Chapter 40

Kahlan climbed atop a wagon before the assembled men. They stood in brown wool coats, packed tightly together before her in the gray morning light. Captain Ryan, with his two lieutenants flanking him, stood at the front of the men. He leaned an arm on the wagon wheel, waiting.

Kahlan looked out at all the young faces. Boys. She was about to ask boys to die. But what choice did she have?

Dear mother, she wondered, is this the reason you chose Wyborn as my father? To teach me what I am about to do?

“I’m afraid I have only one bit of good news for you,” she began in a quiet voice that carried through the cold air, out over the faces all watching her, “and so I will give you that first, to give you courage for the other things I have to tell you.”

Kahlan took a deep breath. “Your queen was not killed in Ebinissia, nor did the men who attacked the city find or capture her. Either she was away when the attack came, or she escaped.

“Queen Cyrilla lives.”

The boys seemed to take a deep breath, as if hoping she wouldn’t add anything more, and then they erupted in wild cheering. They threw their arms in the air, shaking their fists at the sky. They yelled and hooted with joy and relief.

Kahlan stood in her blood-soaked wolf mantle, her hands at her sides, letting them have their time of celebration and hope. Some of the boys, forgetting for the moment that they were soldiers, hugged each other. She watched tears of happiness run down many a cheek as men leapt and shouted.

Kahlan stood feeling small and insignificant as the mob of boys poured out their adoration for her half sister. She couldn’t bring herself to halt their rejoicing.

At last Captain Ryan climbed up onto the wagon next to her. He held his arms up, calling for silence.

“All right! All right! Hold it down! Stop acting like a bunch of children in front of the Mother Confessor! Show her what men you be!”

The cheering finally died out, to be replaced by grins and bright eyes. Captain Ryan clasped his hands together and cast her a somewhat sheepish look before taking a couple of steps away atop the wagon, to give her room.

The people of Ebinissia,” she went on, in the same quiet tone, “were not so fortunate.”

The winter silence became brittle. Light breezes rustled icy branches on the trees ascending the slopes to either side of the flat valley pass holding their camp. The grins withered.

“Every one of you, at the least, had friends who were murdered there. Many of you had loved ones, family, who died at the hands of the men a few hours up this pass.” Kahlan cleared her throat and swallowed as her eyes found the ground. “I, too, knew people who died there.”

Her eyes came up. “Last night, I went to their camp, to discover who they were, and if they could be called upon to return to their homelands. They have no intention of doing anything but conquering all the lands and putting them under their rule. They have vowed to kill everyone who refuses to join them. Ebinissia refused.”

The boys shouted and shook their fists. They, themselves, they said, would bring an end to the threat.

She spoke over their words, bringing them to silence as she did so. “The men who slaughtered your countrymen and countrywomen are called the Imperial Order. They fight on behalf of no country or land. They fight to conquer all lands, and to rule all lands. They answer to no government, to no king, to no lord, to no council. They believe themselves to be the fountain of law.

“They are made up of mostly D’Haran men, but others have joined them. I saw among them Keltans.”

Waves of angry whispers swept back through the crowd. Kahlan let it go on for a moment. “I saw also, among them, men from other lands. And I saw Galeans.”

This time shocked and angry voices called out that it wasn’t true, and said she was wrong.

“I saw them with my own eyes!” They fell once more to silence. She quieted her tone. “I wish that it were not true, but I saw them. Men of many lands have joined with them. More men will join with them if they believe they can be part of the victory, part of the new law, if they believe they can be in on the plunder and awarded positions of authority and power.

“The city of Cellion lies hardly more than a hand of days ahead. The Imperial Order will have their surrender and allegiance, or their death.

“Other cities, towns, villages, and farms will suffer these men if they are not stopped. Eventually, all will come under their sword. I am going to Aydindril to marshal the forces of the Midlands against the Imperial Order, but that will take time. In that time, their numbers will swell with those who would think to be on the side of might. Right now, there is no one able to stop these men from killing everyone in their path who resists them.

“Except you.”

Kahlan stiffened her back as she let what she had said sink in, and in preparation for what she was going to tell them next. She let the silence settle once more over the valley.

“As the Mother Confessor of the Midlands, and absent the luxury of conferring with the Central Council, I have had to do that which no Mother Confessor for a thousand years or more has had to do. On my authority, alone, I have committed the Midlands to war. The army of the Imperial Order is to be killed to a man. No negotiation or compromise will be offered by the Midlands. Under no circumstances will the Order’s surrender be accepted.

“I have given an oath on behalf of the Midlands that no quarter shall be granted.”

Astonished faces stared at her.

“Whether I live or die, this decree is irrevocable. Any land or people who willingly join with the Imperial Order cast their lot under the shadow of this edict.

“It is not in the name of Galea that I call upon you to fight. In the office of the Mother Confessor, I call upon you to fight for the Midlands. For it is not Galea that is under threat, but all lands, and all free people.”

There was confident grumbling that they were up to the task. Some in the ranks called out their assurance that they were the men to do it, that they were in the right, and would triumph.

Kahlan nodded to them all. “You think so? I want each of you to look to the faces around you.” They mostly stared at her. “do as I say! Look to all the faces around you! Look to your comrades!”

A little confused, they began looking around, twisting to see those to the sides and those behind, smiling and laughing among themselves, as if it were a game.

When they seemed to have finished with the task, she went on. A few of you will remember the faces you have looked upon today. Remember, and grieve. The rest, if you take up this battle, will not be around to remember. They will die in the struggle.”

In the cold silence, Kahlan heard the distant chatter of a squirrel, and then the sound of that, too, died away.

The smiles were all gone as she finally spoke again. “These men, the Imperial Order, are led by and are mostly D’Haran troops. D’Haran soldiers are trained from the time they are half your age. They fight internal conflicts in their land, put down riots and rebellions; they do not simply practice battle tactics, they live them day in and day out. They know only a life of fighting. They have been exposed to it in every form. I have taken the confessions of many D’Harans. Most do not know the meaning of peace.

“Since spring, when Darken Rahl sent them against the Midlands, they have been at what they do best: war. They have fought in battle after battle. All who have come before them have fallen.

“They relish fighting. They delight in it. They are as close to fearless as men come. They hold contests, often lethal, to win the right to be in the van of battle, to win the right to be the first to strike a blow at the enemy, to win the right to be the first to fall.”