feet. As he advanced relentlessly onward, Richard drew the sword. The unique sound of steel rang in the huge room.

“I am Supreme Councilor Thurstan!” the one in the center, at the tallest chair, said. “I demand to know the meaning of this intrusion!”

Richard was still coming. “Be there one of you who did not vote to sentence the Mother Confessor to death?”

“She was sentenced to death for treason! Legally, and unanimously, sentenced by this council! Guards! Remove this man!”

Men came running across the vast floor, but Richard had already closed on the dais. The councilors drew knives.

Richard leapt to the top of the desk with a scream of rage. The blade cleaved Thurstan in two, from ear to crotch. A swing to each side took off heads. Several of the men tried to stab him. They weren’t close to fast enough. The sword found every robed figure, including the ones who tried to run. It was over in seconds, before the guards had made half the distance.

Richard leapt back atop the desk. He stood in the grip of unbridled wrath, holding the sword in both hands. He waited for them to come. He wanted them to come.