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u。 Please。’
‘Had you tried to run； we would have put spears in your back； but since you choose to stand； you have earned the right to face us。 You will die anyway； as have all before whom we have caught。 If you do not fight us； it will be made quick； and you will not suffer。 You have my word。’
She turned her hand in the air and the chanting started again。 The outer ring of men drew their swords … long； black…handled weapons； each with a ring at the pommel holding a cord that looped around the swordsman’s neck to keep the sword from being lost in battle。 Each blade was curved； widening toward the clipped point。
The men spun the swords； passing them from right hand to left； and back again。 The blades never stopped spinning。 The two rings began moving in opposite directions again。 The inner circle of men began twirling the spears like staffs。
Richard had known guides who carried staffs。 No one ever bothered a guide with a staff。 These people were better than any guide he had ever seen。 The shafts of wood were a blur in the moonlight； the steel points a circle of dull reflection。
Richard broke the spear shaft over his knee and drew his sword。 The sound of steel rang above the sound of the whistling spears and blades。
‘Don’t do this； Du Chaillu！ Stop it now； before anyone else is hurt！’
‘Do not fight us； witch man； and we will grant you a quick death。 I owe you at least that。’
Richard’s chest heaved； the muscles in his jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth。 The chanting increased in speed； and the circles of men moved faster。
Richard glared at Du Chaillu as she stood on the rock。 ‘I disavow responsibility for what is to happen； Du Chaillu。 It is you who presses this。 What happens is your responsibility。 You bring it！’
She spoke softly； her voice filled with regret。 ‘We are many。 You are but one。 I am sorry； Richard。’
‘Only a fool would have confidence in those odds； Du Chaillu。 They are not what they seem。 You cannot all e at me at once。 You can only attack one； or two； or at most three at a time。 The odds are not what they seem to your eyes。’ Richard wondered dimly where his own words had e from。
He could see her nod in the moonlight。 ‘You understand the dance of death； witch man。’
‘I’m not a witch man； Du Chaillu！ I am Richard； the Seeker of Truth。 I’m not going with this Sister to learn to be a witch man by choice。 I’m a prisoner。 You know that。 But I will defend myself。’
Du Chaillu watched him in the moonlight。 ‘The spirits know I am sorry for you； Seeker Richard； but you must die。’
‘Don’t be sorry for me； Du Chaillu。 Be sorry for those of you who are going to die this night； for no good reason。’
‘You have not seen the Baka Ban Mana fight。 We will not be touched。 Only you will taste steel。 Dismiss your concern； we are safe。 You will have no killing to regret。’
Richard loosed the sword’s magic； the rage。
The two circles moved and chanted faster； spun their weapons faster。 The storm of the sword’s anger thundered through the Seeker。 Even in the grip of the rage； the wanton need to kill； he knew it wasn’t going to be enough。 They were too many。 And he had never seen anyone handle weapons the way these people did。
Heedlessly； he pulled more of the magic to him。 Pulled until the mercilessness of the hate pounded in his head and nearly made him sick。 He drew it into the depths of his soul。
Richard stood still in the center of the moving circles。 He touched the gleaming blade to his forehead。 The steel was cold against his hot skin； against his sweat。
‘Blade； be true this day。’
He called the magic onward。 Before he even realized what he was doing； he pulled off his shirt and threw it aside； to be free of any hindrance to his movement。 Why would he think to do that？ It seemed the right thing to do； but he had no idea where the thought came from。 He drew the blade up straight before him。 His muscles flexed and tightened； glistening with sweat。
He found the center of himself； that place of quiet； of focus。 He sought his Han within the white…hot center of his rage。
Use what you have； a voice within him said。 Use what is there。 Let it loose。
In the quiet of his mind； Richard remembered the time he had stood on Zedd’s wizard’s rock； to use its magic to hide the cloud that Darken Rahl had sent to track him。 The rock had been used by many wizards before Zedd。 As Richard had stood on it； calling the magic onward； letting it flow through him； he had felt the essence of those who had e before。 He remembered the way it had felt to feel the things they had felt； to know the things they had known。 It had given him insight into those who had once used the magic。
Suddenly； he knew what the prophecy meant。
He wondered how it was possible to have used the sword before without seeing it； without seeing what the magic held。 Just like the wizard’s rock。
Others had used the Sword of Truth’s magic； and in the bargain； the magic retained a memory of their talents at fighting； of every move in which it had ever been used。 The talent of untold hundreds who had wielded this blade； men and women alike； was there for the taking。 The skill of both the good and the wicked was bound into the magic。
In his stillness； he saw the first e from the left。
Be a feather； not a rock。 Float on the wind of the storm。
Richard unleashed the magic and spun with the attack； letting it sweep past him。 He didn’t strike； but let himself float with the press of the charge。 He let the sword’s magic guide him。 The attacker tumbled to the ground when he didn’t make the expected contact。
Instantly； another came； twirling his spear。 Richard spun around again； and as the attacker passed； he used the sword to splinter the shaft in two。 A spearpoint thrusted toward him。 Without stopping； he glided past it and brought the sword up； cutting the shaft in half。 Another charge came from behind。 He met it with a foot to the chest； throwing the man back。
Richard gave himself over to the magic from the sword； and to the peace within hi