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Naked Empire :: Goodkind Terry
Страница: 439 из 495I can touch Nicholas with my power, or Richard and the rest of you can think of something to do to save me.
"But if Richard dies, then our chances end."
"But, Mother Confessor," Jennsen sobbed, "if you do this, then we'll lose you…."
Kahlan looked to each face, her anger rising. "If any of you have a better idea, then put words to it. Otherwise, you are risking me losing the only chance left."
No one had anything to say. Kahlan was the only one with a realistic plan of action. The rest of them had only wishes. Wishing would not save Richard.
Kahlan started out once again, hurrying her pace to get there in time.
CHAPTER 57
Kahlan paused in the quiet darkness not far from the bridge. She could just make out what appeared to be a burly man standing on the other side. He was all alone. She couldn't see his face, or tell what he looked like. She scanned the far bank of the river, along with the trees and buildings she could make out in the moonlight, looking for soldiers, or anyone else.
Jennsen clutched her arm. "Kahlan… please." Her voice was choked with tears.
Kahlan felt oddly calm. There were no options for her to weigh, so she suffered no gnawing indecision; there was only one choice. Richard lived, or he died. It was as simple as that. The choice was clear.
Her mind was made up, and with that came clarity and determination. She could now focus on what she was to do.
The river through the city was larger than Kahlan had expected. The steep banks to each side, in this area, anyway, were a few dozen feet high and lined with stone blocks. The bridge itself, wide enough for wagons to pass each other, had two arches to make the span and side rails with simple stone caps. The waters below were dark and swift. It was not a river she would want to have to try to swim.
Kahlan approached as far as the foot of the bridge and stopped. The man on the other side watched her.
"Do you have the antidote?" she called over to him.
He lifted what looked like a little bottle high above his head. He lowered the arm and pointed to the bridge. He wanted her to come across.
"Mother Confessor," Owen pleaded, "won't you reconsider?"
She gazed into his wet eyes.
"But if Richard dies, then our chances end."
"But, Mother Confessor," Jennsen sobbed, "if you do this, then we'll lose you…."
Kahlan looked to each face, her anger rising. "If any of you have a better idea, then put words to it. Otherwise, you are risking me losing the only chance left."
No one had anything to say. Kahlan was the only one with a realistic plan of action. The rest of them had only wishes. Wishing would not save Richard.
Kahlan started out once again, hurrying her pace to get there in time.
CHAPTER 57
Kahlan paused in the quiet darkness not far from the bridge. She could just make out what appeared to be a burly man standing on the other side. He was all alone. She couldn't see his face, or tell what he looked like. She scanned the far bank of the river, along with the trees and buildings she could make out in the moonlight, looking for soldiers, or anyone else.
Jennsen clutched her arm. "Kahlan… please." Her voice was choked with tears.
Kahlan felt oddly calm. There were no options for her to weigh, so she suffered no gnawing indecision; there was only one choice. Richard lived, or he died. It was as simple as that. The choice was clear.
Her mind was made up, and with that came clarity and determination. She could now focus on what she was to do.
The river through the city was larger than Kahlan had expected. The steep banks to each side, in this area, anyway, were a few dozen feet high and lined with stone blocks. The bridge itself, wide enough for wagons to pass each other, had two arches to make the span and side rails with simple stone caps. The waters below were dark and swift. It was not a river she would want to have to try to swim.
Kahlan approached as far as the foot of the bridge and stopped. The man on the other side watched her.
"Do you have the antidote?" she called over to him.
He lifted what looked like a little bottle high above his head. He lowered the arm and pointed to the bridge. He wanted her to come across.
"Mother Confessor," Owen pleaded, "won't you reconsider?"
She gazed into his wet eyes.