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Faith of the Fallen :: Goodkind Terry
Страница: 601 из 617She could feel his lice ticking againsther face as they sprang at her.
Terror seized her. Such sudden and intense terror was an unfamiliar sensation, smothering her mind.
She dug her heels into the stone as he drew her back into the black labyrinth. She kicked furiously at him. She tried to draw her dacra from her sleeve, but he seized her arm and twisted it behind her back.
His forearm crushed against her exposed throat, choking off her air as he lifted her from her feet.
Nicci couldn't breathe. He chortled with glee as he dragged her into the darker recesses of the rooms beneath Jagang's palace.
-]--
Their eyes met just when she had been abruptly and violently snatched into the darkness. Richard saw in those eyes something important, saw that Nicci intended to help him. But she was gone.
Cara desperately clutched his shoulders as he lay back against her. He was cold. She was warm.
Kahlan fell back, writhing in the darkness. She clawed at her throat.
He could hear her choking.
"Mother Confessor! Mother Confessor! What's wrong?"
Richard reached up and seized Cara behind her head. He pulled her face close.
"Someone has Nicci. They're choking her. Cara-you have to go save Nicci, or Kahlan will die. And Nicci is the only one who can heal me. Go.
Hurry."
He felt Cara nodding before he released her head.
"I understand" was all she said as she gently, but swiftly, laid him back on the cold stone.
And then she was gone.
It was wet. He didn't know if it was blood, or water. They were underground, in the nether reaches of the Retreat. Through open beams where the flooring above hadn't been laid, moonlight flooded down to light Kahlan struggling not far away. He could see, then, as she fought an invisible foe, that it was water. That's what it was. Not blood. Water. The palace was next to the river. It was wet in the little rooms and halls down in the bottom.
"Kahlan," he murmured. She didn't respond. "Hold on. ."
Gripping his abdomen, holding the wound closed lest his insides burst out, he inched his way through the water, across the cold stone. The pain had finally and firmly arrived. He could feel the terrible damage inside. He tried to blink away the tears of hot agony. He had to hold on. Icy sweat drenched his face. Kahlan had to hold on.
His hand, covered in blood, reached out to her. His fingers found hers.
She hardly responded, but at least her fingers moved. He was thankful beyond words that her fingers moved.
It had been a good plan.
Terror seized her. Such sudden and intense terror was an unfamiliar sensation, smothering her mind.
She dug her heels into the stone as he drew her back into the black labyrinth. She kicked furiously at him. She tried to draw her dacra from her sleeve, but he seized her arm and twisted it behind her back.
His forearm crushed against her exposed throat, choking off her air as he lifted her from her feet.
Nicci couldn't breathe. He chortled with glee as he dragged her into the darker recesses of the rooms beneath Jagang's palace.
-]--
Their eyes met just when she had been abruptly and violently snatched into the darkness. Richard saw in those eyes something important, saw that Nicci intended to help him. But she was gone.
Cara desperately clutched his shoulders as he lay back against her. He was cold. She was warm.
Kahlan fell back, writhing in the darkness. She clawed at her throat.
He could hear her choking.
"Mother Confessor! Mother Confessor! What's wrong?"
Richard reached up and seized Cara behind her head. He pulled her face close.
"Someone has Nicci. They're choking her. Cara-you have to go save Nicci, or Kahlan will die. And Nicci is the only one who can heal me. Go.
Hurry."
He felt Cara nodding before he released her head.
"I understand" was all she said as she gently, but swiftly, laid him back on the cold stone.
And then she was gone.
It was wet. He didn't know if it was blood, or water. They were underground, in the nether reaches of the Retreat. Through open beams where the flooring above hadn't been laid, moonlight flooded down to light Kahlan struggling not far away. He could see, then, as she fought an invisible foe, that it was water. That's what it was. Not blood. Water. The palace was next to the river. It was wet in the little rooms and halls down in the bottom.
"Kahlan," he murmured. She didn't respond. "Hold on. ."
Gripping his abdomen, holding the wound closed lest his insides burst out, he inched his way through the water, across the cold stone. The pain had finally and firmly arrived. He could feel the terrible damage inside. He tried to blink away the tears of hot agony. He had to hold on. Icy sweat drenched his face. Kahlan had to hold on.
His hand, covered in blood, reached out to her. His fingers found hers.
She hardly responded, but at least her fingers moved. He was thankful beyond words that her fingers moved.
It had been a good plan.