Chapters (110)
- Books by Terry Goodkind
- We Appreciate Your Support
- This is a work of fiction.
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Chapter 70
- Chapter 71
- Chapter 72
- Chapter 73
- Chapter 74
- Chapter 75
- Chapter 76
- Chapter 77
- Chapter 78
- Chapter 79
- Chapter 80
- Chapter 81
- Chapter 82
- Chapter 83
- Chapter 84
- Chapter 85
- Chapter 86
- Chapter 87
- Chapter 88
- Chapter 89
- Chapter 90
- Chapter 91
- Chapter 92
- Chapter 93
- Chapter 94
- Chapter 95
- Chapter 96
- Chapter 97
- Chapter 98
- Chapter 99
- Chapter 100
- Chapter 101
- Chapter 102
- Chapter 103
- Manifesto
- Supplemental Content
- Author Terry Goodkind
“I walked up that road, between those poles as those still alive watched me, hoping that I, their trusted sorceress, could do something for them. Some cried out with their last breath for help.
“Inky black ravens perched on the poles, warily watching me as I came up the road, waited for me to pass before they resumed the feast. Some cawed loudly, hoping to drive me away from what they had claimed as theirs.”
Isidore’s head turned to the side a bit, as if she was staring off into another place in her mind’s eye. Her breathing was ragged and labored.
“What did you do about the people on the poles who were still alive?” Magda finally asked. “Could anything be done to help them? Could you use your gift to save some of them, at least?”
Isidore sat motionless for a time, staring at nothing in her lonely blindness, as if reliving the vision of what she had seen that terrible day.
“They were beyond healing,” she whispered at last. “Those still alive used all their strength to beg me to deliver them from the unendurable pain. They begged for death.”
“Could you heal none of them?”
“All but one were well beyond healing of any kind, even from wizards far more talented than me. There was nothing I could do to save their lives. Nothing.”
Magda leaned in. “So what did you do, then?”
Isidore turned blindly toward Magda. “All I could do was spare them their remaining suffering so as to ease their souls’ final journey into the spirit world. As I hurried up the road, I first used a slash of my power to sever the ropes holding each of them up on the poles. Hanging there like that had made it difficult to breathe. Many of the dead had suffocated. Each person in turn collapsed to the ground as I parted the ropes.
“Then, I went from one of those still alive to the next and held their hand for a moment as I offered each a few quiet words of comfort, sympathy, and a promise of a gentle end to their agony.
“It felt as if I were outside my own body, watching myself moving from one person to the next, holding their hand, offering words of comfort, and then stopping their heart. I couldn’t believe I was doing such things. I had never envisioned my abilities being put to such a use as to have to end the lives of those I was supposed to be protecting.