Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [47]
“Cat! Come here, I want you.” The cat came running in and rubbed himself against Zedd’s legs, swishing his tail up. Zedd bent down and scratched him behind the ears. “Go in and sleep on the young woman’s lap. Keep her warm.” The cat padded off to the bedroom as the old man stepped out into the cold night air.
The wind whipped Zedd’s robes as he walked the narrow path through the tall grass. The clouds were thin, illuminated by the moon, which gave enough light to see by, even though he didn’t need it; he had walked the same route thousands of times.
“Nothing is ever easy,” he muttered as he went.
Near a stand of trees he stopped, listening. Slowly, he turned about, peering into the shadows, watching the branches bend and sway in the breeze, testing the air with his nose. He searched for an alien movement.
A fly bit his neck. He swatted it angrily, picked the offender off his neck, and glared at it. “Blood fly. Bags. I thought as much,” he complained.
From the brush near by, something came toward him in a terrible rush. Wings and fur and teeth came charging. Hands on his hips. Zedd waited. Just before it was on him, he held up a hand, bringing the short-tailed gar to a lurching halt. It was half again as tall as he, full grown, and twice as fierce as a long-tailed gar. The beast growled and blinked, its great muscles flexing as it fought against the force that kept it from reaching out and grabbing the old man. It was furious that it had not yet killed him.
Zedd reached up and with a crooked finger beckoned it to lean closer. The gar, panting in rage, bent toward him. Zedd jammed his finger hard under its chin.
“What is your name?” he hissed. The beast grunted twice and made a sound from deep in its throat. Zedd gave a nod. “I will remember it. Tell me, do you wish to live, or to die?” The gar struggled to back away, but was unable to. “Good. Then you will do exactly as I say. Somewhere between here and D’Hara, a quad comes this way. Hunt them and kill them. When you have done so, go back to D’Hara, to where you came from. Do these things and I will let you live, but I will remember your name, and if you fail to kill the quad, or ever come back after your task is done, I will kill you and feed you to your flies. Do you agree to my terms?” The gar grunted an acknowledgment. “Good. Then be gone.” Zedd removed his finger from under the gar’s chin.
Scrambling to get away, the beast flapped its wings frantically, beating down the grass as it stumbled along. At last the gar was airborne. Zedd watched it as it circled, searching for the quad. As the hunt moved steadily east, the circles seemed to get smaller until the old man could no longer see the beast. Only then did he continue on to the top of the hill.
Standing next to his cloud rock, Zedd pointed down at it and began turning his bony finger in a circle as if stirring a stew. The massive rock grated against the ground as it tried to revolve with the movement of Zedd’s finger. The rock shuddered, trying to rotate its own weight. Popping and snapping, it fractured, sending hairline cracks shooting across its surface. Its trembling bulk struggled against the force being applied. The granular structure of the stone began to soften. Unable to maintain its state any longer, the texture of the rock liquefied enough to allow its mass to rotate with the movement of the finger above it. Gradually the speed of Zedd’s stirring increased until light erupted from the rotating liquid rock.
The light built in intensity with the speed of Zedd’s hand. As colors and sparkles of light spun, shadows and forms came into the center of the light and vanished as the fog of brightness increased. Light threatened to ignite the air about him. A dull roar, like the sound of wind rushing through a fissure, came forth. The smells of autumn changed to winter clarity, then spring’s new plowed ground, summer’s flowers, and back to autumn again. Clean, pure illumination chased the