Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [141]
The bringer of death stood victorious over the object of his hate and rage, soaked in blood and the glory of joy such as he had never imagined. His chest heaved in rapture. Bringing the sword to the front again, he checked for any other threat. There was none.
And then the world imploded upon him.
Everything about jolted back into his sight. Richard saw a wide-eyed look of shock on Kahlan’s face before the pain took him to his knees, ripping through him, doubling him over.
The Sword of Truth dropped from his hands.
Sudden realization of what he had done slashed through him. He had killed a man. Worse, he had killed a man he had wanted to kill. It didn’t matter that he was protecting another life; he had wanted to kill. Had reveled in it. He would have allowed nothing to deny him the killing.
The vision of his sword exploding through the man’s head flashed over and over in his mind. He couldn’t make it stop.
In searing pain like none he had ever known, he clutched his arms across his abdomen. His mouth was open, but no scream came forth. He tried to let himself lose consciousness to stop the pain, but could not. Nothing else existed but the pain, just as nothing else had existed, in his desire to kill, but the man.
The pain whited his vision out. He was blind. Fire burned through every muscle, bone, and organ of his body, consuming him, taking his breath from his lungs, choking him in convulsing agony. He fell to his side on the ground, his knees pulled up to his chest, the screams coming at last in pain now as he had screamed in rage before. Richard felt the life being drawn from him. Through the anguish and hurt, he knew that if this went on he wasn’t going to be able to retain his sanity, or worse, his life. The power of the magic was crushing him. He could never have imagined that this level of pain existed; now he couldn’t imagine it ever leaving. He felt it stripping his sanity from him. In his mind, he begged for death. If something didn’t change, and quick, he would have it, one way or another.
In the fog of agony, a realization came to him; he recognized the pain. It was the same as the anger. It coursed through him the same way as the anger from the sword. He knew that feeling well enough; it was the magic. Once he recognized it as the magic, he urgently tried to take control of it, the way he had learned to control the anger. This time he knew he must win control, or die. He reasoned with himself, came to comprehend the need of what he had done, horrible as it was. The man had sentenced himself to death with his own intent to kill.
At last, he was able to put away the pain, as he had learned to put away the anger. Relief washed over him. He had won both battles. The pain lifted, and was gone.
Lying on his back, panting, he felt the world come rushing back. Kahlan was kneeling beside him, wiping a cool, damp cloth over his face. Wiping off the blood. Her brow was wrinkled; tears ran down her cheeks. Splatters of the man’s blood lay in long streaks across her face.
Richard rose to his knees and took the cloth from her hand, to wipe her face, as if to wipe from her mind the sight of what he had done. Before he could, she threw her arms around him, embracing him tighter than he would have thought her capable of. He hugged her back just as tight while her fingers went up the back of his neck, into his hair, holding his head to her as she cried. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to have her back. He didn’t want to let her go, ever.
“I’m so very sorry, Richard,” she sobbed.
“For what?”
“That you had to kill a man on my account.”
He rocked her gently, stroking her hair. “It’s all right.”
She shook her head against his neck. “I knew how much the magic would hurt you. That’s why I didn’t want