Wizard's First Rule

Kahlan wished so much he had not come to her aid when he had; wished he had not killed that man. She didn't have the heart to tell him it was unnecessary. She could have handled it herself. After all, one man alone was hardly a mortal danger to her. That was why Rahl always sent four men after Confessors: one to be touched by her power, the other three to kill him and the Confessor. Sometimes only one was left, but that was enough after a Confessor had spent her power. But one alone? He had almost no chance. Even if he was big, she was faster. When he swung his sword, she would have simply jumped out of the way. Before he could have brought it up again, she would have touched him, and he would have been hers. That would have been the end of him.

Kahlan knew there was no way she could ever tell Richard that there had been no need for him to kill. What made it doubly bad was that he had killed for her, had thought he was saving her.

Kahlan knew another quad was probably already on its way. They were relentless. The man Richard had killed knew he was going to die, knew he didn't stand a chance, alone, against a Confessor, but he came anyway. They would not stop, did not know the meaning of it, never thought of anything but their objective.

And, they enjoyed what they did to Confessors.

Even though she tried not to, she couldn't help remembering Dennee. Whenever she thought of the quads, she couldn't help remembering what they had done to Dennee.

Before Kahlan had became a woman, her mother had been stricken with a terrible sickness, one no healer was able to turn back. She had died all too quickly of the awful wasting disease. Confessors were a close sisterhood; when trouble struck one, it struck all. Dennee's mother took in Kahlan and comforted her. The two girls, best friends, had been thrilled that they were to be sisters, as they called themselves from then on, and it helped ease the pain of losing her mother.

Dennee was a frail girl, as frail as her mother. She did not have the strength of power that Kahlan did, and over time, Kahlan became her protector, guardian, shielding her from situations that required more force than she could bring from within. After its use, Kahlan could recover the strength of her power in an hour or two, but for Dennee, it sometimes took several days.

On one fateful day, Kahlan had been away for a short time, taking a confession from a murderer who was to be hanged, a mission that was to have been Dennee's. Kahlan had gone in her sister's place because she wanted to spare Dennee the torment of the task. Dennee hated taking confessions, hated seeing the look in their eyes. Sometimes she would cry for days after. She never asked Kahlan to go in her stead, she wouldn't, but the look of relief on her face when Kahlan told her she would do it was words enough. Kahlan, too, disliked taking confessions, but she was stronger, wiser, more reflective. She understood, and accepted, that being a Confessor was her power; it was who she was, and so it didn't hurt her the way it did Dennee. Kahlan had always been able to place her head before her heart. And she would have done any dirty job in Dennee's place.

On the trail home, Kahlan heard soft whimpers from the brush at the side of the road, moans of mortal pain. To her horror, she discovered Dennee, thrown there, discarded.

"I was… coming to meet you… I wanted to walk back with you," Dennee had said as Kahlan cradled the girl's head in her lap. "A quad caught me. I'm sorry. I got one of them, Kahlan. I touched him. I got one of them. You would have been proud of me."

In shock, Kahlan held Dennee's head, comforted her, telling her it would be all right.

"Please, Kahlan… pull my dress down for me?" Her voice sounded as if it were coming from a faraway place. Wet and weak. "My arms don't work."

Past panic, Kahlan saw why. Dennee's arms had been brutally broken. They lay useless at her sides, bent in places where they shouldn't be bent. Blood trickled from one ear. Kahlan pulled what was left of the blood-soaked dress over her sister, covering her as best she could. Her head spun with the horror of what the men had done. The choking feeling in her throat wouldn't let words come out. She strained to hold back her screams, fearful of frightening her sister any more. She knew she had to be strong for her this one last time.

Dennee whispered Kahlan's name, beckoning her closer. "Darken Rahl did this to me… he wasn't here, but he did this to me."

"I know," Kahlan said with all the tenderness she could gather. "Lie still, it will be all right. I will take you home." She knew it was a lie, knew Dennee would not be all right.

"Please, Kahlan," she whispered, "kill him. Stop this madness. I wish I were strong enough. Kill him for me."