Chapter 44

It was deep in the night when he left Denna’s quarters. The halls were empty except for flickering shadows. Richard’s footsteps echoed from the polished stone floors and walls as he walked in a mournful daze, watching his shadow rotate around himself as he passed torches, feeling comfort only at having his pack on his back once more, and to be leaving the People’s Palace. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he was going to go away from here.

The pain of an Agiel in the small of his back slammed him to a halt, and brought sweat instantly to his face as he tried to take a breath, but couldn’t. Fire seared through his hips and legs.

“Going somewhere?” came a ruthless whisper.

Constance.

His shaking hand struggled to reach his sword. She laughed as she watched him. A vision of giving her control of the magic, of the whole nightmare starting over again, flashed through his mind. His hand backed away from the sword and kept the anger of the magic in check. She came around to stand before him, her arm around him, holding the Agiel against his back, keeping his legs paralyzed. She was wearing her red leather.

“No? Not ready to try to use the magic on me yet? You will. You will try before long—you will try to save yourself with it,” She smiled. “Save yourself the extra pain, use it now. Maybe I will have mercy on you if you try it now.”

Richard thought about all the ways Denna had given him pain, and how she had taught him to tolerate it, so she could give him more. He brought to bear everything he had learned. He controlled the pain, blocking it enough to draw a deep breath.

He swept his left arm around Constance, forcing her body tight against himself. He grabbed the Agiel in his fist, Denna’s Agiel, hanging from his neck. Pain shot up his arm. He endured it, dismissed it. Constance gave a grunt as he lifted her off her feet, pulling her up his body. She tried to press her Agiel harder into his back, but she didn’t have the leverage, and he had her arm pinned, so she couldn’t move it.

When he had her lifted high enough, her contorted face in front of his, he pressed Denna’s Agiel to her chest. Her eyes widened. Her expression slackened. Richard remembered Denna holding her Agiel against Queen Milena in this manner. It had the same effect on Constance. She shook, easing the pressure against his back. Still, it was hurting him, as was the Agiel in his hand.

Richard gritted his teeth against the pain. “I’m not going to kill you with the sword. To do that, I would have to forgive you everything. I could never bring myself to forgive you for betraying a friend. I could forgive your deeds against me, but not those against your friend, Denna. That is the one thing I could never forgive.”

Constance gasped with the agony. “Please…”

“Promise made…” he sneered.

“No… please… don’t.”

Richard twisted the Agiel as he had seen Denna do to the Queen. Constance flinched, and went limp in his grip. Blood ran from her ears. He let her lifeless body slip to the ground.

“Promise kept.”

Richard stared a long time at the Agiel held tightly in his fist, before he realized it was causing pain, and released it at last to hang from its chain around his neck.

He looked down at the dead Mord-Sith as he caught his breath. Thank you, Denna, he thought, for teaching me to endure the pain. You have saved my life.

It took him the better part of an hour to find his way out of the labyrinth of halls, out into the frigid night, to the expanse of grounds. He kept a tight grip on the hilt of the sword as he went past two big guards at the open gate through the outer wall, but they only gave a polite nod of their heads, as if he were an invited guest departing after a royal dinner.

He stopped, gazing out at the starlit country before him. He had never been so happy to see stars. He turned about, looking at everything. The People’s Palace, surrounded by imposing sheer walls, sat atop an immense plateau that dropped off before him to a plain. The plateau stood hundreds of feet above the barren land, but there was a road cut into the cliffs, switching back and forth, descending to the flat land.

“Horse, sir?”

Richard spun around. One of the guards had spoken to him. “What?”

“I asked if you would like a horse brought up, sir. You look to be leaving. It’s a long walk.”

“What’s a long walk?”

The guard gave a nod at the drop. “The Azrith Plains. You’re looking to the west, across the Azrith Plains. It’s a long walk across. Would you like a horse?”

It unnerved him that Darken Rahl had so little concern for what he might do that he would let him have a horse. “Yes, I would like a horse.”

The guard blew a small whistle in a series of short and long bursts to anther man on the wall. Richard heard the short tune repeated into the distance.

The guard resumed his post. “Won’t be long, sir.”

“How far to the Rang’Shada Mountains?”

The man frowned a little. “Where in the Rang’Shada? They run a long way.”

“Northwest of Tamarang. As close as they come to Tamarang.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “Four, maybe five days.” He considered the other guard. “Wouldn’t you say…”

The other shrugged. “If he rides hard, day and night, and changes horses often, maybe five, but I doubt it could be done in four.”

Richard’s heart sank. Of course Rahl didn’t care if he had a horse. Where was he going to go? Michael and the Westland army were four or five days away, in the Rang’Shada. He couldn’t get to them, and back, before the week was out, before the first day of winter.

But Kahlan had to be closer. Rahl had sent that man with the black stripe in his hair, and two quads, to get her. What was she doing this close? He had told them not to come after him. His anger flashed at Chase for not following his instructions, for not keeping them all away. Then his anger wilted. If it were him, he wouldn’t have been able to sit back and not know what had happened to a friend. Maybe they weren’t in the mountains, but all on their way. But what good was an army going to do? Ten good men in a place like this could hold off an army for a month.

Two soldiers in full battle armor came riding through the gate, bringing a third horse with them.

“Would you like an escort, sir?” the guard asked. “They’re good men.”

“No.” Richard glared. “I will be going alone.”

The guard waved the soldiers off.

“You’ll be going west-southwest, then?” Richard didn’t answer, so he went on. “Tamarang. The place in the Rang’Shada you asked about. It’s to the west-southwest. Piece of advice, if I may, sir?”

“Go on,” Richard said cautiously.

“If you go that way, across the Azrith Plains, then near morning, you’ll come to a boulder field among sharp hills. There’ll be a split in the road in a deep canyon. Take to the left.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because to the right, there be a dragon. A red dragon. A red dragon of a bad temper. Master Rahl’s dragon.”

Richard mounted the horse and stared down at the guard. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll remember.”

He put heel to the horse and took to the steep road, down the side of the plateau, down the switchbacks. Beyond one, he saw a drawbridge being lowered as he approached. By the time he reached it, it was down and he never slowed, galloping the horse across the heavy wooden planks. He could see that the load was the only practical way up the cliffs of the plateau, and the yawning gap spanned by the bridge would prove an impasse to any advancing army. Even without the formidable force of defenders he knew was behind him, even without Darken Rahl’s magic, the simple inaccessibility of the People’s Palace was defense enough.

As he rode, Richard unbuckled the hated collar and flung it into the night. He vowed that he would never again wear a collar. Not for anyone. Not for any reason.