Wizard's First Rule tsot-1 Read online

  Richard didn’t hear them talking. Already he was looking to the east, to the massive wall of mountains, trying to think of solutions. Cross the boundary, he thought, cross the boundary without going through it. How? What if it was impossible? What if there was no way across the boundary? Would they be stuck here while Darken Rahl searched for the boxes? Were they to die without a chance? He wished there were more time and fewer limitations. Richard reprimanded himself for wasting time wishing.

  If only he knew it could be done, then he could find out how. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him, insisting that it could be done, insisting he knew the truth of it. There was a way, there had to be. If he only knew that it was possible.

  All around them, the night was coming alive with sounds. Frogs called from the ponds and streams, night birds from the trees, and insects from the grass. From the distant hills came the cry of wolves, mournful and plaintive, against the dark wall of mountains. Somehow they had to cross those mountains, cross the unknown.

  The mountains were like the boundary, he thought. You couldn’t go through them, but you could cross them. You had only to find a pass. A pass. Was it possible? Could there be one?

  Then it struck him like a bolt of lightning.

  The book.

  Richard spun on his heels, excited. To his surprise Zedd and Kahlan were both standing quietly, watching him, as if waiting for a pronouncement.

  “Zedd, have you ever helped anyone other than yourself go through the boundary?”

  “Like who?”

  “Anyone! Yes or no!”

  “No. No one.”

  “Can anyone other than a wizard send a person through the boundary?”

  Zedd shook his head emphatically. “None but a wizard. And Darken Rahl, of course.”

  Richard frowned at him. “Our lives depend on this, Zedd. Swear. You have never, ever, sent anyone other than yourself through the boundary. True?”

  “True as a boiling bog full of toasted toads. Why? What have you thought of? Do you have a way?”

  Richard ignored the question, too deep in his own stream of thought to answer, and instead turned back to the mountains. It was true—there was a pass across the boundary! His father had found it, and used it! That was the only way the Book of Counted Shadows could have been in Westland. He couldn’t have brought it with him when he moved here, before the boundary, and he couldn’t have found it in Westland—the book had magic. The boundary wouldn’t have worked if magic had been here then. Magic could only be brought into Westland after the boundary was up.

  His father had found a pass, gone into the Midlands, and brought the book back. Richard was shocked and excited at the same time. His father had done it! He had gone across the boundary. Richard was elated. Now he knew there was a way across—it could be done. He still had to find the pass, but that didn’t matter for now. There was a pass—that was what mattered.

  Richard turned back to the other two. “We will go have supper.”

  “I put a stew on, just before you awoke, and there is fresh bread,” Kahlan offered.

  “Bags!” Zedd threw his scarecrow arms up into the air. “It’s about time someone remembered supper!”

  Richard gave a little smile in the dark. “After we’ve eaten, we’ll make preparations, decide what we need to take, what we can carry, get our provisions together and packed tonight. We’ll need to get a good night’s sleep. We leave at first light.” He turned and headed for the house. The faint glow of the fire coming from the windows offered warmth and light.

  Zedd held up an arm. “Where are we headed, my boy?”

  “The Midlands,” Richard called back over his shoulder.

  Zedd was halfway through his second bowl of stew before he could bring himself to stop eating long enough to talk. “So, what have you figured out? Is there truly a way to cross the boundary?”

  “There is.”

  “Are you sure? How can it be? How can we cross without going through?”

  Richard smiled as he stirred his stew. “You don’t have to get wet to cross a river.” The lamp light flickered on their faces as Kahlan and Zedd frowned in puzzlement. Kahlan turned and threw a small piece of meat to the cat, who was sitting on his haunches, waiting for any handout. Zedd ate another slab of bread before he was able to ask his next question.

  “And how do you know there is a way across?”

  “There is. That’s all that matters.”

  Zedd had an innocent look on his face. “Richard.” He ate two more spoonfuls of stew. “We are your friends. There are no secrets among us. You can tell us.”

  Richard looked from one big pair of eyes to the other, and laughed out loud. “I’ve had strangers tell me more of themselves.”

  Zedd and Kahlan both backed away a little at the rebuff and looked at each other, but neither dared repeat the question.

  They talked on as they ate, of what they had at hand to take with them, how much they could do to prepare in such a short time, and what their priorities should be. They listed everything they could think of, each offering items to be taken. There was much to do and little time. Richard asked Kahlan if she traveled the Midlands often. She said that was almost all she ever did.

  “And you wear that dress when you travel.”

  “I do.” She hesitated. “People recognize me by it. I don’t stay in the woods. Wherever I go, I am always provided with food and a place to stay, and anything else I might require.”

  Richard wondered why. He didn’t press, but he knew the dress she wore was more than something she bought in a shop. “Well, with the three of us being hunted, I don’t think we want people to recognize you. I think we need to stay away from people as much as possible, keep to the woods when we can.” She and Zedd both nodded their agreement. “We will need to find you some traveling clothes, forest garb, but there is nothing here that will fit you. We’ll have to find something on the way. I have a hooded cloak here. It will keep you warm for now.”

  “Good,” she said smiling, “I’m tired of being cold, and I can tell you, a dress is not right for the woods.”

  Kahlan finished before the men and put her half-full bowl on the floor for the cat. The cat seemed to have the same appetite as Zedd and was eating out of the bowl before she could set it down.

  They discussed each item they would take, and planned how they would do without others. There was no telling how long they would be gone, Westland was a big place, and the Midlands bigger. Richard wished they could go to his house, since he often went on long treks and had the right kinds of provisions, but it was too big a risk. He would rather find the things they needed elsewhere, or go without, than go back to what waited there. He didn’t know yet where they were going to cross the boundary, but he wasn’t worried. He still had until morning to think about it. He was just relieved to know there was a way.

  The cat’s head came up. He crossed half the distance to the door and stopped, back and fur rising. Everyone noticed and fell silent. There was firelight in the front window, but it wasn’t reflecting from the hearth. It was coming from outside.

  “I smell burning pitch,” Kahlan said.

  In an instant the three were on their feet. Richard grabbed the sword from the back of his chair and had it on almost before he was to his feet. He went to look out the window, but Zedd didn’t waste the time and went through the door in a rush with Kahlan in tow. Richard got only a glimpse of torches before he hurried out after the other two.

  Spread out in the long grass in front of the house was a mob of about fifty men, some carrying torches, but most carrying crude weapons, axes, pitchforks, scythes, or axe handles. They were dressed in their work clothes. Richard recognized many of the faces, good men, honest, hardworking family men. They didn’t look like good men this night, though. They looked to be in a foul mood, their faces grim and angry. Zedd stood in the center of the porch, hands on his skinny hips, smiling out at them, the red light from the torches making his white hair pink.r />
  “What’s this then, boys?” Zedd asked.

  They mumbled among themselves, and several men in front took a step or two forward. Richard knew the one, John, who spoke for the rest.

  “There’s trouble about. Trouble caused by magic! And you’re at the bottom of it, old man! You’re a witch!”

  “A witch?” Zedd asked in bewilderment. “A witch?”

  “That’s what I said, a witch!” John’s dark eyes shifted to Richard and Kahlan. “This doesn’t concern you two. Our business is with the old man. Leave now or you’ll get the same as him.” Richard couldn’t believe the men he knew were saying this.

  Kahlan came forward, stepping in front of Zedd, the folds of her dress swirling around her legs when she stopped. She held her fists at her sides. “Leave now,” she warned menacingly, “before you come to regret what you have chosen to do.”

  The mob of men looked around at each other, some smirking, some making crude comments under their breath, some laughing. Kahlan stood her ground and stared them down. The laughter died out.

  “So,” John said with a sneer, “two witches to take care of.” The men cheered and hollered, brandishing their weapons. John’s round, heavyset face smiled defiantly.

  Richard stepped slowly and deliberately in front of Kahlan, putting a hand behind as he did so, forcing her and Zedd to step back. He kept his voice calm, friendly. “John. How’s Sara? I haven’t seen you two for a while.” John didn’t answer. Richard surveyed the other faces. “I know many of you, know you to be good men. This isn’t something you want to do.” He looked back at John. “Take your men and go home to your families. Please, John?”

  John pointed an axe handle at Zedd. “That old man’s a witch! We’re going to put an end to him.” He pointed at Kahlan. “And her! Unless you want the same, Richard, be on your way!” The mob yelled their agreement. The torches sizzled and popped as they burned, and the air smelled of burning pitch and sweat. When they realized that Richard wasn’t leaving, the rabble started to push forward.

  The sword was free in a blink. The men took a step back as the metallic ringing filled the night air. John stood in red-faced anger. The ringing died out, and the only sound was from the burning torches. Grumbling broke out about Richard being in with the witches.

  John charged, swinging the axe handle at Richard as he came. The sword flashed through the air, splintering John’s weapon with a loud crack. Only two ragged inches of the axe handle were left above his fist. The severed piece of wood spun off into the darkness, landing somewhere with a hollow thud.

  John stood frozen, one foot on the ground, one on the porch, and the point of the Sword of Truth pressed to the underside of his ample chin. The polished blade glinted in the torchlight. Richard, his muscles hard with restrained need, slowly bent forward and with the sword point tilted John’s face up to his own. In a voice barely more than a whisper, but so deadly cold it make John stop breathing, he said, “Another step, John, and your head follows.” John didn’t move, didn’t breathe. “Back away,” Richard hissed.

  The man did as he was ordered, but when back with his fellows, regained his nerve. “You can’t stop us, Richard, we’re here to save our families.”

  “From what!” Richard yelled. He pointed the sword at one of the other men. “Frank! When your wife was sick, wasn’t it Zedd who brought her a potion that made her well?” He pointed the sword to another. “And Bill, didn’t you come and ask Zedd about the rains, when they would come so you fellows could harvest your crops?” He whipped the sword’s point back to his attacker. “And John, when your little girl was lost in the woods, was it not Zedd who read the clouds all night and then went out himself and found her and brought her back, safe, to you and Sara?” John and a few others cast their eyes downward. Richard angrily drove the sword back into its scabbard. “Zedd has helped most of the men here. He has helped heal your fevers, find lost loved ones, and freely shared anything he has with you.”

  From the back someone yelled out, “Only a witch could do all those things!”

  “He has done nothing to harm a single one of you!” Richard paced back and forth across the porch, facing the men down. “He has never harmed one of you! He’s helped most of you! Why would you want to harm a friend!”

  There was some confused grumbling for a few minutes, before they regained their conviction. “Most of the things he’s done are magic!” John shouted. “A witch’s magic! None of our families are safe with him around!”

  Before Richard could answer, Zedd was pulling him back by his arm. He turned to the old man’s smiling face. Zedd didn’t seem to be bothered in the least. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

  “Very impressive,” he whispered, “both of you, very impressive. If you would, though, let me handle it from here?” He lifted an eyebrow, then turned to the men. “Gentlemen, good evening. How nice to see you all.” Some of the men gave a greeting in return. A few lifted their hats self-consciously. “If you would be so kind, before you dispatch me, let me talk a moment with my two friends here?” There were nods all around. Zedd pulled Kahlan and Richard back a little toward the house, away from the crowd, and bent close.

  “A lesson in power, my friends.” He put a sticklike finger on Kahlan’s nose. “Too little.” Next he put the finger on Richard’s nose. “Too much.” He put the finger to his own nose, and with a twinkle in his eyes said, “Just right.” He cupped Kahlan’s chin in his hand. “If I were to let you do this, dear one, there would be graves to be dug this night. Our three would be among them. But very noble nonetheless. Thank you for your concern for me.” He put his hand on Richard’s shoulder. “If I were to let you do this, there would be a great many graves to be dug, and the three of us would be the only ones left to do the digging. I am too old to dig that many holes in the ground, and we have more important things to do. But you were very noble too—you handled yourself honorably.” He patted Richard’s shoulder and then put a finger under each of their chins.

  “Now, I want you two to let me handle this matter. The problem is not what you are telling these men. The problem is they aren’t listening. You have to get their attention before they will hear you.” He lifted an eyebrow and looked to each in turn. “Watch and learn what you can. Listen to my words, but they will have no effect on you.” He removed his finger and shuffled past them, smiling and waving to the men.

  “Gentlemen. Oh, John, how is your little girl?”

  “She’s fine,” he grumbled, “but one of my cows had a two headed calf.”

  “Really? And how do you think that happened?”

  “I think it happened because you’re a witch!”

  “There, you said it again.” Zedd shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand. Do you gentlemen want to do away with me because you think I have magic, or is it simply your intention to demean me by calling me a woman?”

  There was some confusion. “We don’t know what you’re talking about,” someone said.

  “Well, it’s simple. Girls are witches. Boys are called warlocks. Do you see my point? If you call me a witch, you seem to be calling me a girl. If what you mean is that you think me a warlock, well, that is an altogether different insult. So, which is it? Girl or warlock?”

  There was more confused discussion, then John spoke up, angry. “We mean to say you’re a warlock, and we intend to have your hide for it!”

  “My, my, my,” Zedd said, tapping his lower lip thoughtfully with the tip of his finger. “Why, I had no idea you men were so brave. So very brave indeed.”

  “How’s that?” John asked.

  Zedd shrugged. “Well, what is it you think a warlock capable of?”

  There was more talk among themselves. They started shouting out suggestions. He could make two-headed cows, make the rains come, find people who were lost, make children be stillborn, make strong men weak and make their women leave them. Somehow this didn’t seem to be sufficient, so more ideas were shouted out. Make water bur
n, turn people into cripples, change a man into a toad, kill with a look, call upon demons, and in general, everything else.

  Zedd waited until they were done, and then held his arms out to them. “There you have it. Just as I said, you men are the bravest fellows I have ever seen! To think, armed only with pitchforks and axe handles, you come to do battle with a warlock who has these kinds of powers. My, my, how brave.” His voice trailed off. Zedd shook his head in wonderment. Worry started to break out in the crowd.

  Zedd went on, in a drawn-out, monotonous tone, suggesting the things a warlock could do, describing in great detail a variety of deeds from the frivolous to the terrifying. The men stood, transfixed, listening in rapt attention. He went on and on for a good half hour. Richard and Kahlan listened, shifting their weight as they became bored and tired. The eyes of the mob were wide, unblinking. They stood like statues, the dancing flames from their torches the only motion among the men.

  The mood had changed. There was no longer anger. Now there was fear. The wizard’s voice changed, too—no longer kind and gentle, or even dull, it was harsh and threatening.

  “And so, men, what do you think it is we should do now?”

  “We think you should let us go home, unharmed,” came the weak reply. The others nodded with agreement.

  The wizard waggled a long finger in the air in front of them. “No, I don’t think so. You see, you men came here to kill me. My life is the most precious thing I have, and you intended to take it from me. I can’t let that go unpunished.” Quaking and fear swept through the crowd. Zedd stepped to the edge of the porch. The men took a step back. “As punishment for trying to take my life, I take from you, not your life, but that which is most precious, most dear, most valuable!” With a flourish, he swept his hand dramatically over their heads. They gasped. “There. It is done,” he declared. Richard and Kahlan, who had been leaning against the house, stood up straight.

  For a moment no one moved—then a fellow in the midst of the mob thrust his hand into his pocket and felt around. “My gold. It’s gone.”