The Third Kingdom by Terry Goodkind

because he was so afraid. It was not only difficult for us to believe what we thought he was telling us, he was having trouble telling us the whole story because he was frantically concerned with us hurrying to go help you. We had no trouble believing, though, because of his panicked state, that you had been attacked by someone and the situation was serious.
    “Henrik didn’t know where you were, exactly. We finally got it out of him that you had come from Kharga Trace, from the Hedge Maid. That was enough to tell us what we needed to know. There is only one, seldom-used road that goes in the direction of that swampy place, so we had a good idea where to look. We left the boy up here where it was safe while we went out to look for you.”
    “You did good, Henrik,” Richard told the boy. “You saved our lives.”
    Henrik managed a small smile. “Just returning the favor, Lord Rahl. You and the Mother Confessor saved my life.” He gestured toward Kahlan. “The Hedge Maid had me. Jit would have bled me dry like the other poor souls who were trapped like I was, but had no one come in time to help save them. They died in her lair. The Mother Confessor got me out.”
    Richard nodded. “That’s the kind of person she is. She has always fought for life.” He rubbed his forehead as his gaze sank. “Now she’s fighting for hers.”
    He was feeling dizzy, both from his injuries and from fear for his friends and loved ones after what Henrik had told him about the mysterious attack. The long war had ended. He had thought they were finally at peace and that life was returning to normal. He guessed that there was no such thing as normal out in the Dark Lands. He knew, though, that even for the Dark Lands this was out of the ordinary.
    Sick with worry for the fate of his friends, his bite wound throbbing painfully, and his head pounding with what might be a developing fever, he needed to lie down.
    After learning a little more about Zedd and Nicci beginning to heal them despite the Hedge Maid’s vile touch of death, he needed to have Sammie see to helping Kahlan. He needed help as well, but he knew that he could wait a bit. He didn’t know if she could.
    Richard was about to ask Ester if she knew anything at all about the people who had attacked his friends, when he saw the cat across the room suddenly turn to the doorway and arch its back.
    Teeth bared, the cat hissed. Its dark gray fur lifted until it was all standing on end.
    Richard felt the hair on his own neck stiffen.
    “Does it do that often?” he asked in a quiet voice.
    Sammie pulled a long lock of curly black hair back from her face as she frowned at the cat. “No. Just when it’s frightened for some reason.”
    The flames of several candles withered and died out, leaving a wisp of smoke to curl up into the still air.
    Richard heard other cats out in the corridors beyond the doorway let out feral yowls.
    Ester started to get up. “What in the world …”
    Richard caught her arm, pulling her back, keeping her from going to the door. Henrik’s eyes widened at the chorus of feline screeches. Sammie’s frown deepened.
    And then, someone in the distance let out a bloodcurdling scream.
    Richard sprang up. Dizzy and light-headed, he struggled to to keep from falling over as he focused his attention on the sounds outside in the corridors.
    His hand instinctively found the hilt of his sword resting in its sheath at his hip. His fingers tightened around the wire-wound hilt as sudden cries of terror and pain rang out and echoed through the halls. At first there was only one scream, but others soon joined in a chorus of terror.
    The sword’s anger instantly inundated him. The suddenness of it felt like being abruptly dropped into an icy river. The shock of it made him draw a sharp breath.
    His own anger rose up out of those dark waters to join with the rage spiraling up from the ancient weapon. The icy shock turned hot with rage as a storm of power from the sword