Title: No Fate But What We Make (3 of 15)
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Characters/Pairing: Cara, Kahlan (pre-Cara/Kahlan)
Chapter Rating: PG
Chapter Length: 5141
Chapter Summary: With the Boxes of Orden destroyed, the world is hardly fully safe—the Mother Confessor and the Seeker have to set out together, no matter what conflicts rage inside.
(Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2)
Chapter 3
It was like chopping off a chicken’s head, breaking the boxes of Orden. That’s what she told herself. Cara hardly felt in her own body as she sent the Sword of Truth crashing into them and felt the magic barrel outwards in a flash that destroyed her vision for a few seconds before she saw the crumbled blackened shards. It was just like farm life, wasn’t it. The earth trembled, and she could almost feel a shift as if the cracking of some barrier before Shota came forward, satisfaction mingling with worry in her eyes.
“This is just the first step,” the older woman said, putting her hands on Cara’s around the hilt of the Sword as if she was a mother passing on a legacy to her child. Cara thought, still a little detached, that it was all just that ordinary. Shota’s eyes shone with sharp purpose as she continued, “All the Keeper’s might will now be focused on taking advantage of the magical damage, but before he can move far you will already be on your way to finding the Stone of Tears. And if nothing else, Zedd left behind some starting points. You are the Seeker, Cara—you alone, with Kahlan as your Confessor, can do this.”
Cara stared, almost blankly, before asking, “You’re staying behind?”
“Believe me, my skills are better off in the realm of seeking knowledge, not peril,” Shota said with a grave look. “But you—time bears down on the two of you, and you must make your move. Don’t forget that Darken Rahl will know of this as well.”
For a moment, Cara itched to put an iron halt to everything before it began. She could put the Sword down, run, trust that Shota could not force her to do this, and the Mother Confessor would not. But she could be right. Looking into Shota’s eyes was like the first step into a library, seeing how much knowledge is there and not knowing what exactly it is, but knowing that somewhere among the dusty pages will be an answer. Cara felt that in this case, the answer was deadly serious, perhaps even prophetic. She thought about asking Shota if there was a prophecy concerning her, but bit her tongue instead. She’d never put stock in prophecies—either you did something, or you didn’t, and the only thing to blame or praise was choice. And she didn’t want to know in any case. She couldn’t; her entire world was a fresh wound, throbbing, and each pulse of pain reminded her that it was self-inflicted.
Cara sheathed the Sword of Truth across her back just like any ordinary tool, ignoring the pattering of her heart as she walked away. Shota had found trousers and a long leather tunic for her, the latter buckling up the sides in a compact, protective way, fitting snugly with a comfortable weight to the flaps descending from the waist. The soft brown boots, lacing up past her knees, made her stride with longer steps, and the twist of her hair away from her face made her hold her head high. In her mind, though, she was behind a wall of stubborn denial and this was just a part of life, something she would adapt to before moving on with things as normal. Always, she had to adapt.
Kahlan Amnell, Mother Confessor, now Cara’s Confessor, sat by herself among the tree-shadows in her travel leathers, green fabric cowled around her neck and wrapping her armored curves in something more regal. Even softened by the natural light and garments, she seemed like a stone statue—spiritless. She hadn’t spoken since she’d witnessed Cara being named Seeker within the ring of fire, when the tingling ribbon of magic traveled from the Sword to Cara to take permanent dwelling in a flash of lightning that made her feel almost sick.
Now her stomach twisted in a devil’s knot as Cara grimaced and approached the other woman. Fear, reserve, guilt, all of it hit her hard. When she was a child, she’d been shy, caring for people but only showing it when they approached her. Loss, and the constant fear and protection of her parents in her formative years, had stripped some of it away, as she’d felt the need to cling to what she wanted if she was to keep it from being stolen. And her first pregnancy, followed by a quick marriage of stability, had expunged the universal caring. She only cared for a few now, and was cautious about the rest of the world. But she still wanted to do everything right—she wanted to make everyone right. Even this deadly important woman whom she did not know, and whom she felt conflicted about knowing any further.
Cara Mason felt like an impostor in these clothes with a sword swinging against her back with every step. Standing a few feet away, uncomfortable and deep-down a little terrified still, she knew she was supposed to tell Kahlan that they had a mission to attend to. As laughably too-epic as it was. But she couldn’t. She stood stricken.
Then Kahlan’s shoulders trembled with an exhale that was more than a sigh. Even with her back to Cara, Kahlan’s hands were clearly visible in her lap, clenching and unclenching with hopeless repetition. It was random enough to spark a wave of yearning for her children to sweep over Cara, making the emptiness in her arms something that she would give anything to have filled. She pushed forward, taking steps even as she steeled herself to stop short of embarrassing forwardness.
“Mother Confessor?” she asked in a low voice, dropping gently to one knee among the twigs and putting her hand to Kahlan’s knee as she sat.
The dark-haired woman breathed in quickly, and raised her hand to her nose as if to cover a sniffle. “I know,” she said, emotion ragged in her voice, “we have to go, I just—”
This close, Cara could see the tear streaks on her face, freckles all the more obvious in her pallor. The wall around Cara’s heart cracked at the sight of sorrow, and for a moment she let missing her children fall aside because Kahlan was just like them. Unthinking, she swallowed the lump in her throat and put a hand to Kahlan’s shoulder, stroking her grief-tensed muscles. “He’s gone,” she said.
With a half-choking breath, Kahlan turned instinctively into her arm, resting her face in the crook of Cara’s neck. They shouldn’t be this vulnerable so soon, but then again, neither should the world around them fail them so. Cara forgot that she was almost a stranger, and that touch was to be carefully handled in any case, and just wrapped her arms around Kahlan to hold her while she hung in the grip of grief so unadulterated that it might as well be childlike. Kahlan’s arm clung to her, wrapping around Cara for comfort until finally resting on the Sword still strapped to Cara’s back. She flinched at the touch, and then crumbled further into Cara’s arms.
For a minute Cara just shut her eyes and held Kahlan close. For a minute Kahlan rested in her arms as if there was nowhere else she could be.
Then, as Cara instinctively knew would happen, Kahlan pulled herself slowly away. Drawing herself up, even as her hand lingered on the Sword, she swallowed and turned steady eyes to Cara’s. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I will be fine.”
There was nothing to say, so Cara just nodded with pursed lips.
Kahlan glanced down for a second, and then back up. “You survived this; I’m sure that I can manage half as well,” she said as she pulled herself to her feet.
Cara rose, glancing up at her eyes. She didn’t bring up the fact that she’d only married her husband with little more than liking and a stubborn desire to not face parenthood alone. There had been love between them of course, as the years passed and they grew closer with their children and the shared resistance. But even though it had begun with heady attraction, the relationship had never shaken Cara’s foundations. Her grief at his death had been quietly borne as it slowly and steadily faded.
“I did not tell her,” she said finally, indicating Shota with a tip of her head, “but for all that I am the Seeker, I don’t know what the next step is.”
With a flicker, the aura of collectedness returned around Kahlan, enough that she smiled through lingering tears as she stood firm. “I know enough to get us to the first stop.”
“Good,” Cara said, even though as soon as the word came out she flinched at the lameness.
Kahlan just sighed, holding herself incrementally more upright with each second. “The horses and provisions are ready?”
Cara nodded. Kahlan nodded back, and without a further word began walking away.
Yet this time, Cara knew for sure that it was not an ordinary task. They were not just riding to another province on a social errand, they were riding out to save the world. She shivered, again feeling like an impostor in this position. But it had to be done. They had to do it. So she had to try not to regret it.
*
The broken bits of Kahlan’s heart seemed to rattle around her ribcage, echoing the dull emptiness there. Her mind still worked fully, and she knew exactly what needed to be done, and knew furthermore that nothing else but her mind was needed. But she ached. Spirits, how she ached.
If anything, though, Cara’s slight awkwardness towards her helped. It was distracting, and the other woman seemed to know it and not care, or at least not care more than she cared about her own self-doubt. Each time Cara threw a skeptical look, pressing her full lips tightly together, Kahlan had to wonder how much she was telling. She’d seemed so soft on that first day, and this emotional armor had to be more fragile than she wanted Kahlan to believe.
“Have you ever been this far away from home?” Kahlan tried breaking the ice again, as they set up a straightforward campsite a day’s ride from the Abbey of Ulrich.
Cara frowned. “No. Why would I? All my family was in Stowcroft.”
“I’m sorry,” Kahlan answered instinctively.
“There’s no need to talk about it,” Cara said, lips twisting as she loosened the Sword’s sheath from her back to sit down, brushing stray hair back from her face.
But despite her reticence to cause emotional pain, Kahlan couldn’t stop the words from leaving her mouth, with a mask over the grief she wouldn’t let herself indulge in any longer. “My family has always been on the move. After me and my sister escaped our father, we’ve been separated almost half our time. I thought I lost her two years ago, but after the failed attack on Valleria she returned to Aydindril with me to help me restore rule. She’s there now.”
Cara didn’t pull back, at least not in words. “I always lived near my sister.”
Kahlan didn’t continue after that, reading in Cara the desire to aid Kahlan with words warring with the desire to forget everything she was abandoning from her hometown. She let the night fall silently around them for a while, wrapping them in cool darkness. That Cara wanted to help her, even if it spoke more of Cara’s nature than anything particular to Kahlan, made Kahlan’s heart throb a little less painfully.
But when her eyes fell shut for a second the smell of the campfire reminded her of a journey, over a year ago now, with a wizard and a Seeker who were both now dead. She jerked away, but it was more like a tremor, and she swallowed twice to clear the tightness in her throat. Cara sat across from her and noticed the shiver, and added wood to the fire. Kahlan couldn’t bring herself to explain the true reason, though—it was as if grief had jumbled all her words together, and they came out muddled.
“This doesn’t feel real,” she said.
Cara jabbed a stick into the fire, making it flare up and making her eyes shine. “Don’t question that,” she said under her breath. “Not again.”
“I’m not,” Kahlan said, looking at her and wondering if Cara knew how close Kahlan felt to her, just through reading. Despite the defensive walls, Kahlan felt Cara’s essence like clear water in a desert, now lit with the warmth of magic. She’d been feeling that essence for days now, and it was familiar, but without that power surely Cara would not understand Kahlan at all. Had Kahlan been more in control of herself, she wouldn’t have jumped straight into the middle of things. “Zedd spoke before, he sounded so sure of reality. More sure than I think I’ve ever been of anything. And yet, he said that in that world I'd lost my sister. He wouldn’t say how, but...” Kahlan closed her eyes for a second.
Cara didn’t answer, and so Kahlan’s words kept spilling out, filling the emptiness. “I don’t see how he could just accept a world like that. I can’t even imagine it. And he said you traveled with us, were a close friend, and I can’t imagine that. But today—I almost wanted something that inexplicable.”
The other woman shifted, not saying anything for a moment.
Guilt struck Kahlan as she realized seconds too late what she’d said. “I know that the wish isn’t wise. If I give any thought to it, I see how terrible such a selfish change would be. So many lives different, not by their choice. And you—I’m sure you can’t even imagine a world where you had no children.”
But Cara looked up at her then, with a clarity in her expression that was both hurt and amused. “Yes, I can.” The two emotions twisted, and the hurt squashed the amusement down. She dropped her eyes, jaw tight, as she said, “My children are very dear to me, but I did not spend my childhood imagining the life I had. It just happened. Just like this has. Life is inexplicable, always, and you have to accept that, love it.”
Kahlan swallowed again. “I know,” she said softly. But she still wanted it to go as planned. She still wanted to feel control, or at the very least that it was all meant to be. Right now, full of turmoil, she doubted her own past self, and wondered if she’d just hoped that she and Richard were destined instead of actually believing it. Then she thrust it out of the way, swallowing the harsh lump in her throat. “Tomorrow you should start training, before we reach the Abbey,” she said aloud, and almost surprised herself with the auditory collectedness.
“Training?” Cara sounded equally caught off guard for once out of all their—granted, few—conversations.
“The Sword’s magic will only carry so far,” Kahlan said, though not quite looking up and letting the low flames warm her hands and face too much. “And even though you were a teacher, the skills you learned on your farm will...it will be the same kind of...” Her throat gave out again, freezing up on her as memories of her very first days with a Seeker threatened to strike, but she forced her eyes up.
Cara’s gaze held hers for a moment, then dropped as she said, “This will be a short mission if we hurry; I don’t want to waste time with training.”
Kahlan shook her head, clearing her throat and mind again. It was getting easier with practice. “Your life is more important than mine right now, with finding that compass. You should train if only to give yourself protection.”
Cara let out one long breath, making it plain that she wasn’t going to protest.
The next day, as the sun rolled across the sky, Kahlan flung all the fighting knowledge she had at Cara. Her muscles became fluid, and the slight adrenaline felt good, much better than the tension of riding and grief alike. Cara wasn’t as easily affected—the woman’s movements were stiff and stilted at first, as expected, though the harder Kahlan pushed, the more she thought that maybe it was Cara’s mind that was stopping her from getting in touch with the magic of the Sword.
It was backward, when compared with Kahlan’s own state. Without saying a word, Kahlan let her heart free to pull Cara’s into the open. Spinning faster than Cara could wield the Sword of Truth, Kahlan let her daggers flash, striking this way and that until Cara’s eyes widened in anticipation of failure, even as she blocked hard and sharply. Hoping for Cara’s frustration to give her the agility she didn’t think she had, Kahlan told herself that it was the only reason she was putting so much emotion into this. Nothing about maybe wondering why this woman had to be more important than Richard. Of course not.
Kahlan let loose, finally pressing in until she held her hand against Cara’s bare throat. She felt her eyes narrow in on Cara, but in the woman’s green eyes she saw a burn behind the desperation. “Again,” Kahlan said in a whisper, harsh with her breathlessness.
Cara fought back, and yet Kahlan only half-cared that she was better now that she had stopped overthinking. She realized that none of it was about Cara anymore when Cara knocked her daggers out of the way and elbowed Kahlan’s arm aside, bringing the swordhilt up to Kahlan’s cheek and only stopping just short of knocking her down.
“You’re going easy on me?” the blonde demanded, soft hurt looking dark in her eyes and breathing heavy in her chest.
Kahlan swallowed, and lowered her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m distracted,” she said, taking a deep breath and reaching down to sheathe her knives in her boots again, feeling a quiver. “You’re doing well, though.”
“Mother Confessor,” Cara called after Kahlan had turned away towards the open green field.
She paused, not liking the way the weaker emotions still tugged on her heart, even though she’d given reckless permission.
“I don’t want to be trained by someone I don’t know,” Cara said shortly.
Kahlan turned slowly again, looking back at her. The woman—the Seeker—stood with shoulders slightly hunched, as if denying herself the talent she’d shown in the training, above and beyond what the Sword imbued. But she was just a woman as well, full of feelings that she was trying to control for the sake of this mission. Like Kahlan. Her spirit, with its true concern for Kahlan, shouldn’t be denied. For the sake of many things, but also because Kahlan didn’t want to deny it.
Feeling her face soften a little, she said, “You can call me Kahlan.”
Cara didn’t say anything, just nodded. “I’m sure I can work just fine if you need a break,” she added after a second, with a glance up at Kahlan as she adjusted the Sword in her grasp. “Kahlan.”
Kahlan let her eyes glance towards their campsite in the field, then up at the not-yet-setting sun. She breathed in the warm evening scent, letting it cleanse her lungs a little. There was nowhere else more helpful than here. “No, I’m not leaving yet,” she said, drawing her knives again. “We’ll make this work for you, Cara. And then whatever happens tomorrow, you’ll be safer.”
“So you hope,” Cara said under her breath as Kahlan started the forms again, daggers spinning in a familiar rhythm.
But Kahlan hoped many things, and was sure of none of them.
*
“If the Abbey was burned down last year, what makes you think we can still find the amulet?” Cara asked as they slowed their horses to cross the stream.
“Cara, that’s our only chance at getting the Stone.” Before Cara could respond with the point that she knew no fact better, Kahlan continued, “And Richard ordered all the D’Haran death camps to be disbanded, and their goods stored to be distributed later. We’ll find it.”
Glancing quickly to Kahlan, Cara wondered if she realized that despite her harsh tone of stubbornness, she’d said Richard’s name without faltering. Cara saw a different woman than the one she’d met five days ago: Hands firm on the reins, eyes burning ahead as she bent over to ride faster now, harder but not brittle. There was great strength of her heart, to already be healing like this, even if scars would likely remain with her for life.
Cara kept her attention on Kahlan, since she was not only the most intriguing, but the most distracting. The Confessor was a mystery in many ways, and Cara held onto that idea to keep the gritty reality of herself from weighing down. Even if every night she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, as if she might hug tightly enough to feel her children again. She wanted and feared the distraction, and so in a way, she wanted and feared to watch Kahlan as this journey shaped her. And she didn’t think about how it was shaping herself.
They stopped at the gates of the town, checking for signs of Darken Rahl and his D’Harans or Mord’Sith. None seemed present, and this town was far from the People’s Palace. Kahlan decided to have them ride openly in, the Sword of Truth clearly visible hanging from Cara’s back.
For the first time in her life, Cara saw surprised faces and joyous faces and skeptical faces all at once. This was nothing like her schoolchildren’s parents. When Kahlan announced her as a Seeker and asked for the villagers’ aid in finding the amulet from Ulrich, the boy who offered to clean her horse was not looking for special grades in return. Cara just stared at the awe on his face for a minute, and then, embarrassed and peeved, wanted to tell him that his mother was probably more a hero than she ever would be.
“Do they have it?” she asked Kahlan, once she’d pulled away, brushing at her cheeks as if that would eliminate the flush.
The relief on the Confessor’s face was answer enough. When she opened the silver locket, and the ink spilled out onto her hand in a magic rune, Cara was a bit glad that it wasn’t her hand—she had enough responsibility.
“Seeker, is it true that Darken Rahl has no powers now?” asked a village woman as Cara mounted her horse to ride out with Kahlan.
Cara stared down at her, frozen. “I don’t know anything.”
“He still has his Rahl magic,” Kahlan said as she rode up next to Cara, taking the question. “But nothing beyond that you will still be able to fight against him, if he tries to gain control over this village again.”
With that, they spurred their way off away and towards the tomb that would give them the compass.
“If you speak so ill of yourself, you’ll believe it,” Kahlan said quietly a little later, without looking from where she was riding.
Cara didn’t tell Kahlan that, under the awkwardness, that was the point. A part of her feared that this role might grow into her skin until she forgot all the mistakes she’d made for the sake of the world.
“I don’t believe it,” Kahlan added then. “We were all right to seek you out.”
Cara looked up, caught her eyes for a second before pulling away. The remark shouldn’t have eased any of her guilt—but it did, a little. “I haven’t failed yet, but...”
“No buts,” Kahlan said, quick and firm.
Cara kept riding, her hair tossed to the wind behind her, the light mirror of Kahlan’s flying dark locks. It struck her that maybe Kahlan was recovering from her torment already, accepting her shattered world as fixable and leaving Cara alone mired in conflict of spirit. It should have been the other way around, she thought, though only for a second. She set her mouth in a straight line and vowed to press on. If she could just seize victory for this mission, she might repay the damages she’d caused her family.
And if anyone was going to be at her side, see her at her worst like this, torn between two loyalties—well, at least it was someone whose judgment she was growing to trust.
*
“This is insane,” Cara whispered, eyes wide as they looked at the eight guards surrounding the tomb of Pomorra.
Kahlan had a hand on her shoulder as they crouched in the bushes. “The Sword is designed to help you succeed against impossible odds. You’ve been training for over a week, and even against me, someone you know is not your enemy, you are getting proficient.”
Cara shook her head. “I—”
It was a low blow, but Kahlan knew the woman needed the push, and so she said, “It’s our duty to try.”
Cara kept her eyes on the guards and their crossbows, but her hand gripped around her knee, knuckles sharp in the moonlight. “Fine,” she said, voice scarcely wavering.
Kahlan put a hand to her back, not wishing her luck because she knew Cara would wrongly feel that she needed it. Perhaps it was emotionally driven, as everything she did these days seemed to be, but she trusted Cara, more than the woman would probably ever trust herself. Days of riding, sleeping, hunting, cooking, cleaning gear and clothes alike...Cara could clearly handle everything she thought she could, and probably half a dozen things she was unsure about. There was a competence in her born of a stubborn need not to fail. It was different for a Seeker, as far as Kahlan’s experience went, and so she cherished it as she managed her grief.
Taking in a deep breath, she cast one final glance to see if Cara was ready. The Sword of Truth was drawn, and so with a confident cry, Kahlan charged in, daggers flying. She kicked up the first crossbow aimed, ducking and spinning under the next to grab the soldier by the throat. Behind him, as he fell, she saw the curving silver arc of Cara’s strike, but Kahlan was already turning, reaching down to yank her dagger from a corpse before driving it through the heart of another one of Darken Rahl’s former minions.
With a grunting cry, Cara finished off the last soldier, and leaned forward on the sword for a moment.
“We are alive,” Kahlan pointed out.
“I didn’t think death would ever become like this,” Cara muttered, tugging the Sword loose and leaning down to clean it, almost gingerly.
But the mission called, and Kahlan took a deep breath as she stood before the tomb. Hand raised, she felt a rush of relief when the doors parted, and yet another step was accomplished. Another amulet-like device sat on a shelf, silver marked with ancient runes, and Kahlan reached in to take it. When Cara came cautiously up behind her, Kahlan turned, swallowing the lump in her throat. “This is what Zedd spoke of, the compass that will guide the Seeker to the Stone.”
Cara nodded shortly. “We’re not doomed yet.” Biting the inside of her lip, she accepted the compass in her hand. It opened, and a blue glow illuminated her face with a musical hum. “So I am the Seeker after all,” she said dryly.
“Of course you are,” Kahlan said. The more the days passed, the more successfully she avoided thinking about Richard with that word. She was the Mother Confessor—and in a strange way, her duty to the Seeker, no matter who, was helping to quietly heal her heart.
The two of them returned to the glade that would work as a camp site, leaving the battlefield behind. And thinking of that for a moment as they walked in the dark, Kahlan glanced at Cara. “What did you mean when you said that about death?”
Cara’s brow creased in confusion, and she moved in silence for a few paces more before saying, “I never thought I’d kill anyone. When I was a child, I even protected animals.”
Kahlan nodded. A part of her wished that her childhood had been so innocent.
“Then, when I was twelve...” Cara continued, not meeting Kahlan’s eyes, “my—Dahlia—she and I, we always played in the field except that day, when women in red leather came and took her away. I didn’t understand. My parents told me that what had happened to her was worse than death, and so I pictured her as dead. The next time the women came, my parents hid me in the cellar, and I heard the screams and even though I cried, I wanted to run out and save everything. Even if it meant killing the Mord’Sith. Obviously I learned better, but if it had not been for them, I might never have joined the resistance.”
Kahlan, who had shivered for a moment on thinking about the Mord’Sith and picturing Denna, looked at Cara again. “You killed in the resistance?”
Cara turned to her in surprise, eyes wide. “Oh no. But if they’d gone after my family—I think I might have.” She sighed, almost frustrated.
“Ah.” Kahlan didn’t say anything for a few more seconds.
“I just never thought it’d be like this,” Cara said just under her breath, rolling out her bedroll on the forest floor as they stopped.
Kahlan put a hand on her shoulder as she passed by, murmuring, “Neither did I.” Death should never be anyone’s companion, looking over their shoulder. She could only hope that enough fighting, enough questing, would drive it back.
In the night, with the moonbeams dancing through the trees overhead, Kahlan curled onto her side and saw Cara doing the same, both of them with their backs facing away from each other. Losing everything else, being left with only their shared mission, it was making the world feel claustrophobic around them.
Kahlan knew that somewhere out there, Dennee would be worried sick for her, Darken Rahl was on the prowl, and the Keeper was starting to wage war. Cara’s children and her sister probably feared that she was dead, and if her parents were still living, they might as well, not connecting the news of the new Seeker with their daughter. But Kahlan and Cara, they’d left that behind, and for the same reasons they had looked to each other for distraction. They’d let the world shrink to include only them and their mission, and it was working.
Chapter 4
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Characters/Pairing: Cara, Kahlan (pre-Cara/Kahlan)
Chapter Rating: PG
Chapter Length: 5141
Chapter Summary: With the Boxes of Orden destroyed, the world is hardly fully safe—the Mother Confessor and the Seeker have to set out together, no matter what conflicts rage inside.
(Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2)
Chapter 3
It was like chopping off a chicken’s head, breaking the boxes of Orden. That’s what she told herself. Cara hardly felt in her own body as she sent the Sword of Truth crashing into them and felt the magic barrel outwards in a flash that destroyed her vision for a few seconds before she saw the crumbled blackened shards. It was just like farm life, wasn’t it. The earth trembled, and she could almost feel a shift as if the cracking of some barrier before Shota came forward, satisfaction mingling with worry in her eyes.
“This is just the first step,” the older woman said, putting her hands on Cara’s around the hilt of the Sword as if she was a mother passing on a legacy to her child. Cara thought, still a little detached, that it was all just that ordinary. Shota’s eyes shone with sharp purpose as she continued, “All the Keeper’s might will now be focused on taking advantage of the magical damage, but before he can move far you will already be on your way to finding the Stone of Tears. And if nothing else, Zedd left behind some starting points. You are the Seeker, Cara—you alone, with Kahlan as your Confessor, can do this.”
Cara stared, almost blankly, before asking, “You’re staying behind?”
“Believe me, my skills are better off in the realm of seeking knowledge, not peril,” Shota said with a grave look. “But you—time bears down on the two of you, and you must make your move. Don’t forget that Darken Rahl will know of this as well.”
For a moment, Cara itched to put an iron halt to everything before it began. She could put the Sword down, run, trust that Shota could not force her to do this, and the Mother Confessor would not. But she could be right. Looking into Shota’s eyes was like the first step into a library, seeing how much knowledge is there and not knowing what exactly it is, but knowing that somewhere among the dusty pages will be an answer. Cara felt that in this case, the answer was deadly serious, perhaps even prophetic. She thought about asking Shota if there was a prophecy concerning her, but bit her tongue instead. She’d never put stock in prophecies—either you did something, or you didn’t, and the only thing to blame or praise was choice. And she didn’t want to know in any case. She couldn’t; her entire world was a fresh wound, throbbing, and each pulse of pain reminded her that it was self-inflicted.
Cara sheathed the Sword of Truth across her back just like any ordinary tool, ignoring the pattering of her heart as she walked away. Shota had found trousers and a long leather tunic for her, the latter buckling up the sides in a compact, protective way, fitting snugly with a comfortable weight to the flaps descending from the waist. The soft brown boots, lacing up past her knees, made her stride with longer steps, and the twist of her hair away from her face made her hold her head high. In her mind, though, she was behind a wall of stubborn denial and this was just a part of life, something she would adapt to before moving on with things as normal. Always, she had to adapt.
Kahlan Amnell, Mother Confessor, now Cara’s Confessor, sat by herself among the tree-shadows in her travel leathers, green fabric cowled around her neck and wrapping her armored curves in something more regal. Even softened by the natural light and garments, she seemed like a stone statue—spiritless. She hadn’t spoken since she’d witnessed Cara being named Seeker within the ring of fire, when the tingling ribbon of magic traveled from the Sword to Cara to take permanent dwelling in a flash of lightning that made her feel almost sick.
Now her stomach twisted in a devil’s knot as Cara grimaced and approached the other woman. Fear, reserve, guilt, all of it hit her hard. When she was a child, she’d been shy, caring for people but only showing it when they approached her. Loss, and the constant fear and protection of her parents in her formative years, had stripped some of it away, as she’d felt the need to cling to what she wanted if she was to keep it from being stolen. And her first pregnancy, followed by a quick marriage of stability, had expunged the universal caring. She only cared for a few now, and was cautious about the rest of the world. But she still wanted to do everything right—she wanted to make everyone right. Even this deadly important woman whom she did not know, and whom she felt conflicted about knowing any further.
Cara Mason felt like an impostor in these clothes with a sword swinging against her back with every step. Standing a few feet away, uncomfortable and deep-down a little terrified still, she knew she was supposed to tell Kahlan that they had a mission to attend to. As laughably too-epic as it was. But she couldn’t. She stood stricken.
Then Kahlan’s shoulders trembled with an exhale that was more than a sigh. Even with her back to Cara, Kahlan’s hands were clearly visible in her lap, clenching and unclenching with hopeless repetition. It was random enough to spark a wave of yearning for her children to sweep over Cara, making the emptiness in her arms something that she would give anything to have filled. She pushed forward, taking steps even as she steeled herself to stop short of embarrassing forwardness.
“Mother Confessor?” she asked in a low voice, dropping gently to one knee among the twigs and putting her hand to Kahlan’s knee as she sat.
The dark-haired woman breathed in quickly, and raised her hand to her nose as if to cover a sniffle. “I know,” she said, emotion ragged in her voice, “we have to go, I just—”
This close, Cara could see the tear streaks on her face, freckles all the more obvious in her pallor. The wall around Cara’s heart cracked at the sight of sorrow, and for a moment she let missing her children fall aside because Kahlan was just like them. Unthinking, she swallowed the lump in her throat and put a hand to Kahlan’s shoulder, stroking her grief-tensed muscles. “He’s gone,” she said.
With a half-choking breath, Kahlan turned instinctively into her arm, resting her face in the crook of Cara’s neck. They shouldn’t be this vulnerable so soon, but then again, neither should the world around them fail them so. Cara forgot that she was almost a stranger, and that touch was to be carefully handled in any case, and just wrapped her arms around Kahlan to hold her while she hung in the grip of grief so unadulterated that it might as well be childlike. Kahlan’s arm clung to her, wrapping around Cara for comfort until finally resting on the Sword still strapped to Cara’s back. She flinched at the touch, and then crumbled further into Cara’s arms.
For a minute Cara just shut her eyes and held Kahlan close. For a minute Kahlan rested in her arms as if there was nowhere else she could be.
Then, as Cara instinctively knew would happen, Kahlan pulled herself slowly away. Drawing herself up, even as her hand lingered on the Sword, she swallowed and turned steady eyes to Cara’s. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I will be fine.”
There was nothing to say, so Cara just nodded with pursed lips.
Kahlan glanced down for a second, and then back up. “You survived this; I’m sure that I can manage half as well,” she said as she pulled herself to her feet.
Cara rose, glancing up at her eyes. She didn’t bring up the fact that she’d only married her husband with little more than liking and a stubborn desire to not face parenthood alone. There had been love between them of course, as the years passed and they grew closer with their children and the shared resistance. But even though it had begun with heady attraction, the relationship had never shaken Cara’s foundations. Her grief at his death had been quietly borne as it slowly and steadily faded.
“I did not tell her,” she said finally, indicating Shota with a tip of her head, “but for all that I am the Seeker, I don’t know what the next step is.”
With a flicker, the aura of collectedness returned around Kahlan, enough that she smiled through lingering tears as she stood firm. “I know enough to get us to the first stop.”
“Good,” Cara said, even though as soon as the word came out she flinched at the lameness.
Kahlan just sighed, holding herself incrementally more upright with each second. “The horses and provisions are ready?”
Cara nodded. Kahlan nodded back, and without a further word began walking away.
Yet this time, Cara knew for sure that it was not an ordinary task. They were not just riding to another province on a social errand, they were riding out to save the world. She shivered, again feeling like an impostor in this position. But it had to be done. They had to do it. So she had to try not to regret it.
*
The broken bits of Kahlan’s heart seemed to rattle around her ribcage, echoing the dull emptiness there. Her mind still worked fully, and she knew exactly what needed to be done, and knew furthermore that nothing else but her mind was needed. But she ached. Spirits, how she ached.
If anything, though, Cara’s slight awkwardness towards her helped. It was distracting, and the other woman seemed to know it and not care, or at least not care more than she cared about her own self-doubt. Each time Cara threw a skeptical look, pressing her full lips tightly together, Kahlan had to wonder how much she was telling. She’d seemed so soft on that first day, and this emotional armor had to be more fragile than she wanted Kahlan to believe.
“Have you ever been this far away from home?” Kahlan tried breaking the ice again, as they set up a straightforward campsite a day’s ride from the Abbey of Ulrich.
Cara frowned. “No. Why would I? All my family was in Stowcroft.”
“I’m sorry,” Kahlan answered instinctively.
“There’s no need to talk about it,” Cara said, lips twisting as she loosened the Sword’s sheath from her back to sit down, brushing stray hair back from her face.
But despite her reticence to cause emotional pain, Kahlan couldn’t stop the words from leaving her mouth, with a mask over the grief she wouldn’t let herself indulge in any longer. “My family has always been on the move. After me and my sister escaped our father, we’ve been separated almost half our time. I thought I lost her two years ago, but after the failed attack on Valleria she returned to Aydindril with me to help me restore rule. She’s there now.”
Cara didn’t pull back, at least not in words. “I always lived near my sister.”
Kahlan didn’t continue after that, reading in Cara the desire to aid Kahlan with words warring with the desire to forget everything she was abandoning from her hometown. She let the night fall silently around them for a while, wrapping them in cool darkness. That Cara wanted to help her, even if it spoke more of Cara’s nature than anything particular to Kahlan, made Kahlan’s heart throb a little less painfully.
But when her eyes fell shut for a second the smell of the campfire reminded her of a journey, over a year ago now, with a wizard and a Seeker who were both now dead. She jerked away, but it was more like a tremor, and she swallowed twice to clear the tightness in her throat. Cara sat across from her and noticed the shiver, and added wood to the fire. Kahlan couldn’t bring herself to explain the true reason, though—it was as if grief had jumbled all her words together, and they came out muddled.
“This doesn’t feel real,” she said.
Cara jabbed a stick into the fire, making it flare up and making her eyes shine. “Don’t question that,” she said under her breath. “Not again.”
“I’m not,” Kahlan said, looking at her and wondering if Cara knew how close Kahlan felt to her, just through reading. Despite the defensive walls, Kahlan felt Cara’s essence like clear water in a desert, now lit with the warmth of magic. She’d been feeling that essence for days now, and it was familiar, but without that power surely Cara would not understand Kahlan at all. Had Kahlan been more in control of herself, she wouldn’t have jumped straight into the middle of things. “Zedd spoke before, he sounded so sure of reality. More sure than I think I’ve ever been of anything. And yet, he said that in that world I'd lost my sister. He wouldn’t say how, but...” Kahlan closed her eyes for a second.
Cara didn’t answer, and so Kahlan’s words kept spilling out, filling the emptiness. “I don’t see how he could just accept a world like that. I can’t even imagine it. And he said you traveled with us, were a close friend, and I can’t imagine that. But today—I almost wanted something that inexplicable.”
The other woman shifted, not saying anything for a moment.
Guilt struck Kahlan as she realized seconds too late what she’d said. “I know that the wish isn’t wise. If I give any thought to it, I see how terrible such a selfish change would be. So many lives different, not by their choice. And you—I’m sure you can’t even imagine a world where you had no children.”
But Cara looked up at her then, with a clarity in her expression that was both hurt and amused. “Yes, I can.” The two emotions twisted, and the hurt squashed the amusement down. She dropped her eyes, jaw tight, as she said, “My children are very dear to me, but I did not spend my childhood imagining the life I had. It just happened. Just like this has. Life is inexplicable, always, and you have to accept that, love it.”
Kahlan swallowed again. “I know,” she said softly. But she still wanted it to go as planned. She still wanted to feel control, or at the very least that it was all meant to be. Right now, full of turmoil, she doubted her own past self, and wondered if she’d just hoped that she and Richard were destined instead of actually believing it. Then she thrust it out of the way, swallowing the harsh lump in her throat. “Tomorrow you should start training, before we reach the Abbey,” she said aloud, and almost surprised herself with the auditory collectedness.
“Training?” Cara sounded equally caught off guard for once out of all their—granted, few—conversations.
“The Sword’s magic will only carry so far,” Kahlan said, though not quite looking up and letting the low flames warm her hands and face too much. “And even though you were a teacher, the skills you learned on your farm will...it will be the same kind of...” Her throat gave out again, freezing up on her as memories of her very first days with a Seeker threatened to strike, but she forced her eyes up.
Cara’s gaze held hers for a moment, then dropped as she said, “This will be a short mission if we hurry; I don’t want to waste time with training.”
Kahlan shook her head, clearing her throat and mind again. It was getting easier with practice. “Your life is more important than mine right now, with finding that compass. You should train if only to give yourself protection.”
Cara let out one long breath, making it plain that she wasn’t going to protest.
The next day, as the sun rolled across the sky, Kahlan flung all the fighting knowledge she had at Cara. Her muscles became fluid, and the slight adrenaline felt good, much better than the tension of riding and grief alike. Cara wasn’t as easily affected—the woman’s movements were stiff and stilted at first, as expected, though the harder Kahlan pushed, the more she thought that maybe it was Cara’s mind that was stopping her from getting in touch with the magic of the Sword.
It was backward, when compared with Kahlan’s own state. Without saying a word, Kahlan let her heart free to pull Cara’s into the open. Spinning faster than Cara could wield the Sword of Truth, Kahlan let her daggers flash, striking this way and that until Cara’s eyes widened in anticipation of failure, even as she blocked hard and sharply. Hoping for Cara’s frustration to give her the agility she didn’t think she had, Kahlan told herself that it was the only reason she was putting so much emotion into this. Nothing about maybe wondering why this woman had to be more important than Richard. Of course not.
Kahlan let loose, finally pressing in until she held her hand against Cara’s bare throat. She felt her eyes narrow in on Cara, but in the woman’s green eyes she saw a burn behind the desperation. “Again,” Kahlan said in a whisper, harsh with her breathlessness.
Cara fought back, and yet Kahlan only half-cared that she was better now that she had stopped overthinking. She realized that none of it was about Cara anymore when Cara knocked her daggers out of the way and elbowed Kahlan’s arm aside, bringing the swordhilt up to Kahlan’s cheek and only stopping just short of knocking her down.
“You’re going easy on me?” the blonde demanded, soft hurt looking dark in her eyes and breathing heavy in her chest.
Kahlan swallowed, and lowered her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m distracted,” she said, taking a deep breath and reaching down to sheathe her knives in her boots again, feeling a quiver. “You’re doing well, though.”
“Mother Confessor,” Cara called after Kahlan had turned away towards the open green field.
She paused, not liking the way the weaker emotions still tugged on her heart, even though she’d given reckless permission.
“I don’t want to be trained by someone I don’t know,” Cara said shortly.
Kahlan turned slowly again, looking back at her. The woman—the Seeker—stood with shoulders slightly hunched, as if denying herself the talent she’d shown in the training, above and beyond what the Sword imbued. But she was just a woman as well, full of feelings that she was trying to control for the sake of this mission. Like Kahlan. Her spirit, with its true concern for Kahlan, shouldn’t be denied. For the sake of many things, but also because Kahlan didn’t want to deny it.
Feeling her face soften a little, she said, “You can call me Kahlan.”
Cara didn’t say anything, just nodded. “I’m sure I can work just fine if you need a break,” she added after a second, with a glance up at Kahlan as she adjusted the Sword in her grasp. “Kahlan.”
Kahlan let her eyes glance towards their campsite in the field, then up at the not-yet-setting sun. She breathed in the warm evening scent, letting it cleanse her lungs a little. There was nowhere else more helpful than here. “No, I’m not leaving yet,” she said, drawing her knives again. “We’ll make this work for you, Cara. And then whatever happens tomorrow, you’ll be safer.”
“So you hope,” Cara said under her breath as Kahlan started the forms again, daggers spinning in a familiar rhythm.
But Kahlan hoped many things, and was sure of none of them.
*
“If the Abbey was burned down last year, what makes you think we can still find the amulet?” Cara asked as they slowed their horses to cross the stream.
“Cara, that’s our only chance at getting the Stone.” Before Cara could respond with the point that she knew no fact better, Kahlan continued, “And Richard ordered all the D’Haran death camps to be disbanded, and their goods stored to be distributed later. We’ll find it.”
Glancing quickly to Kahlan, Cara wondered if she realized that despite her harsh tone of stubbornness, she’d said Richard’s name without faltering. Cara saw a different woman than the one she’d met five days ago: Hands firm on the reins, eyes burning ahead as she bent over to ride faster now, harder but not brittle. There was great strength of her heart, to already be healing like this, even if scars would likely remain with her for life.
Cara kept her attention on Kahlan, since she was not only the most intriguing, but the most distracting. The Confessor was a mystery in many ways, and Cara held onto that idea to keep the gritty reality of herself from weighing down. Even if every night she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, as if she might hug tightly enough to feel her children again. She wanted and feared the distraction, and so in a way, she wanted and feared to watch Kahlan as this journey shaped her. And she didn’t think about how it was shaping herself.
They stopped at the gates of the town, checking for signs of Darken Rahl and his D’Harans or Mord’Sith. None seemed present, and this town was far from the People’s Palace. Kahlan decided to have them ride openly in, the Sword of Truth clearly visible hanging from Cara’s back.
For the first time in her life, Cara saw surprised faces and joyous faces and skeptical faces all at once. This was nothing like her schoolchildren’s parents. When Kahlan announced her as a Seeker and asked for the villagers’ aid in finding the amulet from Ulrich, the boy who offered to clean her horse was not looking for special grades in return. Cara just stared at the awe on his face for a minute, and then, embarrassed and peeved, wanted to tell him that his mother was probably more a hero than she ever would be.
“Do they have it?” she asked Kahlan, once she’d pulled away, brushing at her cheeks as if that would eliminate the flush.
The relief on the Confessor’s face was answer enough. When she opened the silver locket, and the ink spilled out onto her hand in a magic rune, Cara was a bit glad that it wasn’t her hand—she had enough responsibility.
“Seeker, is it true that Darken Rahl has no powers now?” asked a village woman as Cara mounted her horse to ride out with Kahlan.
Cara stared down at her, frozen. “I don’t know anything.”
“He still has his Rahl magic,” Kahlan said as she rode up next to Cara, taking the question. “But nothing beyond that you will still be able to fight against him, if he tries to gain control over this village again.”
With that, they spurred their way off away and towards the tomb that would give them the compass.
“If you speak so ill of yourself, you’ll believe it,” Kahlan said quietly a little later, without looking from where she was riding.
Cara didn’t tell Kahlan that, under the awkwardness, that was the point. A part of her feared that this role might grow into her skin until she forgot all the mistakes she’d made for the sake of the world.
“I don’t believe it,” Kahlan added then. “We were all right to seek you out.”
Cara looked up, caught her eyes for a second before pulling away. The remark shouldn’t have eased any of her guilt—but it did, a little. “I haven’t failed yet, but...”
“No buts,” Kahlan said, quick and firm.
Cara kept riding, her hair tossed to the wind behind her, the light mirror of Kahlan’s flying dark locks. It struck her that maybe Kahlan was recovering from her torment already, accepting her shattered world as fixable and leaving Cara alone mired in conflict of spirit. It should have been the other way around, she thought, though only for a second. She set her mouth in a straight line and vowed to press on. If she could just seize victory for this mission, she might repay the damages she’d caused her family.
And if anyone was going to be at her side, see her at her worst like this, torn between two loyalties—well, at least it was someone whose judgment she was growing to trust.
*
“This is insane,” Cara whispered, eyes wide as they looked at the eight guards surrounding the tomb of Pomorra.
Kahlan had a hand on her shoulder as they crouched in the bushes. “The Sword is designed to help you succeed against impossible odds. You’ve been training for over a week, and even against me, someone you know is not your enemy, you are getting proficient.”
Cara shook her head. “I—”
It was a low blow, but Kahlan knew the woman needed the push, and so she said, “It’s our duty to try.”
Cara kept her eyes on the guards and their crossbows, but her hand gripped around her knee, knuckles sharp in the moonlight. “Fine,” she said, voice scarcely wavering.
Kahlan put a hand to her back, not wishing her luck because she knew Cara would wrongly feel that she needed it. Perhaps it was emotionally driven, as everything she did these days seemed to be, but she trusted Cara, more than the woman would probably ever trust herself. Days of riding, sleeping, hunting, cooking, cleaning gear and clothes alike...Cara could clearly handle everything she thought she could, and probably half a dozen things she was unsure about. There was a competence in her born of a stubborn need not to fail. It was different for a Seeker, as far as Kahlan’s experience went, and so she cherished it as she managed her grief.
Taking in a deep breath, she cast one final glance to see if Cara was ready. The Sword of Truth was drawn, and so with a confident cry, Kahlan charged in, daggers flying. She kicked up the first crossbow aimed, ducking and spinning under the next to grab the soldier by the throat. Behind him, as he fell, she saw the curving silver arc of Cara’s strike, but Kahlan was already turning, reaching down to yank her dagger from a corpse before driving it through the heart of another one of Darken Rahl’s former minions.
With a grunting cry, Cara finished off the last soldier, and leaned forward on the sword for a moment.
“We are alive,” Kahlan pointed out.
“I didn’t think death would ever become like this,” Cara muttered, tugging the Sword loose and leaning down to clean it, almost gingerly.
But the mission called, and Kahlan took a deep breath as she stood before the tomb. Hand raised, she felt a rush of relief when the doors parted, and yet another step was accomplished. Another amulet-like device sat on a shelf, silver marked with ancient runes, and Kahlan reached in to take it. When Cara came cautiously up behind her, Kahlan turned, swallowing the lump in her throat. “This is what Zedd spoke of, the compass that will guide the Seeker to the Stone.”
Cara nodded shortly. “We’re not doomed yet.” Biting the inside of her lip, she accepted the compass in her hand. It opened, and a blue glow illuminated her face with a musical hum. “So I am the Seeker after all,” she said dryly.
“Of course you are,” Kahlan said. The more the days passed, the more successfully she avoided thinking about Richard with that word. She was the Mother Confessor—and in a strange way, her duty to the Seeker, no matter who, was helping to quietly heal her heart.
The two of them returned to the glade that would work as a camp site, leaving the battlefield behind. And thinking of that for a moment as they walked in the dark, Kahlan glanced at Cara. “What did you mean when you said that about death?”
Cara’s brow creased in confusion, and she moved in silence for a few paces more before saying, “I never thought I’d kill anyone. When I was a child, I even protected animals.”
Kahlan nodded. A part of her wished that her childhood had been so innocent.
“Then, when I was twelve...” Cara continued, not meeting Kahlan’s eyes, “my—Dahlia—she and I, we always played in the field except that day, when women in red leather came and took her away. I didn’t understand. My parents told me that what had happened to her was worse than death, and so I pictured her as dead. The next time the women came, my parents hid me in the cellar, and I heard the screams and even though I cried, I wanted to run out and save everything. Even if it meant killing the Mord’Sith. Obviously I learned better, but if it had not been for them, I might never have joined the resistance.”
Kahlan, who had shivered for a moment on thinking about the Mord’Sith and picturing Denna, looked at Cara again. “You killed in the resistance?”
Cara turned to her in surprise, eyes wide. “Oh no. But if they’d gone after my family—I think I might have.” She sighed, almost frustrated.
“Ah.” Kahlan didn’t say anything for a few more seconds.
“I just never thought it’d be like this,” Cara said just under her breath, rolling out her bedroll on the forest floor as they stopped.
Kahlan put a hand on her shoulder as she passed by, murmuring, “Neither did I.” Death should never be anyone’s companion, looking over their shoulder. She could only hope that enough fighting, enough questing, would drive it back.
In the night, with the moonbeams dancing through the trees overhead, Kahlan curled onto her side and saw Cara doing the same, both of them with their backs facing away from each other. Losing everything else, being left with only their shared mission, it was making the world feel claustrophobic around them.
Kahlan knew that somewhere out there, Dennee would be worried sick for her, Darken Rahl was on the prowl, and the Keeper was starting to wage war. Cara’s children and her sister probably feared that she was dead, and if her parents were still living, they might as well, not connecting the news of the new Seeker with their daughter. But Kahlan and Cara, they’d left that behind, and for the same reasons they had looked to each other for distraction. They’d let the world shrink to include only them and their mission, and it was working.
Chapter 4
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