The Aperture

Chapter 16

The First Brush with Chaos

Once inside the stables at Rahl’s small farm just outside of Roggentine, Connie ran into Yalden. He said nothing to anyone as he saddled up the hanyaks for the journey. Recalling what had happened to his wife in Zeranon, Connie spoke to him.

“I’m sorry about Jenada,” she said to him.

Yalden did not reply to her. He pulled the knot tightly on the underside of the hanyak. The hanyak, in turn, made a snorting sound and a high-pitched whinny that sounded not unlike the horses on Earth.

“Really, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“She was a lovely woman and a good wife,” he said somberly. “I shall miss her till the day I leave this world.”

Connie put his arm on his shoulder. “Sind has lost his brother too. I feel awful. We will avenge the deaths of Jenada and Kilban.”

At those words, Yalden turned to her. His green eyes burned with cold fury at the mysterious, malignant force that had taken away perhaps the only soul he loved more dearly than his own life.

“Yes. We will avenge them. By the blood of the gods, we will certainly avenge them.”

The hanyaks were now saddled up, and the packs on the baraks bulged with fresh supplies of food and water. When they left Calicus’ residence, they were ten strong.

Connie felt the strange tension in the air as the party passed down the crowded streets to the Roggentine city gates. There seemed to be a hush over the throng. Word of the carnage at Castle Maray had evidently spread, creating a pall in the city.

Just outside the gates, an army was assembling to conquer the foe. Connie watched them mount their steeds. Shiny armor and weapons glinting in the sun. And now there were glorious green standards with a black cross.

Once they had left the city of Roggentine proper, one of the soldiers she had seen at Calicus’s place rode up to Connie.

“The name is Maltokken, good lady,” he said to her. “I am a sergeant in the Roggentine militia.

“Connie Bain,” she replied simply.

This man had a wiry blackish-green beard, black eyes, and a large, Romanesque nose. Connie saw he was a prepossessing man beneath his breastplate and splint armor that seemed made of some black, chitinous material held together by silver metal. He kept a huge sword in a sheath in the saddle of his hanyak. His voice was deep, and it had a hard, raspy edge to it. Worst of all, his hanyak smelled badly—or he did—or maybe both of them did. She wasn’t sure. Connie was dismayed to realize the chemistry of this world allowed for such an intense body odor.

“You came rather late to the meeting this morning,” he said, eying her figure.

“I slept in,” she replied. “Are you a swordbearer like Rahl?”

“I could be a swordbearer, but I’m not.”

“What do you mean you could be a swordbearer?”

Before he could reply, one of the other two soldiers rode up to them. This one was not as large as Maltokken but was wider in the shoulders. He carried a variety of bladed weapons along with a shield. He did not smell as bad as Maltokken did. This man rode beside her, opposite of Maltokken. Now she was flanked by both men. This arrangement made her feel vaguely uncomfortable.

“You could never be a swordbearer,” this other man corrected. “You don’t have the discipline or the skill to be a swordbearer, or anything close to one.”

“Neither do you, Psi’el.”

“Ah, but I have skill, whereas you have only strength.”

“What do you want?”

“I just want to talk to Connie here.”

“Well, maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Maltokken said.

“You know naught and are but a skeleton in metal armor.”

“You speak with the tongue of a fool, Psi’el. I am your sergeant.”

“A Sergeant, yes. A leader of Roggentine? That—I very well doubt.”

“You lie! Ask your friend Jalban over there.”

Connie spoke up. “Gentlemen, please. Must we argue?”

“You will have to excuse the Sergeant,” Psi’el said. “He is a fool.”

“Bastard, Psi’el,” Maltokken said. “I should cut you in half for addressing me this way, especially in front of the lady here.”

“Gentlemen,” Connie broke in again. “Why are you going along with us? Shouldn’t you be part of the army back there?”

“We are part of the army,” Psi’el replied. “Our presence here is to protect you on your journey to the Atranox.”

“I don’t understand. If casting the spell at the Atranox is so important, why doesn’t Roggentine send along an army to protect us on our journey?”

Maltokken let out a hearty laugh. “Roggentine needs every man it has to defend the city.”

“Besides, we have not the stockpiles of food to send an army to the Northlands,” Psi’el added. “If there is a siege, then the provisions already within the city will have to support the people.”

Connie nodded.

“If I may comment, Connie. That sorceress over there does not like you,” Maltokken said. “She spoke disparagingly of you at the meeting and does so even now behind your back. Why does she feel that way?”

“Maybe that’s none of your business.”

“Connie, I did not mean to provoke your anger. I was just curious. Perhaps you will need my protection from her in the future.”

“If you have to know, Maltokken, we had a sort of tiff last night.”

“Don’t let it trouble you,” Psi’el broke in. “She hates most of us soldiers too. I can tell by the way she looks at us.”

“She doesn’t hate us like she hates Connie,” Maltokken added.

“Yes, and it is an unfortunate thing to be despised by a celestial sorceress like her.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Connie huffed. She kicked her heels into the hanyak’s side and rode away from the two soldiers to the more genteel company of Rahl, who rode by himself at the front of the party several paces ahead of Snow, Theo, and Jalban. Once she got to Rahl, she noticed the disconsolate look on his face as she rode with his eyes fixated on his shadow on the ground that passed below.

“Hey, Rahl. Why the glum look? It’s a beautiful morning, and we’re on an exciting quest,” Connie said in the cheeriest voice she could muster considering the circumstances. The moment she started speaking, she felt Snow’s eyes upon her back.

“Yes, Connie. It is a fine morning. A fine day, indeed,” he replied with a weak smile.

Connie’s felt her heart tug for him. “You seem sad. What is bothering you?”

Rahl raised his head to view her. To her surprise, his eyes seemed moist, as if he’d been weeping. “We have a long journey ahead of us, Connie. There may be a time you regret you did not remain behind in your home in Roggentine.”

Connie sensed this was not the reason for Rahl’s melancholy that morning, but she decided to play along with it. “You know, Rahl, I’ve traveled to the far corners of my world. I’ve climbed the peak of six continents. I have seen things in my world that some only dream of seeing. Does the lore in this world make reference to such a place as the Taj Mahal?”

“I do not know of such a place,” he replied.

“Well, I’ve been there. Twice, in fact.”

“Tell me, Connie. Do you have Chaos in your world?”

“How do I know what Chaos is if I haven’t yet encountered it?”

“But you have seen what it can do,” he said, referring to the massacre at the Castle Maray.

“Rahl, in my world we have weapons that are just as destructive as anything I have seen Chaos do. And like your Chaos, they can be a threat to our existence if they fall into the hands of evil men.”

Snow rode up to Rahl. “Rahl, may I speak with you in private?” she asked him.

Taking the hint, Connie pulled on the reigns of the hanyak and eased it back away from the two, past Theo and Jalban, past Fandia and the two soldiers chatting amicably, and past Yalden sulking over the loss of his wife. Now she rode astride Tristana, who rode with her eyes on Theo just ahead of her, as would a hawk would its prey. For the rest of the party dressed in drab, olive-colored robes and armor, Tristana stood out by wearing a stylish-looking sari, deep blue with stars and white, crescent-shaped moon silhouettes. Connie wondered where Tristana got her fancy clothes, as she did not even carry a pack. And by virtue of her peaches and cream skin, only Snow rivaled Tristana’s cold, unearthly beauty with a voluptuous, cocky spunk. Tristana did not immediately acknowledge Connie’s presence beside her.

“It seems you are having the best conversation today,” Connie said to her.

Tristana looked at Connie with a bemused expression.

“That’s right. Either there’s something in the chlorine today or I’ve simply managed to get on everyone’s bad side just for being myself. Do you ever have days like that?”

Tristana looked away.

“Snow doesn’t trust either of us,” Connie continued. “I guess that means we have a lot in common.”

Connie realized that Tristana was watching Snow speak Rahl in hushed tones ahead of her. Connie surmised that Tristana could actually hear what they were saying.

“Us two girls have to stick together if we’re going to survive on this quest.”

Tristana looked to Connie again with an expression of cool regard. Now Connie wasn’t sure if Tristana really wanted to be on this quest.

“Hey, I’m sorry that Theo kept you from going back to wherever you go when you move on. You know, I didn’t ask to be here myself. But this is something we have to do.”

Tristana’s expression was unchanged.

“I know you don’t like Theo for what he did. But between you and me, I think one of the reasons he stopped you from walking into the pool was because of your great beauty.”

She waited for Tristana to respond. When she didn't, Connie continued.

“You don’t believe me? Have you ever looked in a mirror? Have a look at Theo. Don’t get the impression that I don’t like him—really, I do. He’s just not my type. But think about it: How could a guy like him get a girl like you under normal circumstances?”

Tristana turned to Theo, riding ahead of them. She stared at his back for a moment, then returned her gaze to Connie, seemingly nonplussed.

“You see, a guy like him would adore a woman like you if you gave him the chance. That old wizard who conjured you probably didn’t give a hoot for you. This man will worship you if you allow him to.” Connie smiled at Tristana. “Now you seem like you’d be an intelligent woman for being a conjuration. The adoration of a lowly human must mean something to you.”

Once again, Tristana turned to Theo. This time her eyes narrowed as she watched him. Her distant expression made her seem deep in thought.

Theo turned around, evidently hearing Connie talking to Tristana.

“What are you saying to her?”

“Nothing serious. Just a little girl talk.”

He shook his head and continued riding.

“You know what, Tristana. Calicus, Theo, and Snow all say you have a negative spirit or something like that. They make it sound as though you’re evil incarnate. I’ll be honest with you—I think they’re wrong. I don’t think you’re much different than us. I think deep inside that you’re just a normal girl. You don’t talk much, but I’ll bet you feel a lot more than you say.”

Tristana didn’t respond or appear to have even heard her.

Connie noticed Tristana’s shiny-tipped battle axe kept in a loop on the saddle of the hanyak. “Can I see your axe?”

Tristana looked down to her axe and then back up at Connie again. Her expression told Connie she wasn’t inclined to give it to her.

“I promise not to swing it at you,” Connie said in order to reassure her. “I’ve never even used an axe like that.”

Tristana seemed to think this over for a bit. She pulled her axe out of its loop and held it out to Connie. As Connie reached for the axe, she expected it to be quite heavy. To her astonishment, the weapon was incredibly light, almost as light as the dagger she kept in the scabbard on her belt. Connie examined the cruel-looking weapon closely, noting its fine workmanship, and the ankh that was engraved into the black shaft and polished metal head. Tristana kept her eyes locked on her weapon while Connie handled it.

“You must have some crazy enchantments on this thing,” Connie remarked as she examined the double-bladed head up close. “I’m wondering how you can hurt someone with a weapon as light as this. It doesn’t seem balanced very well, either.” She held the crescent-shaped edge up to the light. “But it does look sharp.”

“And what does this mean?” Connie said as she ran her finger across a rune faintly engraved into the head of the axe.

At that moment, the hanyak lurched below her as it stepped over a hole in the road, causing her index finger to lightly graze the edge of the weapon. She felt a fairy tingle where the blade contacted her skin. Immediately, blood began oozing out of the tiny cut that appeared there. Connie winced at the sight of this. Her skin had merely touched the edge of the blade, and it cut through her skin without any resistance whatsoever. Tristana immediately reached over and grabbed the weapon from Connie’s hands, but Connie hardly noticed. She was busy examining the cut. It was a slight wound, maybe half an inch in length, seemingly no deeper than a paper cut, and yet it bled profusely. She applied pressure to the wound to staunch the bleeding.

She looked to Tristana for a reaction. Tristana stared at her blankly. Connie looked away, feeling suddenly unnerved by Tristana and her enchanted weapon. She released the pressure on the cut; blood immediately began flowing from it again. She looked forward to the rest of the party riding in front of her to see if anyone had noticed what was going on. So far, they hadn’t. She retrieved a bandage from her pack and wrapped it around her finger. In short order, the bandage was soaked with her blood. Now blood was dripping down her arm, onto her clothes, and even onto the beige back of the hanyak. Her blood appeared no longer capable of coagulating. This alarmed Connie. She looked to Tristana, who seemed to be enjoying the show in her own, silent, enigmatic way.

Connie removed the old bandage and quickly applied a new one, but the wound still bled copiously, and it soaked the new bandage within a few minutes. Connie began to panic. I’m going to bleed to death! she thought.

“Theo!” she called out ahead of her.

Theo turned around and looked at her. It took a moment for him to notice all the blood on Connie’s clothes.

He immediately stopped his hanyak. “What has happened to you?” he asked alarmed.

The party stopped riding, and all eyes fell upon her.

“I cut myself on Tristana’s axe,” Connie said to him, suddenly feeling embarrassed to admit it.

Theo looked nervously at Tristana. “Tristana! What have you done?”

Tristana gave Theo a strange, mischievous smile, as if she were pleased over what happened. Connie stopped her hanyak next to Theo.

“How did this occur?” he asked.

“I asked her if I could look at her axe. While I was looking at it, I cut myself on its edge. Now it won’t stop bleeding.”

“Sounds like Tristana has a Bleed enchantment on her weapon,” Snow said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.”

“I only brushed my finger against it.”

Theo sighed. “It probably has a Keenness enchantment too, and who knows what else.”

“Leave it to Connie to do something foolish like touching the edge of an enchanted weapon,” Snow added, not passing up the opportunity to knock her. “Didn’t I warn all of you that this woman would be a burden to us?”

“She does not yet know the ways of your magic,” Jalban said, defending Connie.

“Magic is the curse of the gods,” Yalden added with ill-concealed mistrust.

“Speak for yourself,” Fandia said. “I would consider it a curse if I could not use my spells.”

The soldier named Psi’el held up his whip. “I’ll take my whip over a spell anytime.”

After this, the party broke into a heated discussion over the merits of spells. The word “idiot” came up many times in the same breath that Connie’s name was mentioned. Meanwhile, Connie continued to lose an exceptional amount of blood despite the slightness of her wound.

“Please!” Connie shouted above the bickering. Her shout was met with silence and the stare of nine pairs of eyes. “Can anyone stop this bleeding!?”

Jalban sidled his hanyak next to Connie’s. “Allow me to see the wound.”

Connie held out her hand. He stretched out her finger. Now the wound was beginning to sting from the severed nerve endings in her finger. The blood dripped from the cut to the ground below. Jalban examined the wound for a moment.

He applied some green salve from his pack to the wound. The stinging abruptly subsided with a fairy tingle the moment the salve touched her wound.

“Shall I cast an antidote spell on her?” Theo asked.

“There’s no need. She’d already be dead if there was a poison enchantment,” Jalban replied.

“True enough.”

Jalban wiped off the excess salve with a special white cloth. The bleeding had stopped.

“Thank you, Jalban. I’m sorry to trouble you for just a little cut like that.”

“It wasn’t ‘just a little cut,’ Connie,” he said soberly as he wrapped a fresh bandage on her finger. “You would have certainly bled to death from it.”

On hearing that, Connie looked to Tristana. The conjuration gazed back at her with a look of cool indifference. Connie then realized that her accidental brush with death by the edge of her weapon had evoked no emotions of pity or concern whatsoever in Tristana.

After this incident, Rahl decided to set up a lunchtime camp at the roadside. Fandia started the fire with a pair of potions she kept in her pack. First she spilled a small amount of thick liquid with the consistency of green honey onto the kindling. Then she poured a thin, clear liquid from a second bottle onto the thick liquid. The two liquids burst into flames on contact. The fire was ready in short order. The meal was uneventful and capped with aceralla nut extract for everyone. Rahl quietly excused himself from the camp. Most everyone else stretched out for a brief nap.

Rahl, the leader of the party, had made the edict that from now on, whenever the party rested, at least two members would remain awake on the lookout for Chaos and other intruders. Theo volunteered for the watch this time. Feeling energetic from the aceralla nut he’d eaten earlier, Connie joined him for the watch.

While most of the party rested, Theo sat on a fallen log reading a tome. Tristana sat on a tree stump across from him, eating a flaor, an orange, softball-sized fruit with flesh the consistency of a pear and the taste of a semi-sweet apple. Every so often, Theo would gaze up at her pensively from the pages of the book Calicus had given to him. To Connie, Theo looked like a man learning the owner’s manual for some large, mysterious contraption he had recently taken possession of.

Connie sat against another log by herself on the other opposite side of the camp as the sight of Tristana now unnerved her. She reached into her pack and pulled out one of Alyndia’s spell books. She studied the spells therein. On this reading, just as in the last, how the spells really worked still made little sense. She studied them nevertheless in hopes that maybe a word or phrase would enlighten her on how it all fit together.

A short while later, Rahl slipped back into the camp from the forest. Rahl saw Connie watching him. Rahl averted his gaze from her. His face was wet; he appeared to have been weeping. She watched him quietly extract the water bladder from his pack to wipe this blood from his eyes with a scrap of cloth. Connie wondered why he had changed. Almost overnight, it seemed that his spirit had been broken. She thought perhaps he worried for his wife.

After he rinsed his face, he roused the party. Shortly thereafter, they were on the road again toward the Calphous Wall.

As they traveled further down the road, the woods were now starting to thin. The sun had crept low on the horizon, and now its increasingly feeble light was partially obscured by clouds. Dusk had begun. At that time, they came to the crossroads where they stood the day before. Zeranon, Castle Maray, and Thissane Springs read the weatherworn sign in different directions. The babbling, rushing water issued from the river straight ahead of them.

Rahl rode up to the sign. He stood there and ruminated on it, not revealing his thoughts, seemingly transfixed by the names of the settlements carved into the weathered wood.

Anticipating Rahl’s decision, Maltokken started riding toward Zeranon. Psi’el followed him.

“No,” Rahl shouted to them on seeing this. “We will go to the Castle Maray.”

Maltokken stared at him, puzzled, then shouted back to him, “The closest portion of the wall is toward Zeranon. The Castle Maray is further from the place. We will save time if we pass through Zeranon.”

“We shall not go to Zeranon. We shall go through Maray,” he reiterated.

Maltokken adjusted the visor on his helmet. “May I bring it to your attention that it will take us an extra day if we go through Maray?”

At these words, Yalden spoke up. “You will heed Rahl,” he said to Maltokken. “We will not go through Zeranon.”

“Well, you are the leader,” Maltokken said to Rahl, sounding slightly nonplussed, “although it will take an extra day.”

Before Maltokken had finished speaking, Rahl looked toward the river. He jabbed his heels into the ribs of the hanyak and trotted at a brisk pace toward the old, stone bridge that spanned it. He halted the hanyak a dozen or so paces from the foot of the bridge. He drew his sword and held it out in the direction of the river while the party watched Rahl from the crossroads, the silver-iridium of his blade glinting in the dying light of the blue-green sunset.

A few seconds later, Rahl’s hanyak whinnied fearfully on its hind legs. It took Rahl a few moments to regain control of the animal while balancing precariously in the saddle to remain on its back.

“Chaos!” he shouted, riding back to the party. “The river is tainted by Chaos!”

“Surely, he jests,” Maltokken said. “Chaos could not have traveled this far in one day.”

“Alas, it has,” Rahl said, breathlessly. “It is by the luck of the gods that Roggentine is upstream, or Chaos would already be advancing within the city. But Thelm, Sba-ra, Ideoda—these towns and villages are already dead, as are those downstream,” he said. “We will cross the river now. All of you—prepare your weapons and spells!”

At those words, Snow, Theo, and Fandia began casting spells on their hanyaks, baraks, and the party members’ weapons.

The frenzied proceeding made Connie nervous. “What are you doing?” she asked Theo.

“I am protecting the beasts from the influence of Chaos,” he replied to her quickly between incantations. “Otherwise they will bolt on us.”

“What should I do? I don’t have spells, and I don’t have a decent weapon.”

“Stay by the fighting men, and do as you are told.”

Once the weapons were drawn and the spells were cast, Rahl started for the bridge. The party followed.

Rahl shouted back to the party. “Walk at the center of the bridge. Keep away from the edge. Look straight ahead, and do not look at the river.”

At those words, the party arranged itself single file, with Connie and Theo the last two in the party behind the pack animals.

Ahead, Rahl was now passing over the bridge, followed closely by Snow, then the rest of the party. Connie watched the party ahead of her. Nothing at all happened to them. It looked like a casual, uneventful stroll over the bridge. Nevertheless, the party rode single file in the center of the bridge, out of sight of the water. Connie began to wonder what all the commotion was about.

Just before her turn came to cross the bridge, she caught a sight of movement in her peripheral vision. She turned to see a group of people on foot walking, or rather running toward down the road alongside the river, the road that led from Zeranon. The people were dressed in rags. A fair number were bandaged. One walked with a limp.

Now the people drew closer to them, shouting to them for help. There were men and women. Perhaps a dozen of them. One man carried a baby wrapped in swaddling. Connie recognized one of the people in this forsaken-looking group; she was the woman who played the mandolin for them in the Wendermyre Inn in Zeranon. Her young son was not with her this time, nor was her mandolin, from which she had produced such bittersweet music.

“Who are they, Theo?” Connie asked the spirit mage who rode ahead of her.

“Probably, they are survivors from Zeranon.”

To Connie’s surprise, the people started running towards the party as they crossed the bridge.

“What should we do?” Connie asked.

“Nothing. Just keep moving.”

“But some of them are wounded. We should help them.”

“We cannot. This may be our last chance to safely cross the bridge.”

Connie and Theo had reached the crest of the bridge when there came a peculiar splashing sound coming from somewhere underneath it, as though someone were pushing boulders into the river. Then a subdued, unpleasant smell assaulted her senses, which very well may have been coming from her hanyak, but then again, maybe not.

Now they had safely crossed to the other side. They continued onward. Connie looked back; the townspeople were still approaching the bridge. The party stopped riding and looked back about a hundred paces from the river.

“Go back!” Rahl yelled, waving his sword high above his head. “The river is tainted!”

The people still did not heed the warning. They were now at the foot of the far side of the bridge and beginning to run across. The whole party began frantically shouting and waving at the people to turn back.

Midway across the bridge, screams issued from the people as a multitude of giant, wet, black tentacles rose out of the river. The tentacles breached the walls of the bridge and descended on the group of people running there. The party went silent in horror. The tentacles whipped around the top of the bridge, grasping and tearing at the people there. Some of the quicker-thinking people tried to run but were caught by the leg and drawn back to the fray. Some stood frozen in horror and were quickly overcome by the tentacles. Now the tentacles began tearing the people apart limb from limb amidst their blood-curdling screams. Once a tentacle took a limb, it quickly descended back into the river, presumably to some toothy maw hidden beneath the black water of the river. Connie saw one man ripped in half before her eyes; his hips and legs disappeared down the east side of the bridge, and his still-screaming head and trunk streaming entrails vanished down the west side. After all the people had disappeared, the tentacles had disappeared as quickly as they had come. The only evidence of the horror that had taken place was the surface of the bridge coated in blood and the odd bits of bone and quivering meat that remained behind there. And now the air was filled with that odd, repugnant odor from the river mingled with the remnants of death that covered the bridge.

Connie heard choking sounds behind her. Yalden and the Maltokken shamelessly knelt on the ground, vomiting. Fandia wept while Jalban made a feeble, ineffectual effort to console her. Jalban gazed into the ground, his eyes wide with shock. Rahl, Snow, and Theo gazed stoically back at the bridge as if waiting for something more to happen. Tristana seemed altogether unaffected, perhaps even a little preoccupied.

Connie could not believe she had just witnessed such a tragic event. In all her years of travel working for the CIA, she had seen many awful things. But she had never witnessed anything like what she had just seen. It was the stuff of nightmares. She shuddered to think the same fate could have befallen the party if they hadn’t played their cards right. Now she needed explanations. She got off her hanyak and walked over to Rahl. As she walked toward him, she realized her legs were shaking. Rahl did not immediately take notice of her. His eyes remained fixed on the bridge.

“What was that? Where did the tentacles come from?” Connie asked.

“Chaos,” Rahl replied.

“Chaos?” Connie turned to the bridge. “And what were those tentacles connected to?”

“The river.”

She gasped. “What? You mean, those tentacles were the river itself?”

“Yes. As I told you, the river is tainted.”

“How am I going to get my head around a river growing tentacles?”

“It is ugly and strange, I know.”

“Those poor people didn’t have a chance. Couldn’t we have done something for them?”

Rahl shrugged. “Maybe, but we may have lost some of our number defending them. You must remember, Connie, we are on a quest. If we fail, then many more will share their fate.”

“It was horrible,” Fandia said between her cries. “Just horrible…” her voice trailed off.

Rahl and Snow momentarily looked to Fandia. Maltokken stepped up to Rahl, his wiry beard specked with vomit.

“What are we going to do, Rahl?”

“Continue,” the swordbearer answered.

“Rahl, don’t we have to go through lands where—where that kind of stuff is everywhere?”

“Yes,” he replied quietly. “And just beyond the Calphous Wall. You have seen only one form of Chaos, and Chaos has an infinite number of forms.”

“How—how do we fight something like that?” Maltokken asked, his voice quavering.

Rahl looked down at him for the first time since they had witnessed the horror on the bridge. “We must rely upon our wits and our strengths.”

“Do you think we really have a chance against them?”

Snow broke in. “Why do you ask, Maltokken? Are you afraid?”

The warrior looked over at Snow, then back at Rahl, then to Connie. “Not at all, I think we ought to go back to Roggentine to warn the Council of what we have seen. They must know of this.”

“They already know,” Rahl said. “This is why the army remains behind to defend the city while we take the quest.”

“I think you’re scared. You want to run home like a street dog with its tail between its legs,” Snow taunted. She looked to Rahl. “I thought these were elite guards? Didn’t you say they were elite guards of the Inner Circle?”

“They are,” he answered.

“I’m not impressed,” she said, looking down on the frightened soldier from the saddle of her white hanyak.

Maltokken glared at Snow with ill-concealed contempt. He walked away from them, muttering something vicious beneath his breath.

Snow turned her attention to Connie. “I suppose you want to go home too.”

“I said nothing of the sort.”

“Well, you know you always can.” She pointed to the bridge. “You just have to walk over that bridge, and you’ll be on your way. If you want, I’ll even cast a protection spell on you. It may or may not work, but you can chance it.”

“That will be enough, Snow,” Rahl said.

“Rahl, now you know she is in this over her head. Look at her. She cannot cast a single spell. She can’t use a weapon. She’s altogether worthless to us.”

Connie stared at Snow. She wanted to knock her off her high, white hanyak.

“Snow, hold your tongue,” Rahl said.

Snow sighed. “Very well. I’m only trying to do you both a favor.”

The party went silent for a moment except for Fandia’s quiet weeping.

Snow scowled at her apprentice. “Will somebody shut her up? She is depressing me.” Snow rode away to the immediate group to get a better view of the lovely sunset.

“What shall we do now, Rahl?” Connie asked.

“It will be dark soon. We must move on.” He gazed sullenly at the bridge. “We should be as far away as possible from the river by the time darkness sets in.”