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Something dark and small zipped past her, making her breath catch in her throat. Then another, behind her. Arrows. The air suddenly became thick with arrows, the Bird Man having ordered his hunters to bring down the shadows. Every one went true and found its mark, but they simply passed through the shadow things as if they were whizzing through smoke. Poison-tipped arrows were flying wildly everywhere. She knew that if one even nicked her or Richard, they were dead. Now she had to dodge the arrows as well as the shadows. She heard another whistle past her ear as she ducked at the last second. One skipped in the mud and flew past her leg.
Richard had reached the boy, but couldn’t grab the stone. All he was able to do was frantically strike down the advancing shadows. He couldn’t pause to try for the stone.
Kahlan was still a long way off, not able to run in as Richard had, cutting through them. She knew that if she inadvertently touched a shadow, she was dead. There were so many materializing around her the very air was like a gray maze. Richard fought around the boy in a circle that got smaller all the time. He held the sword in both hands, swinging it wildly. He dared not slow for an instant or they would close over him. There was no end to the shadow things.
Kahlan couldn’t make any headway. The shadows, floating past her from all around, and the arrows streaking by, cut her off at every turn, the arrows forcing her to jump back just as she went for an opening. She knew Richard wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. Hard as he fought, he was falling back in a tighter and tighter circle, closer to the boy. She was their only chance, and she wasn’t even close.
Another arrow zipped past, the feather flicking her hair.
“Stop the arrows!” she yelled angrily at the Bird Man. “Stop shooting the arrows! You’re going to kill us!”
Frustrated, he recognized her plight and reluctantly called a halt to the archers. But then they all drew knives and quickly advanced on the shadows. They had no idea what they were up against. They would be killed to the last man.
“No!” she screamed, shaking her fists. “If you touch them you will die! Stay back!”
The Bird Man held his arm up, stopping his men. She knew how helpless he felt as he watched her dart back among the shadows, angling slowly closer to Richard and Siddin.
She heard another voice. It was Toffalar, yelling.
“Stop them! They are destroying our ancestors’ spirits! Shoot them with your arrows! Shoot the outsiders!”
Hesitantly, looking at one another, the archers nocked arrows to their bows once again. They could not disobey one of the elders.
“Shoot them!” he yelled, red-faced, shaking his fist. “You heard me! Shoot them!”
They brought up their bows. Kahlan crouched, preparing to try to jump out of the way once the arrows were loosed. The Bird Man stepped in front of his men, holding his arm out, across them, countermanding the order. There were words she couldn’t hear between him and Toffalar. She wasted no time, and took the opportunity to work her way forward, ducking under the outstretched arms of the floating shadow things.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Toffalar. He had a knife and was running toward her. She dismissed the danger; sooner or later he would run into a shadow and be killed. He stopped here and there to plead with the shadow things. She couldn’t hear his words above the wails. The next time she looked he had closed most of the distance. It was unbelievable that he hadn’t run into one. Somehow the gaps just opened for him as he ran heedlessly, recklessly, for her, his face contorted in rage. Still, she didn’t worry that he could make it; soon he had to touch one, and would be dead.
Kahlan gained the rest of the open ground, but found the ring of shadows around Richard and Siddin an impenetrable gray wall. There was no opening. She dodged right, then left, trying to find a way in, but couldn’t get through. She was so close, yet so far, and the trap was closing around her, too. Several times she barely escaped by stepping back before shadows converged. Richard snatched glimpses to see where she was. He tried to fight through to her a number of times, but was forced to turn to the other side to keep the shadows from Siddin.
With a start, she saw the knife slashing through the air. Toffalar had reached her. Lost in hate, he screamed things she couldn’t even understand. But she understood the knife, what he intended. He intended to kill her. She dodged his slash. It was her opening.
And then she made a mistake.
She started to reach to touch Toffalar, but caught sight of Richard looking toward her. She faltered at the thought of him seeing her use her power. She hesitated, and let Toffalar have the instant he needed. Richard screamed her name in warning, then turned to fight back the shadows from behind him.
Toffalar’s knife came up, hitting her right arm, deflecting off the bone.
Shock and pain ignited her rage. Rage at her own stupidity. She did not miss the opening a second time. Her left hand came up and caught Toffalar by the throat. She felt her grip shut off his air for an instant. She needed only to touch him; grabbing him by the throat was a reflex of her rage, not her power.
Though there were terrified screams and shouts coming from people all around, and the horrifying wails from the shadows Richard was destroying wholesale, her mind went suddenly quiet, calm. There was no sound in her head. Only silence. The silence of what she was going to do.
In the calm spark of an instant that to her twisted for an eternity, she saw the look of fear in Toffalar’s eyes, the realization of his fate. She saw in his eyes his railing against that end, felt his muscles beginning to tense, to fight her, his hands starting the ever so slow, hopeless journey to her grip at his throat.
But he had no chance, not the slightest glimmer. She was in control now. Time was hers. He was hers. She felt no pity. No remorse. Only deadly calm.
As she had done countless times before, in her calm, the Mother Confessor relaxed her restraint. Released at last, her power slammed into Toffalar’s body.
There was a hard impact to the air; thunder with no sound. Water in the puddles around her danced and flung muddy droplets into the air.
Toffalar’s eyes went wide. The muscles of his face went slack. His mouth fell open.
“Mistress!” he called out in a reverent whisper.
The calm expression on her face contorted with anger. With all her strength she shoved Toffalar backward, at the ring of shadows around Richard and Siddin. Arms flung in the air, he fell into the shadows and screamed at the contact before falling to the mud. Somehow, the contact opened a brief, small gap in the ring of shadows. Without hesitation she dove for it, flinging herself through an instant before it closed behind her.
Kahlan threw herself over Siddin.
“Hurry!” Richard yelled.
Siddin didn’t look at her; his face was fixed on the shadows, his mouth open, all his muscles locked. She tried to get the stone from his tight little fist, but his fingers were fastened around it with the strength of his fright. She snatched the pouch from his other hand. Gripping the pouch and his wrist with her left hand, she started prying his little fingers off the stone with
the right, begging him the whole time to let go. He didn’t hear her. Blood ran down her arm to her shaking hand, mixing with the rain, making her fingers slippery.
A shadowy hand reached for her face. She flinched back. The sword hissed past her face, through the shadow. It added its wail to the others. Siddin’s eyes were transfixed on the shadows, all his muscles rigid. Richard was right over her, swinging the sword in weaving patterns all around. There was no more ground to give. It was just the three of them now. Siddin’s slippery fingers wouldn’t open.
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.
