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Severed Souls(172)

By:Terry Goodkind


Richard shot through that dark tangle of wings and reached Kahlan, embraced her, joining with her soul to do what he needed to do.

In that instant, for a glorious, singular spark in time, he joined with his soul mate and they were one.

He knew that that brief, singular connection when they were alone and together in the darkness would have to last him—would have to last both of them—for eternity.

And yet in the underworld, there was no time. He knew that in the brief spark of time when they were joined, he had forever to do what he needed to do, even if it might be only a fleeting second back in the world of life.

But here, time was his.

Once it was done, Richard used all his will to leave her and streak past the demons, running from them, drawing that overwhelming, uncontrollable, predatory need to chase. Hungry for his soul, driven to chase, they all turned and then suddenly swept through the darkness to go after him.

They drew ever closer as he streaked away. Black fangs glistened in the darkness as they growled and snapped at him, eager, hungry for his soul. Richard let their claws hook into him, sinking ever deeper so they could pull him in until they were close enough for their black wings to wrap around him and capture him. Even as they did, he let the rage power him so that he could keep racing away from Kahlan’s spirit, keep their fury and their attention on him.

And then, claws firmly gripping him, wings enfolding him, the dark ones dragged him downward, tumbling ever downward with him, suffocating the light of his soul.

But in doing so, in coming after him as he raced away, they had abandoned Kahlan’s spirit, her soul.

In that infinite span of time he had been with her spirit, he had accomplished what he needed to accomplish.

He had given her the chance she needed to live.

Suddenly freed from the weight of the dark demons, the light of her essence, that spirit, that soul, still carrying the buoyant spark of life from being part of the third kingdom—part of both worlds fused together—began to ascend, ever faster all the time, ever higher, escaping the forever of darkness.

Richard saw her glowing arms open, reaching for him as she was pulled ever upward toward life. She tried to reach out to touch him, to draw him to her, to bring him with her, but she no longer could because as she rose he was sinking with ever-increasing speed under the weight of the demons that had cocooned their inky black wings tightly around him.

The last thing he saw was her spark in the darkness high above him as it winked out, and then she was gone.

He was suddenly alone with the dark ones, alone with them in an eternity of blackness under the dead weight of oblivion where there was nothing, where even his soul would be crushed under the pressure of darkness until it ceased to exist.

His last thought was one of joy that he had been able to save Kahlan from that fate, that he had been able to give Kahlan the gift of her life, that he had done what he had always said he would willingly do.

He had traded his life for hers, so that she might live.

In so doing he had also been able to draw all the demons with him into the dark eternity below. They could no longer shadow her in death. When it was her time, she would rest forever in the Light.

Even as he felt his own spirit become insubstantial as it faded away into an eternity of darkness, he felt joy.

It had been worth it to him.

Kahlan would live.





CHAPTER

87

Kahlan gasped as she sat bolt upright, her eyes wide. She desperately gasped again, trying to get enough air.

Nicci cried out, jumping back as if she had seen a ghost.

Kahlan was only dimly aware of the warm colors of the strange room, the rust-colored carpeting, the heavy, blue-green fabric draped overhead and down around the bedposts. Almost her entire focus was on urgently drawing life and air into her lungs.

On desperately drawing her severed soul back into her worldly self.

None of it really made any sense. Everything was a jumble. She couldn’t quite put all the images and events together into a coherent concept.

“Kahlan!” Nicci cried out as she rushed in close to take up Kahlan’s hand. “You’re alive!”

Kahlan looked down at her own hand in Nicci’s. It did not look to her the way she thought it should look. It didn’t look like it belonged to her, or like it could possibly be hers.

It should be light, luminescent.

It should be without form. It should be insubstantial.

But this was substantial. It had form. It was not made of light. It was flesh and bone. She could feel blood pumping through her, she could feel life coursing through her, she could feel weight, touch. She could feel herself whole again.

She still gasped for air, still struggled to get enough, to catch her breath, but she was beginning to feel like she was finally getting it under control.