Faith of the Fallen

"I agree," Verna said.

Kahlan gestured to include a number of the group of men who had set up a defensive guard around her. "Spread out and find the officers. Tell them that the Mother Confessor and the Prelate are at the command tents. We'll wait here for reports."

"Tell any Sisters you see," Verna added. "And if you see Warren or Zedd, tell them, too, that we've returned."

The men raced off into the night to carry out their instructions.

"I don't like this," Cara muttered.

"I don't, either," Kahlan said as she stepped into her tent.

Cara stood guard, along with a small army of men, as Kahlan took off her fur mantle and slipped on her leather armor. It had saved her from taking wounds often enough that she was not shy about wearing it. All it would take was one man to slip up close and thrust a sword into her, and that might well be the end. If she got lucky, and they ran it through a leg, or even her belly, she had a chance of being healed by a Sister, but if it was in some other place-heart, head, some major artery so that the loss of blood was too fast-then even the gifted wouldn't be able to heal her.

The leather was extremely tough, and while not impervious to blades, spears, or arrows, it afforded a good degree of protection while allowing enough freedom of movement to enable her to fight. A blow with a blade had to be landed just right, or it would glance harmlessly off the leather. Many of the men wore chain mail, which afforded better protection, but it was too heavy for Kahlan to be practical for her to wear. In combat, speed and maneuverability were life.

Kahlan knew better than to risk her life needlessly. She was more valuable to their cause in her capacity as a leader than as a combatant.

Still, while she rarely went directly into combat, the fighting had often enough come to her.

A sergeant finally arrived to give her a report.

"Assassins" was all he said.

That one chilling word was enough. It was what she had figured, and explained the state of the camp.

"How many casualties?" Kahlan asked.

"I only know for sure that one attacked Captain Zimmer. He was eating at a campfire with his men. The captain managed to miss a killing blow, but took a nasty wound in the leg. He's lost a lot of blood. The surgeons are seeing to him right now."

"What about the assassin?" Verna asked.

The sergeant looked surprised at the question. "Commander Zimmer killed the assassin." He screwed up his face with the distaste of the rest of what he had to say. "The assassin was dressed in a D'Haran uniform. He walked through the camp without notice until he found a target-Captain Zimmer-and attacked."

Verna let out a worried breath. "A Sister might be able help the captain."

Kahlan dismissed him with a nod. The sergeant saluted with a fist to his heart before rushing off to his duties.

It was then that Kahlan spotted Zedd approaching. The front of his robes was wet and darkundoubtedly with blood. Tears ran down his face.

Gooseflesh tingled up Kahlan's arms and legs.

Verna gasped when Zedd suddenly saw her and for an instant faltered before rushing toward them. Verna clutched Kahlan's arm.

Zedd seized Verna's hand. «Hurry» was all he said.

It was all he needed to say; they all understood.

Verna let out a mournful cry as she was pulled along after the old wizard. Kahlan and Cara ran behind as Zedd led them on a winding charge through the confusion of shouting men, galloping horses, squads in formation dashing in every direction, and unit officers taking roll call.

The roll call was needed because the assassins were in D'Haran uniforms so they could sneak up close to their quarry. It was necessary to account for every man in order to single out those who didn't belong. It was tedious and difficult, but essential.

They rushed into the swirl of turmoil around the tents where wounded men were being treated. Men shouted orders as others brought in men crying out in pain, or men with their limp arms dragging the ground. Each tent could hold up to ten or twelve men.

Verna's composure was frayed with panic. Zedd stopped her, holding her by her arms. His voice was choked with his emotion.

"A man stabbed Holly. Warren was nearby and tried to protect the girl.

Verna, I swear to you on my dead wife's soul. . I did everything I could do. Dear spirits forgive me, but I must be the one to tell you. . he is beyond my power to help him. He asked for you and Kahlan."

Kahlan stood in a stupor, her heart in her throat. Zedd's hand on her back urged her to move quickly. She followed Verna, ducking into the tent.

Half a dozen dead men lay at the far end of the tent, covered with blankets. Here and there a bloody hand stuck out from under a cover. One man was missing a boot. Kahlan stared, unable to make her mind work, unable to understand how the soldier had lost a boot. It seemed so silly-dying and losing a boot. Tragedy and comedy together under a shroud.

Warren lay on his back on a pallet on the ground. Sister Philippa was on the far side of him, her tall frame bent over the youthful wizard, holding his hand. Sister Phoebe was on the near side, holding his other hand. Both women turned tearstained faces up to see Verna above them.

"Warren," Sister Philippa said, "it's Verna. She's here. And Kahlan, too."

The two Sisters quickly moved out of the way for Verna and Kahlan to take their places. They covered their mouths to hold in their cries as they fled the tent.

Warren was as white as the stacks of clean bandages lying nearby. His eyes were open wide as he stared up. . as if he could no longer see. His curly blond hair was matted in sweat. His robes were soaked in blood.

"Warren," Verna moaned. "Oh, Warren."

"Verna? Kahlan?" he asked in a breathy whisper.

"Yes, my love." Verna kissed his hand a dozen times.

Kahlan squeezed his other limp hand. "I'm here, too, Warren."

"I had to hold on. Till you both came back. To tell you both."

"Tell us what, Warren?" Verna asked through her tears.

"Kahlan. ." he whispered.

She leaned in. "I'm here, Warren. Don't try to talk, just-"

"Listen to me."

Kahlan pressed his hand to her cheek. "I'm listening, Warren."

"Richard is right. His vision. I had to tell you."

Kahlan didn't know what to say.

A smile came to his ashen face. "Verna. ."

"What is it, my love?"

"I love you. Always have."

Verna could hardly get her words past her choking tears. "Warren, don't die. Don't die. Please don't die."

"Give me a kiss," Warren whispered, "while I still live. And don't mourn what ends, but what a good life we've had. Kiss me, my love."

Verna bent over him and met his lips with hers, giving him a gentle, loving kiss as her tears dripped onto his face.

Unable to bear the scene, Kahlan staggered out of the tent, finding Zedd's protective arms waiting. She hid her weeping against his shoulder.

"What are we doing?" she cried. "What's it all for? What good is any of it? We're losing everything."

Zedd had no answer for her tears at the futility of it all.

The minutes dragged on. Kahlan forced herself to be strong, to be the Mother Confessor. She couldn't let the men see her giving up.

Silent men stood nearby, not wanting to look in the direction of the tent where Warren lay dying.

When General Meiffert materialized out of the darkness, the relief on Cara's face was evident. He rushed up close to Cara, but didn't touch her.

"I'm glad to see you safely returned," he said to Kahlan. "How is Warren?"

Kahlan couldn't speak.

Zedd shook his head. "I didn't think he would live this long. I think he held on so he could see his wife."