In the pure white void, his sister, Jennsen, stepped into view. Tom was with her, his arm reassuringly resting around her shoulders. Anson, Owen, and Marilee were there as well. Except for Tom, they were all pristinely ungifted—pillars of Creation.
“Richard,” Jennsen said, “we want to go to that new world.”
A tear rolled down Richard’s cheek. He knew that every one of those like her was listening, and they were all in agreement.
“You all have every right to stay and live free here.”
“I know,” she said for them all.
“But you have taught me the value of life, and of respecting the lives of others. This is a world with magic. We don’t want our lives to be at the expense of this world, or of lives here whose existence depends on magic. We are pillars of Creation. We need to grow and build, to create our own world, a world without magic. This is your world. That distant world is ours.”
Richard cupped her cheek. “As much as I would want you to stay, I understand.”
More than understanding, he had known that they would want to go to that other world.
Richard smiled at how beautiful she truly was, at how good a person she truly was. “I think you will find a safe home for yourself and your friends.”
“Do you think we will be safe, Lord Rahl?” Tom asked. “I mean, considering the nature of the people you sent to inhabit that distant world?”
Richard nodded. “Movements like the Order, which only degrades and destroys the lives of its believers, needs an enemy to divert attention from the profound misery it produces. A great demon gives them an excuse for their misery. Such an enemy, as we have been, is the glue that binds their flailing suffering together. Without the excuse of a powerful evil enemy to blame, their ideas, even if they burn out of control for a thousand years, eventually collapse in on themselves. Simple tyranny usually rises up from those ashes to spring back to smoldering flame over and over throughout history in endless cycles of blaming people in the past.
“The pristinely ungifted will be far too small an enemy for the Order to be aware of, or to notice, or to blame. You will simply be too small and insignificant in numbers to be a worthy excuse.”
“We will be safe,” Jennsen said, answering the concern still in Richard’s eyes. “Without an enemy like they had here to blame, to battle, to conquer, the people of the Order will turn their hatred inward. They will prey on their own. We will see to it that we don’t bring too much attention to ourselves. We will be fine.”
Richard nodded. “If you get in their way, in their sight, they will crush you, but I’m hoping that you and your people can find a place—perhaps in the area there that is known as Bandakar here in this world. You can live your
own lives, there. I wish it were otherwise, but I know it must be this way.
“I have sent the Chainfire spell to that distant, new world,” he told her. “It will work its way through all the people there, erasing the memory of this world, of what you have left behind. I must leave it infected with the chimes to insure that any magic carried into that distant world will be destroyed.
“Along with magic, memories of this place will be destroyed.
“I have no idea how the voids in the memories of people will be filled in—what they will eventually substitute for their real history, their real memories. Those created memories will by definition be more tenacious than the reality of what once was, of what was here. Those created memories will link together in the mind of man through the Chainfire spell, becoming a common conviction, a shared certainty. Those beliefs will hold sway over future generations despite all else. Any memory of us will eventually be lost in that distant world.
“But I can’t count on the Chainfire spell and the contamination destroying all magic the way I believe it will. I simply can’t count on those who will still have magic there for a time not finding a way around it.”
Richard laid a hand on Jennsen’s shoulder. “You, and those like you, will be the insurance for the future of your world, insurance that magic will forever be erased from existence in that world, from future generations. Once your descendants eventually touch everyone born, there will be no more magic in that distant world, even if some try to preserve it, secret it away for their own despotic ambitions. Time, and all those pillars of Creation who are born, will spread your trait of having no spark of the gift so that in the future, no one in that world can ever again be born with any spark of the gift, none will ever be able to bring back magic. But it will live on here.
“I know that you will remember me, Jennsen, but I also know that after time, that memory, along with all of this world, all that was in it, will slip away and come to be nothing more than legend.”
Richard turned to Tom, the big, blond-headed D’Haran. “You are not pristinely ungifted.”
Tom nodded. “I know, but I love Jennsen and wish to be with her more than anything in life. Wherever we are together is wonderful, and we will have a wonderful life together. I’m rather excited about the prospect of helping to build a world for us, a world where Jennsen and all the other ungifted will not be different, but simply people.
“I ask, Lord Rahl, that you release me from service to you so that I may devote my life to loving and protecting your sister, as well as our people there in our new world.”
Richard smiled as he clasped hands with the man. “There is no need for me to release you, Tom. You have always served me by your own grace. I will be eternally thankful that you have made Jennsen happy.”
Tom saluted with a fist to his heart, then, grinning, embraced Richard briefly. Owen, Anson, and Marilee, also grinning with the excitement of their lives ahead, clasped hands with Richard, thanking him for teaching them to embrace life.
“I love you,” Jennsen whispered as she gave him a tight hug. “Thank you, Richard, for helping me love life. Even if I forget you, you will always be in my heart.”
As she stepped away, she and the others began to slip away into the white void of the gateway.
All alone in the white void, Richard gripped the Sword of Truth to withdraw it from the box of Orden, to pull the key from the gateway. He could only think that even if everything had worked as he had planned, the one thing he had hoped for the most for himself had failed.
The sterile field he had needed to allow the power of Orden to succeed had been tainted. Kahlan had known that he loved her.
“You are a rare person, Richard Rahl,” came the most beautiful voice in the world.
Richard turned to see her standing there before him. Her green eyes sparkled. She wore her special smile that she wore for no other.
Richard stood frozen, one hand still gripping the sword so hard that he could feel the word
TRUTH
pressing into his hand.
Kahlan stepped close, slipping an arm around his neck. “Richard, I love you.”
Richard circled an arm around her waist, his feelings overwhelming him.
“I don’t understand. It wouldn’t work if the sterile field was breached with foreknowledge.”
“I was protected,” she said with a crooked smile.
Richard frowned. “Protected? How?”
“I had already fallen in love with you all over again. I didn’t need a sterile field. I think that from the first moment I saw you in that cage as it rolled into the Order’s camp I started falling in love with you. In everything you did, you revealed just what kind of man you are—the man I fell in love with so long ago, the man I married in the Mud People’s village.
“When you gave me that carving of Spirit, it confirmed everything I had come to know all over again.
“Art reveals the artist’s inner self. Art reveals a man’s ideals, what he values. Anyone with that much reverence, that much passion for the nobility of the human spirit, could only be a man who shares my passion for life.”
Richard smiled as he felt a tear roll down his cheek. “I went to the underworld to get the memories taken by the Subtractive Magic of Chainfire. There, I learned that the
core of those memories could only be restored if you accepted them of your own free will. I put them into that carving.
“When you accepted it, you accepted everyone’s memories. You broke the Chainfire spell that had taken so much from so many. By being so willing to embrace all that is good, to value the beauty of life and hold it to your heart, you gave everyone back their memories.”
She gazed into his eyes for the longest moment.
And then he kissed his wife, the woman he loved, the woman who meant everything to him. The woman who loved him.
The woman he had gone to the underworld and back for.
As he lost himself in that kiss, as her arms tightened around him, he pulled the Sword of Truth from the box of Orden, closing the gateway for all time.
When Richard finally opened his eyes, the world had returned. Zedd was standing nearby, watching them, grinning.
“Zedd,” Richard said, blinking at all the others also there.
“No need to apologize, my boy.”
“I wasn’t apologizing.”
Zedd gestured for them to continue. “Well, you have a right to kiss your wife after all this time. I always knew that you two belonged together for all time.
“I just wish it hadn’t taken you so long to figure all this out.”
Richard scowled at his grandfather. “Sorry to have inconvenienced you. Maybe you should have taught me a little better in the beginning and it wouldn’t have taken me so long.”
Zedd shrugged. “I must have been a good teacher—you got it all right.”
“Richard,” Nathan said as he stepped forward. “Do you realize what you have just done?”
Richard glanced around. “Well, I believe so.”
“You just fulfilled prophecy!”
Richard skeptically cocked his head at the prophet. “What prophecy?”
“The prophecy about the great void!”
Richard made a face. “But I just saved us from the great void you warned us was the threat in prophecy.”
Nathan threw his arms up in excitement. “No, no, don’t you see? You just created a world where magic doesn’t exist. That’s why prophecy sees that other world as a void—because prophecy can’t see into a world without magic! Prophecy was actually predicting what you would do. When you split the worlds, that was the fork in prophecy. The great void is prophecy’s prediction of that other world.”
Richard sighed. “If you say so, Nathan.”
“I don’t understand something,” Zedd said. “How did you know that the Sword of Truth was the key to opening the boxes of Orden? I mean, you knew that
The Book of Counted Shadows
couldn’t be the real key because Orden predated the existence of the Confessors. But Orden also predated the Sword of Truth. How could it be the key?”
“The sword protected my mind from the Chainfire spell because the boxes of Orden are the counter to the Chainfire spell, and the Sword of Truth—or, more correctly, the magic invested in it—is the key to the boxes, so it’s part of Orden. That was the spark of insight that made me realize that the sword is the key—because I was holding it when the Sisters ignited the spell, it protected my memories of Kahlan, and the sword interrupted the ongoing effects of the spell for those who touched it.”
Zedd planted his hands on his hips. “But the sword was created after Orden.”
“That was a trick.”
“A trick!”
“What better way to protect something of such profound
power than with a trick, rather than a complex, extravagant construction of magic, like everyone thought of
The Book of Counted Shadows
.
“After all, a trick, if properly done, is magic.” Richard smiled. “You taught me that, remember? That’s what the wizards back then did. The whole thing with
The Book of Counted Shadows
was a trick to disguise the real key: the Sword of Truth. The sword was invested with the magic to unlock Orden; the book was a ruse, a trick, to send everyone off track.
“The true key—the sword—has elements of magic that complete the constructed magic of Orden. The sword contains those necessary elements—magic invested in it by hundreds of wizards. The sword may have been created later, but the magic invested in it was the magic created by the same wizards who created Orden. It was right under everyone’s nose all the time.
“That was the reason that the Sword of Truth has always been the responsibility of the First Wizard. It was beyond priceless.
“You, Zedd, were a proper caretaker for the sword. You found the right person for it, the right person to be the true Seeker of Truth.
“The reason it was so important to find the right person to be the Seeker is because only that kind of person, with the love of life and empathy for others, would be able to turn the blade white. Only that person, when touching it to the correct box, could have turned the blade white.
“Only a true Seeker of Truth can use the Sword of Truth and thus the power of Orden.
“It’s tied in to the admonition at the beginning of
The Book of Life
that says ‘Those who have come here to hate should leave now, for they only betray themselves.’ The Sword of Truth requires compassion to work. Hate will not turn the blade white—only compassion will. That is the
final fail-safe for Orden. At the same time, it works this way in order to be the key to the boxes of Orden.
“You can’t use hate to make Orden work. Hate is not a part of the solution.
The Book of Life
warns of that very thing. Once you grasp the concept, it’s all pretty simple.”
“Yes, I can see how simple it is,” Zedd muttered to himself as he poked a finger through his thatch of unruly white hair to scratch his scalp.
Nathan snapped his fingers as he turned to Zedd. “Now I also understand that other prophecy.”
Zedd looked up. “Which one?”
Nathan leaned close. “You remember: ‘Someday, someone born not of this world will have to save it.’ Now it makes more sense.”
Zedd frowned. “Not to me.”
Nathan flicked a hand. “Well, we’ll have to work out the details later.”
Zedd turned an intent look on Richard. “There are a lot of questions remaining, a lot to understand. As First Wizard I need to know everything so I can tell if you got all the particulars correct. What if you made some sort of miscalculation in some aspect of it? We need to know if—”