Without looking to see what else was happening, Richard pushed his arm under her waist and lifted her in a single motion, scooping her off the ground. He held her tight against himself and held the sword toward the wall as he retreated from the boundary. Backing away steadily, he watched for any movement, any aggression. They left the green light.

He kept going until they were well clear, beyond the horses. When he stopped at last and released her, Kahlan turned and threw her arms around him, shaking. He had to struggle to restrain the rage that urged him to go back in and attack. He knew he would have to put the sword away to quell the anger, the need, but he didn’t dare to.

“The others, where are they?” she asked in a panic. “We have to find them.”

Kahlan pushed away from him and started to run back. Richard snatched her by the wrist, almost yanking her from her feet.

“Stay here!” he yelled far more angrily than required, pushing her to the ground.

Richard found Zedd in a heap, unconscious. As he bent to the old man, something swept out in a rush over his head. His anger erupted. He spun with the sword, the blade sweeping through the dark form. The stump reeled back into the boundary with a shrill screeching, the severed part vaporizing in midair. Richard picked up Zedd with one arm, threw him over his shoulder like a sack of grain, and carried him to Kahlan, where he laid him gently on the ground. She held the wizard’s head in her lap, inspecting for wounds. Richard ducked low as he ran back, but the expected attack didn’t come. He wished it would—he longed for the fight, hungered to strike. He found Chase jammed partway under a log. Richard seized the mail and pulled him over. Blood oozed from a gash on the side of Chase’s head. Debris was stuck to the wound.

Richard’s mind raced, trying to think what to do. He couldn’t lift Chase with one arm, and he didn’t dare to put the sword away. He did know he didn’t want Kahlan to come help, he wanted her to stay safely away. Getting a good grip on the warden’s leather tunic, Richard started dragging him. The slick bog weed eased the effort somewhat, but it was still difficult, because he had to go around several fallen trees. Surprisingly, nothing attacked. Maybe he had hurt it, or killed it. He wondered if it was possible to kill something already dead. The sword had magic. Richard wasn’t sure what it was capable of—he wasn’t even sure if the things in the boundary were dead. He finally reached Kahlan and Zedd, and dragged Chase close. The wizard was still unconscious.

Kahlan’s face was white with worry. “What are we going to do?”

Richard scanned around. “We can’t stay here, and we can’t leave them. Let’s put them over the horses and get out of here. We’ll look to their wounds as soon as we’re a safe distance away.”

The clouds were thicker than before, and mist covered everything with a wet sheen. As he checked in every direction, Richard put the sword away and easily lifted Zedd over his horse. Chase was more difficult. He was big, and all his weapons were heavy. Blood throbbed from the wound on the side of his forehead, soaking his hair, and hanging him over the side of the horse made it bleed more. Richard decided he couldn’t leave it untended. He quickly retrieved an aum leaf and a strip of cloth from a pack. He crumpled the leaf to make it seep its healing fluid, pressed it against the wound, and had Kahlan wrap the cloth around Chase’s head. The cloth soaked through almost immediately, but he knew the aum leaf would stop the bleeding in a short time.

Richard helped Kahlan up onto her horse. He could tell that her legs hurt more than she would admit. He gave her the reins of Zedd’s horse, mounted up, took Chase’s horse, and then carefully got his bearings. He knew they would have a hard time finding the trail—the mist was getting heavy, visibility limited. There seemed to be ghosts watching from the shadows in every direction. He didn’t know if he should lead or follow Kahlan, didn’t know how best to protect her, so he rode beside her. Zedd and Chase weren’t tied down and could easily slip off the horses, so they had to take it slow. The dead spruce looked the same in every direction, and they couldn’t go in a straight line because they had to cut back and forth around fallen trees. Richard spat out mosquitoes that kept flying into his mouth.

The sky was the same dark steel gray everywhere—there was no chance to tell where the sun was, to get oriented. After a time, Richard wasn’t at all sure they were going in the right direction—it seemed they should have reached the trail already. He took fixes from landmark trees, and when they reached each one he would pick a new one farther ahead, hoping they were traveling in a straight line. To do it properly he knew he had to be able to line up at least three trees to make sure the line of travel was straight, but he couldn’t see that far in the mist. He couldn’t be sure he wasn’t leading them in circles. Even if he was going in a straight line, he wasn’t sure the direction was toward the trail.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Kahlan asked. “It all looks the same.”

“No. But at least we haven’t run into the boundary.”

“Do you think we should stop and tend to them?”

“We don’t dare. For all I know we could be ten feet from the underworld.”

Kahlan looked around, worried. Richard gave thought to having her wait with the other two while he went ahead and scouted for the trail, but dismissed the idea, as he was afraid he might not be able to find her again. They had to stay together. He started to wonder what they would do if they couldn’t find their way out before dark. How would they protect themselves against the heart hounds? If there were enough of them, even the sword couldn’t hold them all off at once. Chase had said they had to get to the swamp before nightfall. He hadn’t said why, or how the swamp could protect them. The brown bog weed was an endless sea all around, with hulks of trees aground in it everywhere.

An oak appeared off to their left, then some more, some with leaves shimmering dark green and wet in the mist. This was not the way they had come in. Richard turned them to the right a little, following the edge of the dead bog, hoping it would lead them back to the trail.

Shadows from the brush among the oaks watched them. He told himself it was his imagination that made the shadows seem to have eyes. There was no wind, no movement, no sound. He was angry with himself for being lost, despite how easily it could happen in this place. He was a guide—getting lost was unforgivable.

Richard breathed out in relief when he saw the trail at last. They quickly dismounted and checked their two charges. There was no change in Zedd, but at least Chase’s wound had stopped bleeding. Richard had no idea what to do for them. He didn’t know if they had been knocked unconscious, or if their condition was caused by some sort of magic from the boundary. Kahlan didn’t know either.

“What do you think we should do?” she asked him.

Richard tried not to look as worried as he really was. “Chase said we had to get to the swamp or the hounds would get us. It won’t do them any good to be laid out here and tended to while we wait for them to wake, only to have the hounds get us all. As I see it, we have only two choices: leave them here or take them with us. There is no way I’m leaving them. Let’s tie them down on the horses so they don’t fall off, and get to the swamp.”

Kahlan agreed. They worked quickly to lash their friends to the horses. Richard changed Chase’s bandage, and cleaned up the wound a little. The mist was changing to a light rain. He fished around in the packs, finding the blankets, and removed the oilcloth they were wrapped in. They put a blanket over each friend, then covered them with the oilcloth to keep them dry, crisscrossing rope over it all to hold it in place.