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“Jit’s familiars used branches and vines to tie me into the walls. They’re full of thorns.” Henrik pointed back into the tunnel. “The Mother Confessor came and saved me. She got me out. I told her to run, but I think maybe they got her.”
Richard’s mind raced, trying to understand what was happening as he tried to decide what to do. He had to get in there and help Kahlan, but he also knew that the Hedge Maid would be waiting for anyone walking into her lair. He couldn’t help Kahlan if he was captured as well.
Richard seized Henrik by the shoulders. “Will you do something for me?”
The boy wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “What?”
“Some other people will be coming this way. I need you to go to them and tell them—”
“But the hounds will get me!”
“The hounds?”
“The hounds that chased me here. They were after me, when I was at the palace with my mother. They came after me and I ran. I had to get away. I had to. The Mother Confessor said that they chased her here, too.”
Richard was beginning to understand. He shook his head.
“No, it only seemed that way to you. They weren’t real. It was some kind of magic that the Hedge Maid used to get you to come here. You scratched us, remember?”
Henrik nodded. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help myself.”
“I know. I understand. You visited the Hedge Maid before, when you were sick. Your mother brought you here. I think the Hedge Maid used some kind of magic to make you scratch us. Then you came back here afterward, right? The dogs chased you here.”
Henrik nodded again. “That’s right. The Hedge Maid took the skin from under my fingernails, from where I scratched you both, and used it with her magic, but she could only find some of it from the Mother Confessor. There was none from where I scratched you left by the time I got here.”
Richard was getting the picture. “Listen, no dogs are chasing you. It’s just a trick to get you to come back here. I don’t think you will see them again, not now that you came here. The Hedge Maid has no reason to chase you here anymore.”
Henrik looked skeptical. “If you say so, Lord Rahl.”
“You need to believe me. I know I’m right. Now, this is very important. I need you to go back the way you came and find my friends who are coming this way. I need you to bring them here. I’m going in there to get Kahlan out. But I’m going to need the help of my friends when I come out. I need you to tell my friends where I am and get them here right away. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Lord Rahl. I’ll do it. Will you forgive me then, for what I did to you and the Mother Confessor?”
“Of course. It wasn’t your fault. You were being used by an evil person. Now, hurry and get going. There isn’t a moment to lose.”
Henrik nodded and raced away back down the woven walk-way.
Richard stood and looked at the structure.
And then he started climbing up onto the top of it.
CHAPTER 82
Crouched low, Richard made his way along the top of the complex that had been constructed entirely of woven branches and vines. Fortunately, it seemed to be strong enough to hold his weight without sagging and was solid enough that it didn’t flex and creak when he moved across it. The drizzle was making it slippery, though. Worse, the drizzle made places where moss and mold grew as slick as ice. Fortunately, the rough, jagged nature of the branches provided some grip for his boots.
The woven structure was surprisingly large, in places sprawling out through the swamp in several directions, with clusters of larger sections. His problem was to try to figure out where Kahlan was inside the maze of rooms and corridors. He had to get it right the first time. He doubted that once it started he would have a second chance to get her out.
All around, smooth-barked trees stood in the murky water on fat, spreading tangles of roots. Their wide-spreading branches held veils of gray-green moss. The water around the trees was in places covered with a thick layer of floating duckweed, making it look like a carpet of lawn. Richard knew that beneath it creatures lurked in the murky depths waiting for the unwary.
In places the structure made of the branches and vines was attached to the massive trees for stability and support. So many of the thick, stiff vines hung down from the trees that in spots Richard had difficulty getting through them. In other places he had to duck under low branches. In yet other places he had to brush thick webs of moss out of his way.
He wanted to go faster, but as he made his way across the slippery top of the structure he needed to be as quiet as possible so as not to alert anyone down inside.
Out in the swamp, the sharp calls of animals echoed across the stretches of dark water. When he glanced over the sloping side of the structure and saw shadows moving beneath the muddy water, Richard reminded himself to be careful. If the fall didn’t kill him, something else likely would. In other places, long-legged white egrets stood on roots waiting for unwary fish to pass by. From below the water, other things hunted the egrets. As he moved ahead, he had to carefully skirt a poisonous yellow-and-red-banded snake lying over a branch hanging down in his way.
Richard stopped still, listening. In a pause between the hoots, chirps, and calls of animals out in the swamp, he thought he heard chanting. He squatted down, putting one hand to the roof for balance as he leaned forward and listened. Even though he couldn’t make out any words he recognized, he was sure that it was some kind of shouting and chanting. It was hard to tell exactly where it was coming from. The strange sounds were unlike anything he had ever heard before.
As he crouched down lower, looking under wispy curtains of moss, Richard spotted what looked like trailers of fog. He thought that it could possibly be smoke. He moved ahead past the moss to get a better look and saw that it was definitely smoke. It wasn’t billowing smoke, like that from a fire, but rather thin wisps of whitish smoke, possibly the kind used in certain mystic rituals.
As Richard got closer, he could smell the acrid smoke. It was laced with the stink of something dead.
When he reached the broad area where he’d spotted it, there was no chimney. The smoke simply seeped right up through the weaving of branches. He was able to hear the crazy chanting, thumping, and carrying-on right underneath him.
Richard slowly, carefully, as quietly as he could, drew his sword. He didn’t think they would be able to hear him over all the noise below, but he wasn’t taking any chances. The steel hissed softly as it came out into the gloom.
He’d already decided, from everything he knew, that nothing going on below him could be anything good. He knew that Henrik had been drawn to this place after having been sent to retrieve Richard’s and Kahlan’s flesh, and when he escaped he was covered in blood. He knew that Kahlan, through some kind of occult conjuring surrounding the flesh that Henrik had brought back to the Hedge Maid, had also been compelled to come to this place.
He had no illusions. This was going to be a fight to the death.
The sword’s rage stormed through him, mixing with his own anger at Kahlan being taken prisoner. He wasn’t even sure that she was still alive. It was all he could do to control the fury pounding through his veins and focus on what he needed to do.
Richard remembered all too well Nicci’s warnings about Hedge Maids. She’d said that he had no defense against their powers. That meant that his sword would not work against her. He’d had that experience before, so he took Nicci’s warning seriously.
There wasn’t a lot that could be done about it now, though. He had no choice and no time to get help. He had to act.
But Nicci’s warning didn’t mean his sword wouldn’t work against others, and he could hear a lot of others below him.
His only chance was surprise, swiftness of action, and violence.
Richard drew the blade across the inside of his arm, letting it bite through his flesh to have a taste of blood. A crimson drop ran down the fuller and dripped off the tip.
Richard l
ifted the blade stained with blood and touched it to his forehead.
“Blade, be true this day,” he whispered.
Richard knew that he had to be fast. With all his fury and strength, he lifted the sword overhead, pausing for only an instant, and then swept it down between his wide-spread legs, slicing through the web of woven branches, sticks, and vines.
The sound of it parting the thick mat of woven material ripped the heavy air of the swamp.
He drew his fists in tight to his chest, held the sword upright, put his legs together, and dropped down through the raw opening.
He landed in the heart of madness.
CHAPTER 83
