He was going to kill her.
Wrath exploded through Richard's mind. He screamed "No!" in a murderous rage as he leapt off the rock. With both hands he brought the Sword of Truth up while still in midair. When he hit the ground he recoiled, swinging it around from behind, in an arc. The sword whistled with its speed. The man had turned as Richard hit the ground. Seeing Richard's sword coming, he brought his own up defensively with lightning speed, the tendons in his wrists and hands making a popping sound as he did so.
Richard watched as if in a dream as his sword came around.
Every ounce of his strength went into trying to make the sword go faster, go truer. Be deadlier. The magic raged with his need. Richard looked from the man's sword, hard into the steel blue eyes. The Seeker's sword followed the track of his eyes. He heard himself still screaming. The man held his sword straight up, to deflect the blow.
Everything else around the man dissolved in Richard's vision. His anger, the magic, was unleashed like never before. No power on earth could deny him the man's blood. Richard was beyond all reason. Beyond all other need. Beyond all other cause for living. He was death, brought to life
Richard's entire life force focused lethal hatred into the drive of his sword.
With a beat of his heart that he could feel in the straining muscles of his neck, Richard watched out of his peripheral vision with expectant elation as he held the man's blue eyes, watched his sword finally sweep the rest of the agonizing distance around in a smooth arc, at long last contracting the enemy's raised sword. He saw the detail of it shattering ever so. slowly in a burst of hot fragments, freeing the bulk of the severed blade to lift into the air, twisting as it went, its polished surface glinting in the light with a flash upon each of the three revolutions it made before the Seeker's sword; with all the power of his rage and the magic behind it, reached the man's head, contacting the chain mail, making the head deflect only the tiniest bit before the sword exploded through the steel links of the mail, through the man's head at eye level, filling the air with a shower of steel pieces and links.
The misty morning erupted with a burst of red fog that made Richard feel a flush of exhilaration as he watched clumps of blond hair and bone and brain tumble madly away as the blade continued its sweep through the crimson air, clearing the last ragged fragments of the enemy's skull, continuing its journey around, while the body with only a neck and jaw and little else recognizable above that, began dropping away as if all its bones had dissolved, leaving nothing to hold it up, finally hitting the ground with a hard jolt. Globs of blood were flung up into the' air in long strings which finally arced and fell back to the ground and onto Richard, offering the victor the hot satisfying taste of it in his mouth where some of it had landed as he screamed his rage. More pumped thick and copious out into the dirt at the same time as bits of steel from the chain mail and shattered sword rained to earth while other bits of bone and steel that had already flown past Richard bounced and skittered across the, rock behind him and still more bone and brain and blood from up in the air fell back at last onto the ground all about„tinting everything a rich red.
The bringer of death stood victorious over the object of his hate and rage, soaked in blood and the glory of joy such as he had never imagined. His chest heaved in rapture. Bringing the sword to the front again, he checked for any other threat. There was none.
And then the world imploded upon him.
Everything about jolted back into his sight. Richard saw a wide-eyed look of shock on Kahlan's face before the pain took him to his knees, ripping through him, doubling him over.
The Sword of Truth dropped from his hands.
Sudden realization of what he had done slashed through him. He had killed a man. Worse, he had killed a man he had wanted to kill. It didn't matter that he was protecting another life; he had wanted to kill. Had reveled in it. He would have allowed nothing t9 deny him the killing.
The vision of his sword exploding through the man's head flashed over and over in his mind. He couldn't make it stop.
In searing pain like none he had ever known he clutched his arms across his abdomen. His mouth was open, but no scream came forth. He tried to let himself lose consciousness to stop the pain, but could not. Nothing else existed but the pain, just as nothing else had existed, in his desire to kill, but the man.
The pain whited his vision out. He was blind. Fire burned through every muscle, bone, and organ of his body, consuming him, taking his breath from his lungs, choking him in convulsing agony. He fell to his side on the ground, his knees pulled up to his chest, the screams coming at last in pain now as he had screamed in rage before. Richard felt the life being drawn from him. Through the anguish and hurt, he knew that if this went on he wasn't going to be able to retain his sanity, or worse, his life. The power of the magic was crushing him. He could never have imagined that this level of pain existed; now he couldn't imagine it ever leaving. He felt it stripping his sanity from him. In his mind, he begged for death. If something didn't change, and quick, he would have it, one way or — another.
In the fog of agony, a realization came to him; he recognized the pain. It was the same as the anger. It coursed through him the same way as the anger from the sword. He knew that feeling well enough; it was the magic. Once he recognized it as the magic, he urgently tried to take control of it, the way he had learned to control the anger. This time he knew he must win control, or die. He reasoned with himself, came to comprehend the need of what he had done, horrible as it was. The man had sentenced himself to death with his own intent to kill.
At last, he was able to put away the pain, as he had learned to put away the anger. Relief washed over him. He had won both battles. The pain lifted, and was gone.
Lying on his back, panting, he felt the world come rushing back. Kahlan was kneeling beside him, wiping a cool, damp cloth over his face. Wiping off the blood. Her brow was wrinkled; tears ran down her cheeks. Splatters of the man's blood lay in long streaks across her face.
Richard rose to his knees and took the cloth from her hand, to wipe her face, as if to wipe from her mind the sight of what he had done. Before he could, she threw her arms around him, embracing him tighter than he would have thought her capable of. He hugged her back just as tight while her fingers went up the back of his neck, into his hair, holding his head to her as she cried. He couldn't believe how good it felt to have her back. He didn't want to let her go, ever.
"I'm so very sorry, Richard," she sobbed.
"For what?"
"That you had to kill a man on my account."
He rocked her gently, stroking her hair. "It's all right."
She shook her head against his neck. "I knew how much the magic would hurt you. That's why I didn't want you to have to fight the men back at the inn."
"Zedd told me the anger would protect me from the pain. Kahlan, I don't understand; There is absolutely no way I could have been any more angry."
She separated from him, her hands on leis arms, squeezing as if to keep testing that he was real. "Zedd told me to watch out for you, if you used the sword to kill a man. He told me that what he said about the anger protecting you was true, but he said the first time was different, that the magic tested, took a measure of the Seeker with the pain, and nothing could protect you from it. He said that he couldn't tell you because if you knew, it would make you hold back, be more cautious in its use, and that could be disastrous. He said the magic has to join to the Seeker with its first ultimate use, to ascertain his intent when he kills." She squeezed his arms. "He said the magic could do terrible things to you. It tests with the pain, to see who will be the master, who the ruled."