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Wizards First Rule :: Goodkind Terry
Страница: 608 из 638Chase looked over at Zedd, letting out a noisy breath.
He bent to collect his things. "I'm not leaving without my weapons."
"We better hurry before she gets too far ahead. She won't wait for us." The wizard picked up Kahlan's pack, stuffing gear into it. "We better at least grab some of our supplies." He smoothed a wrinkle on the pack. "Chase, I don't think we are going to return from this; the Con Dar is a suicide venture. You have a family. There is no need for you to go."
Chase didn't look up. "What's a Mord-Sith?" he asked quietly.
The wizard swallowed hard, his hands gripping the pack so firmly they shook. "Mord-Sith are trained from a young age in the art of torture, and the use of a merciless weapon of pain, called an Agiel. That was the red thing hanging from Darken Rahl's neck. Mord-Sith are used against those with magic. They have the power to take a person's magic, and use it against them." Zedd's voice broke, "Richard would not have known that. He had no chance. The only purpose in life for a Mord-Sith, the only thing they live for, is to torture to death those with magic."
Chase rammed a fistful of blanket into the pack. "I'm going."
Zedd nodded his understanding. "I will be glad for your company."
"Are these Mord-Sith a danger to us?"
"Not to you, you have no magic, and not to wizards, I have protection."
"What about to Kahlan."
Zedd shook his head. "A Confessor's magic is different from any other. The touch of a Confessor's magic is death to a Mord-Sith. A very bad death. I saw it once. I don't want to ever see it again." Zedd's eyes glided over the bloody mess, thinking of what they had done to Kahlan, and what they almost did. "I guess," he whispered, "I have seen a lot of things I wish to never see again."
As Zedd hoisted Kahlan's pack to his shoulder, there was an impact to the air, thunder with no sound. They both ran to the trail, ran for Kahlan. They had only gone a short distance when they found the last man, sprawled across the way where he had lain in wait. His own sword jutted from his chest. Both his hands held the hilt in a death grip.
They both kept running until they caught up with her. She strode purposefully along, eyes ahead, disinterested in what was about her. Her Confessor's dress flowed and flapped behind her like a flame in wind. Zedd had always thought Confessors looked beautiful in their dresses, especially the white of the Mother Confessor.
But he saw it now for what it really was.
He bent to collect his things. "I'm not leaving without my weapons."
"We better hurry before she gets too far ahead. She won't wait for us." The wizard picked up Kahlan's pack, stuffing gear into it. "We better at least grab some of our supplies." He smoothed a wrinkle on the pack. "Chase, I don't think we are going to return from this; the Con Dar is a suicide venture. You have a family. There is no need for you to go."
Chase didn't look up. "What's a Mord-Sith?" he asked quietly.
The wizard swallowed hard, his hands gripping the pack so firmly they shook. "Mord-Sith are trained from a young age in the art of torture, and the use of a merciless weapon of pain, called an Agiel. That was the red thing hanging from Darken Rahl's neck. Mord-Sith are used against those with magic. They have the power to take a person's magic, and use it against them." Zedd's voice broke, "Richard would not have known that. He had no chance. The only purpose in life for a Mord-Sith, the only thing they live for, is to torture to death those with magic."
Chase rammed a fistful of blanket into the pack. "I'm going."
Zedd nodded his understanding. "I will be glad for your company."
"Are these Mord-Sith a danger to us?"
"Not to you, you have no magic, and not to wizards, I have protection."
"What about to Kahlan."
Zedd shook his head. "A Confessor's magic is different from any other. The touch of a Confessor's magic is death to a Mord-Sith. A very bad death. I saw it once. I don't want to ever see it again." Zedd's eyes glided over the bloody mess, thinking of what they had done to Kahlan, and what they almost did. "I guess," he whispered, "I have seen a lot of things I wish to never see again."
As Zedd hoisted Kahlan's pack to his shoulder, there was an impact to the air, thunder with no sound. They both ran to the trail, ran for Kahlan. They had only gone a short distance when they found the last man, sprawled across the way where he had lain in wait. His own sword jutted from his chest. Both his hands held the hilt in a death grip.
They both kept running until they caught up with her. She strode purposefully along, eyes ahead, disinterested in what was about her. Her Confessor's dress flowed and flapped behind her like a flame in wind. Zedd had always thought Confessors looked beautiful in their dresses, especially the white of the Mother Confessor.
But he saw it now for what it really was.