Wizard's First Rule

The clear metallic ringing filled the dim morning air as the Seeker drew his sword. Anger flooded through him. Without a second thought, Richard dashed down the trail, following the tracks. The pressure of the wall buffeted him as he jogged through the cool mist. When the tracks turned, switching back and forth; he didn't slow, but set his feet to one side or the other to throw his weight the other way down the path.

Keeping a steady, sustainable pace, he was able to traverse the span of the Narrows before midmorning. Twice, he had come across a shadow floating in place on the path. They didn't move or seem to be aware of him. Richard charged through, sword first. Even without faces, they had seemed surprised as they howled apart.

Without slowing he went through the split rock, kicking a gripper out of the way. On the other side he stopped to catch his breath. He was overwhelmed with relief that her footprints went all the way. Now, back on the forest trail, her tracks would be harder to see, but it didn't matter. He knew where she was going, and he knew she was safely through the Narrows. He felt like crying with joy in the knowledge that Kahlan was alive.

He knew he was getting closer to her; the mist hadn't yet had time to soften the sharp edges of her footprints, the way it had when he had first found them. When it had gotten light, she must have followed their tracks instead of using the walls to show the way, or else he would have caught her long before now. Good girl, he thought, using your head. He would make a woods woman of her yet.

Richard trotted off down the trail, keeping the sword-and his anger-out. He didn't waste time to stop and look for signs of her trail, but whenever there was a soft or muddy patch, he looked down, checking, as he slowed a little. After running over an area of mossy ground, he came to a small bare patch with footprints. He gave a cursory glance as he went by. Something he saw made him stop so suddenly that he fell. On his hands and knees, he peered down at the prints. His eyes widened.

Overlapping part of her footprint was a man's boot print, nearly three times as large as hers. He knew without a doubt who it belonged to: the last man of the quad.

Rage brought him to his feet scrambling into a dead run. Branches and rock flashed by in a blur. His only concern was to stay on the trail and avoid accidentally running into the boundary, not out of fear for himself, but because he knew he couldn't help Kahlan if he got himself killed. His lungs burned for air as his chest heaved with exertion. The anger of the magic made him ignore his exhaustion, his lack of sleep.

Clambering to the top of a small jut of rock, he saw her at the bottom of the other side. For an instant, he froze. Kahlan stood on the left, feet apart, in a half crouch, a rock wall at her back. The last man of the quad stood in front of her, to Richard's right. Panic slashed through his anger. The man's leather uniform glistened in the wet. The hood of his chain-mail shirt covered his head of blond hair. His sword rose in his massive fists, and muscles stood out in knots along his arms. He howled a battle cry.

He was going to kill her.

Wrath exploded through Richard's mind. He screamed "No!" in a murderous rage as he leapt off the rock. With both hands he brought the Sword of Truth up while still in midair. When he hit the ground he recoiled, swinging it around from behind, in an arc. The sword whistled with its speed. The man had turned as Richard hit the ground. Seeing Richard's sword coming, he brought his own up defensively with lightning speed, the tendons in his wrists and hands making a popping sound as he did so.

Richard watched as if in a dream as his sword came around.

Every ounce of his strength went into trying to make the sword go faster, go truer. Be deadlier. The magic raged with his need. Richard looked from the man's sword, hard into the steel blue eyes. The Seeker's sword followed the track of his eyes. He heard himself still screaming. The man held his sword straight up, to deflect the blow.

Everything else around the man dissolved in Richard's vision. His anger, the magic, was unleashed like never before. No power on earth could deny him the man's blood. Richard was beyond all reason. Beyond all other need. Beyond all other cause for living. He was death, brought to life

Richard's entire life force focused lethal hatred into the drive of his sword.