Severed Souls(36)

When his fingers formed around the hilt, gripping it, she could see that something changed in him. He drew an even deeper breath.

When his eyes opened, they were filled with the magic from the sword, its power feeding strength into him.

Richard was the true Seeker, and the sword was bonded to him in every way. It responded to his touch in a way it responded to no other; it recognized its master.

“There is no time to lose,” Richard said. “We have to act quickly. Where’s the commander?”

Kahlan frowned and leaned in a little. “No time to lose? What do you mean?”

“Fister. Where’s Commander Fister?” The anger of the sword was now clearly powering his voice. “I need him.”

Kahlan didn’t know what Richard could be thinking, or if he really was thinking. It was possible that in the semiconscious state he was in, drifting in and out of comprehension of what was going on around him, he was having some kind of dream or delusion and it was purely the anger from the sword enabling him to voice those delusions.

Rather than question him, Kahlan turned to the scene of the fighting. She saw the big man not far away.

“Commander! Commander! We need you!”

When he heard Kahlan calling for him, he turned from angrily hacking a Shun-tuk to pieces. Almost immediately another half person rammed a shoulder into the commander’s side, attempting to tackle him and take him down. The crusty, chalky figure might as well have tried to topple an oak tree. The big commander casually put a headlock on the man and twisted. Kahlan heard tendons pop and bone crack. Commander Fister let the limp form drop in a heap. On his way toward Kahlan, without pause, he smashed the heavy pommel of his sword into the face of another Shun-tuk racing in toward him.

When there was a heavy clash at the perimeter defenses, the struggle of holding the weight of the enemy back allowed others the opportunity to slip by. It was not a planned, coordinated tactic, but rather individuals seeing an opening created by others and taking advantage of the opportunity.

All of the half people were ultimately out after souls for themselves, not dedicated to winning battles. In a way, that made them easier to fight, because they didn’t coordinate their attacks or make skillful, strategic moves, but at the same time it made them as unpredictable as a cloud of blood flies. They randomly came in from every direction, each interested only in biting and getting at your blood.

Kahlan saw the ghostly figures of Shun-tuk stalking through the camp, trying to stay hidden in the shadows as they hunted for an opportunity to catch a soldier unaware. Whenever they were spotted by soldiers of the First File they were swiftly cut to pieces, but the fact that they were getting into the camp at all was a very bad sign. You never wanted to let an enemy flank you and get in behind to attack from the rear while you fought the enemy in front.

Commander Fister raced in close and went to one knee beside Richard, across from Kahlan. With the help of the power from his hand on the sword, Richard sat partway up, propping himself on his other elbow, and seized the edge of the commander’s leather armor chest plate to pull him closer.

“Listen to me, this is what they have been waiting for—for the sickness to weaken me and put me down. They have been waiting for this opportunity to attack. Without me helping, they are going to overrun us like they did to you before.”

“No, Lord Rahl, I won’t let—”

“You weren’t able to stop them before, when you were captured, were you?”

The commander grudgingly shook his head.

“You have fewer men this time,” Richard said. “A great many were lost in that battle, and more yet while you were being held captive. The numbers you started with have dwindled dangerously low. We couldn’t fight them off before with all the men, so how do you expect that we will be able to fight them off this time, using the same tactics, but with even fewer men?

“We will lose such a fight—that’s why they are pressing us into it. They are making the rules and we are obliging them. They waited until I was weak and down, and then they attacked the rest of you. That’s their way: simple, brutal, and effective.

“We have to change the rules or we are going to lose.”

Commander Fister shared a look with Kahlan and then looked back at Richard. “I understand what you’re saying, Lord Rahl, and I’ve had the same worry, but I don’t know what we can do about it. We fight or we die. That’s the only way for us to survive—fight or die. There is no way to change that rule.”

Richard was shaking his head. “They’re fixated on me. We need to use that against them.”

The commander wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand holding a bloody sword. He stole a worried look over at the battle before once again looking back at Richard.