Nathan stroked back his long white hair. “Frankly, I’ve had enough of the Dark Lands and all this gloom. The Old World has more sunshine.”
Nicci considered, realizing she had followed him, but with no real goal otherwise. She just wanted to serve Richard and strengthen his new, solid empire, to help bring about his longed-for golden age. “I have my own orders from Lord Rahl to explore his new empire and send reports back of the things we find. At Kol Adair, or elsewhere.”
“And save the world,” Red added.
She did not believe Red’s prediction—how was she supposed to save the world by traveling to, or seeing, a place she’d never heard of?—but the wizard had a valid point.
The Old World, once part of the Imperial Order, was now under the rule of D’Hara. Even those distant people would want to hear of their freedom, to know that Lord Rahl would insist on self-determination and standards of respect. She had to see what was out there, and take care of problems she saw, so that Richard need not be bothered. “Yes, I will go with you.”
Nathan adjusted his cape and shouldered his pack, just as eager to depart as he had been to find the witch woman in the first place, but Nicci hesitated. “Before we go south to the Old World, we need to tell Lord Rahl where we’re going. We have no way to communicate with him.” She didn’t want Richard or Kahlan to worry about the two of them if they disappeared for a time.
“We could find a way to send a message when we reach Tanimura,” Nathan said. “Or some other town along the way.”
Red surprised them. “I will take care of it.”
She picked up the crow’s limp carcass and cradled the bird in her hands, extending its flopping wings. She adjusted its lolling head, straightened its broken neck, then closed her eyes in concentration.
After a moment, the crow squirmed and fluffed its feathers. Red set the reanimated bird back on the stone bench, where it tottered drunkenly. The neck remained angled in the wrong direction, and its eyes held no glint of life at all, but it moved, like a marionette. The crow stretched its wings, as if fighting the remnants of death, then folded them back against its sides.
“Tear a strip of paper from a page of your life book, Nathan Rahl,” she said, handing him the black quill. “There should be enough ink left for you to write a note for Lord Rahl.”
Nathan did so, scratching out a quick summary on a thin curl of paper. When he was finished, Red rolled it tightly and bound the strip to the crow’s stiff leg. “My bird has sufficient animation to reach the People’s Palace. Lord Rahl will know where you are going.”
She tossed the awkward crow up into the air. Nicci watched the dead bird plummet back to the ground, but at the last moment it extended its wings, stiffly flapped them, rose up beyond the enormous oak, and flew into the dusk.
Hunter’s ears perked up, and the catlike creature sniffed the air before bounding off into the forest to dart among the shadows of the tall trees. Out beyond Red’s sheltered hollow, Nicci saw a flash of fur, something as large as a horse prowling through the thickets. Hunter happily bounded after it, frolicking through the underbrush, and disappeared along with the large predatory shape in the deeper gloom.
Red looked up. “Hunter’s mother often joins us for dinner.” Her mouth formed an odd smile. “Would you like to stay?”
Nicci took note of the strewn bones and skulls and decided not to take further risks. “We should go.”
“Thank you, witch woman,” Nathan said as they headed into the thickening night. Even alone in the wild, dark forest, Nicci guessed they would be safer than if they chose to stay at Red’s cottage.
Nathan strode along, paying no attention to the skulls. “It will be a grand adventure. Once we leave the Dark Lands, we can head south to Tanimura. At Grafan Harbor, we’re sure to find a ship sailing south. We will find Kol Adair, and that’s just a start.”
Richard had told her to go to the boundaries of the D’Haran Empire, and she decided that the far south was a perfectly viable option. “I suppose the rest of the world will be sufficient for our purposes.”
*
After Red watched the two disappear into the forest, Hunter trotted in and squatted by the cook fire. Moments later, his shaggy mother padded in, as big as a bear and bristling with cinnamon fur. The much smaller son nuzzled her, wanting to play, but Hunter’s mother thrust a huge head forward to Red, who dutifully scratched the silky fur behind the creature’s ears, scrubbing with the nails on both of her hands. Hunter’s mother made a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a purr; then she slumped heavily among the fallen leaves in the clearing.
Red picked up Nathan’s hefty life book. Yes, even a quiet and tedious life could add up to significant events in a thousand years. She knew the real chronicle was just beginning for Nathan, and the real mission in store for both of them. Even though Nicci refused to let Red create such a book for her, the witch woman had been an oracle. She knew that the life of the sorceress, both past and future, would fill many volumes as well.
And the Sorceress must save the world.
Carrying Nathan’s tome, Red pushed aside the hanging leather flap over the opening and ducked inside her cottage. The low dwelling was lit with the orange glow of guttering candles settled in skull pots. The front room was small and cramped, but at the back wall against the hillside, she pushed aside another door hanging.
She entered the main part of her dwelling, a large complex of wide passageways and grottoes burrowed into the hillside itself. Red stood before shelves and shelves that were filled with numerous volumes similar to the one she held now. She had collected so many life books over the years, over the centuries, that she had lost track.
But oddly, and chillingly, every single one of the books had ended with the strange and previously incomprehensible words:
Future and Fate depend on both the journey and the destination.
Kol Adair lies far to the south in the Old World. From there, the Wizard will behold what he needs to make himself whole again. And the Sorceress must save the world.
The same words in every book. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. Each one with the same warning.
Red slid the story of Nathan Rahl into an empty slot on the shelf next to another volume. Countless life books, nearly one for each of those skulls buried under the moss.…
CHAPTER 4