“Any word from Shale or Kahlan?”
Vika shook her head. “No, Lord Rahl.”
Shale had been healing Kahlan, and she didn’t want Richard looking over her shoulder. At her insistence he had gone off to another bedroom to get some sleep. But with his worry over Kahlan, he had gotten precious little rest.
The soldiers, weapons to hand, were all looking off down the hall to Richard’s left, ready to protect him from whatever they were concerned about. The men had been standing guard nearby outside the bedroom he had been using, and apparently something down that hallway had brought them in close to his room. Whatever had them on high alert had drawn their swords.
“What was that sound?” he asked as he slipped the leather baldric over his head to lie on his right shoulder. “I thought I heard something.”
The commander of the detachment pointed with his sword down the hallway to the side. “We heard an odd sound as well, Lord Rahl, but I’m not exactly sure what it was. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a natural sound, like the creaking of the palace you sometimes hear.”
Richard secured his sword at his left hip. The ornate gold and silver of the scabbard gleamed in the lamplight. He knew from the window back in the bedroom he had been sleeping in that it was not yet dawn.
Before he could ask the commander to describe the sound, Richard heard something new, loud and distinct. Even though it was some distance down the hall, it was clear that this time it was a bloodcurdling cry.
Richard immediately took off down the hall toward the source of the shriek. The entire group of big men of the First File abruptly fell in behind him.
Richard raced down an elegant blue and gold carpet of the broad corridor toward the sounds of yet more screams. Without slowing, he made a turn to the right down a narrower hall, following the frantic cries. It was hard to turn on the slippery stone, so he deliberately hit the paneled wall with his left shoulder and rebounded off of it to help him turn the corner down a narrower hall.
Vika shoved men to one side then the other as she pushed and squeezed her way through the cluster of big, heavily armed soldiers in order to get close to Richard. All of the men knew that Vika was Richard’s personal guard, so they didn’t try to stop her, even though the First File was also his personal guard. None were willing to challenge a Mord-Sith with an Agiel in her fist, especially not one dressed in her red leather.
The First File was the closest line of defense for the Lord Rahl. These men had worked all their lives to earn a place in the First File. They were all powerful men in chain mail and shaped leather armor. They were all experts in every weapon they carried. Each was deadly. They were all the elite of the elite. Each would lay down his life before he allowed trouble to get a look at Richard.
Yet none wanted to disagree with a Mord-Sith who insisted she be closest to Lord Rahl. Like them, like all the Mord-Sith, Vika wanted nothing more than to protect Richard. For the Mord-Sith, their greatest wish was to die in their duty of protecting the Lord Rahl. It was a twisted wish, but then, the Mord-Sith were rather twisted women.
When Richard had released them all from their long history of enforced bondage to the Lord Rahl, they all chose on their own to stay right where they were. If anything, freeing them and giving them their lives back had only made them more devoted to protecting him, now by choice, not a lifetime of training, punishment, and compulsory duty.
The hall they were all racing down, while elegantly paneled with dyed maple, was dimly lit with reflector lamps spaced a good distance apart, leaving a lot of unsettling shadows. Following the sporadic, weak sound of pain and the occasional, otherworldly, echoing bellow, Richard passed dozens of rooms to each side before having to turn down another hall branching off to the left. The thick, dark mass of soldiers flowed through the halls behind him and Vika. The new hall he entered had only one lamp, back near the intersection, so they were all running into growing darkness.
Even before Richard drew his sword, the weapon’s magic was calling to him, eager to join with his suddenly awakened anger at the unknown threat. The magic of the blade was impatient to join with the Seeker’s fury and taste the blood of the enemy.
Knowing that he was getting closer to the source of the sounds, Richard at last drew his sword. The unique ring of steel as it was pulled free of the scabbard echoed through the confined space. What little light there was seemed to give the black steel a sinister glow.
Now, with that ancient weapon in his fist, there was nothing holding back the power of the sword’s magic from flowing into him. Together, his fury and the sword’s joined, ready to confront any threat, eager to meet the enemy.
Behind Richard, the soldiers’ weapons clanged and jangled. The dim lamplight sent flashes of reflections off them into the darkness.
As they raced onward, darkness closed in around them. It grew hard to see. Even as they rushed ahead, the weak gasps had died out. The footfalls of all the men sounded like rolling thunder echoing through the narrow hallway.
Suddenly, Richard came upon the crumpled form of one of the men of the First File. A quick look told him that the man had been mauled. Great wounds were cut right through the leather breastplate and the man’s rib cage, exposing his insides. His arms were shredded to the bone through the chain mail. He had no weapon in his bloody fists.
Richard looked up just in time to see a dark shape in the distance. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it was moving away from them. When it paused to look back, Richard could just detect the lamplight from quite a distance behind him reflecting a dim gold color in the eyes of the predator.
Having already taken in the sight as he had approached the downed soldier, he bounded over the man without losing a stride and was off down the hall after the attacker.
The thing was swift and made no sound. In a fleeting moment, it had melted into the darkness. Richard charged down the dark hallway after it, determined not to let it get away.
Vika grabbed his shirt at his shoulder and pulled him to a stop. Her teeth were gritted in anger.
“What do you think you are doing?” she growled.
“I’m going after it!” Richard jerked his shirt free of her grip.
Before he could be off after the attacker again, she hooked an arm around his to keep him from getting away. “No, you are not going after it! It’s all dark down there. We don’t even know what that thing is. Did you see what it did to that man back there?”
“Yes, the same thing it had started to do to Kahlan. I have to—”
“No you don’t! It wants you to follow. It’s black as pitch down there. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Richard, as angry as he was about the man being killed, frowned at her. “What do you mean, it wants me to follow?”
Vika gestured angrily back with an arm. “Don’t you see? It mauled that man within earshot of where you were sleeping. It wanted to draw you out and down here, into the dark. It wanted you to come after it.”
“It could have just appeared in the bedroom and had me there.”
“You heard what Nolo said. They want this world, but they are wary of your gift. They don’t understand it. This one wanted to get you to do something stupid so that you would be vulnerable—just as the Mother Confessor was when one of them attacked her.
“They are using your empathy for your people to try to draw you to them. For all we know there could be an ambush down that hallway, waiting in the dark, with the intention of trying to overcome your magic. There could be dozens of them waiting down there to tear you apart.”
The commander of the men standing close behind Richard smoothed down his thick beard as he caught his breath. “I think you should listen to her, Lord Rahl. She has a good point. It could have attacked any number of people asleep in the palace without being heard or discovered. Had it done that, we would only later find the remains. This attack on a lone sentry, near your quarters, only makes sense if you see it as a tactic to draw you out.”