Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [174]
Gritting her teeth with an effort that sent searing pain through the wound in her right arm, she finally raked the stone out of Siddin’s hand. Because of the blood and mud, it shot from her fingers like a melon seed, plopping in the mud by her knee. Almost instantly her hand was over it, snatching it back up in a scoopful of mud. She jammed it in the pouch and yanked the drawstring closed. Gasping, she looked up.
The shadows stopped. She could hear Richard’s heavy breathing as he continued slashing at them. Slowly, at first, the shadows began moving back, as if confused, lost, searching. Then they dissolved back into the air, retreating to the underworld whence they had come. In a moment, they were gone. Except for Toffalar’s body, the three of them were in an empty expanse of mud.
Kahlan, rain running off her face, took Siddin into her arms, hugging him tight against her as he began crying. In exhaustion, Richard closed his eyes and collapsed to his knees, sitting back on his heels. His head hung down as he panted.
“Kahlan,” Siddin whimpered, “they were calling my name.”
“I know,” she whispered in his ear, kissing it, “it’s all right now. You were very brave. Brave as any hunter.”
He hugged his arms around her neck as she comforted him. She felt weak, shaky. They had almost lost their lives, to save a single one. Something she had told him the Seeker must not do, yet they had done it without a second thought. How could they not have tried? Having Siddin’s arms around her made it all worth it. Richard was still holding the sword in both hands; its tip sunk in the mud. She reached over and put a hand on his shoulder.
At the touch of her hand, his head instantly snapped up and the sword whipped around toward her, stopping in front of her face. Kahlan jumped with surprise. Fury lit Richard’s wide eyes.
“Richard,” she said, startled, “it’s just me. It’s over. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
He let his muscles go limp, let himself fall over onto his side in the mud.
“Sorry,” he managed, still trying to catch his breath. “When your hand touched me… I guess I thought it was a shadow.”
Legs were suddenly all about them. She peered up. The Bird Man was there, as were Savidlin and Weselan. Weselan was sobbing loudly. Kahlan stood and handed her her son. Weselan passed the boy to her husband and threw her arms around Kahlan, kissing her face all over.
“Thank you, Mother Confessor, thank you for saving my boy,” she bawled. “Thank you, Kahlan, thank you.”
“I know, I know.” Kahlan hugged her back. “It’s all right now.”
Weselan turned tearfully back to take Siddin in her arms. Kahlan saw Toffalar lying close by, dead. She flopped down in the mud, exhausted, and pulled her knees up with her arms around them.
She put her face against her knees and, losing control, started crying. Not because she had killed Toffalar, but because she had hesitated. It had almost cost her her life; almost cost Richard and Siddin—everyone—their lives. She had almost given victory to Rahl because she hadn’t wanted Richard to see what she was going to do, and had hesitated. It was the stupidest thing she had ever done, other than not telling Richard she was a Confessor. Tears of frustration poured out as she cried in choking sobs.
A hand reached under her good arm, pulling her up. It was the Bird Man. She bit her quivering lip, forcing herself to stop crying. She could not let these people see her showing weakness. She was a Confessor.
“Well done, Mother Confessor,” he said as he took a strip of cloth from one of his men and started wrapping it around her wounded arm.
Kahlan held her head up. “Thank you, honored elder.”
“This will need to be stitched together. I will have the gentlest healer among us do the work.”
She stood numbly as he tightened the bandage, sending flames of pain through the deep cut. He looked down at Richard, who seemed content to lie there on his back in the mud, as if it were the most comfortable bed in the world.
The Bird Man lifted an eyebrow to her, and