Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [71]
Halfway there the gar kicked him so hard he saw things moving past but couldn’t understand what they were. All he knew for sure was that every breath caused intense pain in his left side. He didn’t know where the trail was or where he was in relation to it. Blood flies were bumping into his face. He couldn’t get his bearings. But he did know where the Sword of Truth was.
He dove for it.
For an instant his fingers touched it. For an instant he thought he saw Zedd. Then the gar had him. It picked him up by his right arm and wrapped its repulsive, warm wings about him, hugging him close, his feet dangling in midair. He cried out from the sharp pain in his left ribs. Glowing green eyes burned into his, and the giant mouth snapped, showing him his fate. The immense maw split open for him, its fetid breath on his face, its black throat waiting. Wet fangs glistened in the moonlight.
With all his strength, Richard kicked his boot into the stump of the gar’s arm. It threw its head back, howled in pain, and dropped him.
Zedd emerged at the edge of the trees a dozen yards behind the gar. Richard, on his knees, grabbed the sword. Zedd threw his hands out, fingers extended. Fire, wizard’s fire, shot from his fingers and came shrieking through the air. The fire grew and tumbled, illuminating everything it passed, becoming a blue and yellow ball of liquid flame that wailed and expanded as it came, a thing alive. It hit the gar’s back with a thud, silhouetting the giant beast against the light. Within the space of a breath the blue-and-yellow flames washed over the gar, enveloping it, surging through it. Blood flies sparked into nothingness. Fire sizzled and snapped everywhere on the creature, consuming it. The gar disappeared into the blue heat and was gone. The fire swirled a moment and then it, too, was gone. The smell of burnt fur, and a hazy smoke, hung in the air. The night was suddenly quiet.
Richard collapsed, exhausted and in pain. The gashes on his back had dirt and gravel ground into them, and the pain in his left side seared into him with every breath. He wanted only to lie there, nothing more. The sword was still in his hand. He let the power of it wash through him, sustain him. He allowed the anger of it to let him ignore the pain.
The cat licked Richard’s face with his rough tongue and nuzzled the top of his head against Richard’s cheek. “Thank you, Cat,” he managed. Zedd and Kahlan appeared over him. Both bent down to take his arms and help lift him up.
“No! You’ll hurt me if you do that. Let me get up by myself.”
“What’s wrong?” Zedd asked.
“The gar kicked me in the left side. It hurts.”
“Let me look.” The old man bent over and gently felt Richard’s ribs. Richard winced in pain. “Well, I don’t see any bones sticking out. Can’t be that bad.”
Richard tried not to laugh, as he knew it would hurt. He was right. “Zedd, that was no trick. This time it was magic.”
“This time it was magic,” the wizard confirmed. “But Darken Rahl may have seen it too, if he was looking. We have to get out of here. Lie still, let me see if I can help.”
Kahlan knelt on his other side and cupped her hand on his, on the hand that held the sword, held the magic. When her hand touched his, he felt a surge of power from the sword that startled him and nearly took his breath away. Somehow, he felt the magic was warning him, and trying to protect him.
Kahlan smiled down at him. She hadn’t felt it.
Zedd put one hand on Richard’s ribs and a finger under his chin as he spoke in a soft, calm, reassuring voice. As he listened to Zedd, Richard dismissed