Severed Souls. Terry Goodkind
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there was nothing more important to Kahlan than Richard’s safety. More than his importance to everyone else, he was everything to her and if Nicci could best protect him, then Kahlan wanted the sorceress as close to him as possible.
Zedd followed on Kahlan’s heels while Samantha and Irena were swept up and carried along with the tide of men rushing up from behind. Some of the men fanned out to the sides, creating protective wings around Richard and Kahlan and making sure that they weren’t taken by surprise from an attack from the sides.
In the grip of the rage from the sword, Richard wasn’t going to slow for anything and it wasn’t long before he had outdistanced the rest of them. He ran through the woods, weaving his way among the trunks of towering pines, through thickets of brush, over rocks and fallen trees and streams with the kind of practiced abandon that the rest of them couldn’t match. It was like watching an unstoppable shadow slip among the timber to be absorbed into the darkness out ahead.
More than that, though, the sickness she carried within her was hampering Kahlan’s ability to keep up. It was troubling the way it sapped her strength, leaving her winded long before she ordinarily would have been. Richard had the same sickness of death growing all the time inside him, but it was more advanced in Kahlan. That death within would soon claim them both, but if not stopped it was destined to take her first.
The way that weakness swiftly drained her strength as she ran after Richard not only surprised her, it alarmed her. Zedd and Nicci had warned her how serious the situation was, and how the inner poisonous touch of death from Jit would steadily grow stronger. If it wasn’t removed, neither Richard nor Kahlan would live much longer.
As she started losing ground to Richard and Nicci and struggled to get her breath, Zedd put a hand on Kahlan’s back, between her shoulder blades. It was not merely meant to help her keep her balance. While he couldn’t remove what was poisoning her, at least not until they could get back to the People’s Palace, he was trickling his gift into her to add strength to the life within her still fighting for survival. That trickle of power was enough to help her keep up. She knew, though, that it wouldn’t last for long.
From time to time Kahlan heard the soldier’s screams out ahead of them. The sound of those screams were getting closer. She knew it must be the half people attacking the man, but since they weren’t making any noise she had no idea how many there might be. She hated running headlong into such an unknown situation, but there was no other choice except to leave the man to be killed, and that was not acceptable.
In the early dawn light, she saw branches sweep out of the darkness at her at the last instant before they whipped past. Sometimes she had to quickly duck to the side to keep from being hit in the face. Sometimes it was too late and she could only close her eyes. Other times, when they sprang back as Richard batted limbs out of his way, they slapped her shoulder.
At times, if the bough was too large to shove aside or avoid, Richard simply swung his sword as he rushed headlong through the dense woods, sending the limb sailing up and out of his way to come down among those following behind. The men shielded themselves with an arm whenever a branch came down among them. Kahlan struggled to regain sight of Richard as he vanished from time to time among the thick growth of spruce saplings and brush only to reappear again as he bounded up and over a fallen tree trunk or an outcropping of rock.
At a dead run, breaking through into an open area of the forest with little ground cover among maple and birch trees, they abruptly ran up on a knot of half-naked people smeared with white ash, all hunched over around something on the ground.
They were Shun-tuk.
In the weak, early dawn light the Shun-tuk looked like ghosts. All had eye sockets painted with a black, greasy substance. Wide grins of teeth drawn on their faces completed the look, making them resemble skulls. Most of their heads were shaved, but some had a knot of hair remaining at the top that was tied up with strings of beads and bones to keep it standing up straight so that it resembled a fountain of hair.
Some of the men turned from their prey to look up in surprise as Richard bounded over a boulder and leaped in at them, suddenly screaming in rage, his sword held high in both fists.
In that frozen instant, Kahlan saw that the startled faces were dripping with blood.
The Shun-tuk had knives, but they remained in their sheaths.
Instead, they used only their teeth.
Richard crashed down among the chalky figures, his fury at last unleashed. His blade swung around in an arc, lopping off a shaved head with startled, dark painted eyes. The speed of the weapon was so great that the tip whistled through the air even as the blade continued on to gash open the shoulder of the Shun-tuk beside the headless man, almost completely severing his arm. Richard immediately delivered a powerful side kick to the man rushing in on his other side.
As some of the half people around Richard toppled to the sides, Kahlan saw the soldier down on the ground under the white figures crowded around him like a pack of wolves in a feeding frenzy. Despite Richard killing several as he charged in, others only glanced sideways up at him, unwilling to relinquish the flesh clenched in their teeth. Others, lost in bloodlust, seemed oblivious of the danger to themselves as they tore flesh from the soldier.
Even with the half people piled in on him, the soldier still had his sword in his right hand and a knife clutched tightly in his left fist. He kicked and swung his sword past the bodies trying to hold him on the ground and at the same time used his knife to stab at others still trying to get in on the feast.
His screams were as much rage as pain. Wherever it was not protected by his leather armor his flesh was torn and bloody, but he was quite alive and full of fight.
It was clear that the soldier had fought fiercely, as any of the First File would have. A number of the white figures lay strewn along the forest floor, a line of bloody bodies marking a trail along which they had fought him to a stop.
A few of those downed Shun-tuk lying around the soldier were still alive and lay panting in agony as they bled out. Their wounds were clearly unsurvivable. Others, horrifically wounded from the soldiers’ blades, writhed among the ferns and mosses at the side of a small brook as their blood ran down the rocks, turning the moss and water red. Some moaned, but none of them screamed in pain as did most of the wounded Kahlan had seen injured in battle.
The majority of the downed Shun-tuk, though, were clearly dead. The soldier had not gone down easily and the enemy had paid a heavy price to get him to ground.
The problem was, there simply had been too many of the half people for him to fight them all off. The danger to themselves seemed less important to these soulless beings than getting at their victim and having a chance to try to steal his soul.
Richard’s sword arced around to cleanly cleave the head off a chalky figure rising up to grab him and try to pull him down with the soldier. A few others rose up, eager to rip into the new people coming their way in an effort to devour a soul for themselves.
To Kahlan’s alarm, though, most of them charged Richard as if they recognized him and wanted him more than anyone else.
Before the Shun-tuk could overwhelm Richard and take him down under the weight of their numbers, the soldiers crashed into the pack of whitewashed figures, driving most back away from Richard. The half people, oblivious of the danger, immediately attacked the soldiers descending on them.
But teeth were no match for razor-sharp steel.
The terrible sight reminded Kahlan of blades scything down wheat. It was brutal butchery of savages bent only on murder.
None of what the soldiers did could match the violence Richard’s sword brought to them. As half people reached for him, his sword took off fingers, hands, arms, heads, and split their bodies nearly in half. It seemed that his blade never paused and each time found its mark, shattering skulls and severing flesh and bone.
Knowing