When they were finished, Kahlan unexpectedly put her arms around him, hugging him close and tight for a moment, separating before he could return her gesture.

“Thank you for saving me,” she said softly. “The boundary terrifies me.” She looked sheepishly up at him. “And if you remind me what I said about not coming after me, I’ll kick you.” She smiled as she looked up from under her eyebrows.

“Not a word. I promise.”

He smiled back at her and pulled up the hood of her cloak, stuffing her hair into it, to keep her dry in the rain. He pulled up his own hood and they started off down the road.

The woods were deserted. Rain dripped down through the tangle overhead. Branches reached around the trail like talons reaching to snatch both people and horses. Even without their riders’ direction, the horses trotted their way carefully down the center of the road, their ears pricking from one side to the other, as if listening to the shadows. So dense was the thicket to each side that there was no chance they could take to the trees if they had to. Kahlan drew her cloak tighter. It was go on, or go back. And there was no going back. They rode the horses hard the rest of the afternoon and evening.

When the day’s death began stealing away the soft gray light, they still had not reached the swamp, and there was no way to tell how much farther it was. Off through the tangled woods, they caught the sound of howling. Their breath caught in their throats.

The heart hounds were coming.

The horses needed no encouragement to run. They fled down the road at full speed, their riders making no attempt to slow them, the howls of the heart hounds energizing the effort. Water and mud splashed as their hooves pounded the road, and rain ran in rivulets across their hides, but it was the mud that won out, streaking and caking on their legs and bellies. When the hounds shrieked, the horses returned a snort of fear.

Richard let Kahlan take the lead, wanting to stay between her and their pursuers. The sounds of the heart hounds were still distant, off toward the boundary, but he knew by the way they were angling in from the left that it was only a matter of time until they would be overtaken. If they could turn to the right and head away from the boundary, there was a chance they could outrun the hounds, but the woods were thick, impenetrable—it would be slow going if they could find an opening, a sure death if they tried. Their only chance was to stay on the road and reach the swamp before they were caught. Richard didn’t know how far it was, or what they would do once they reached it, only that they had to.

The colors of day were washing out into a sullen gray as night approached. Rain pelted his face in small, cold pricks, heated and mingled with sweat, and ran down his neck. Richard watched the bodies of his two friends bounce and jostle on the horses, hoping they were tied down securely enough, hoping they were not badly hurt, hoping they would be conscious soon. The ride couldn’t be doing them any good. Kahlan didn’t turn or look back. She bent to her task, her dark form hunched forward over the horse as it ran.

The road curved back and forth as it threaded its way around imposing misshapen oaks and rock outcroppings. Dead trees became more infrequent. Leaves of the oak, ash, and maple trees sealed the riders away from the last vestiges of the sky, darkening the trail even more. The hounds were getting closer when the road began to descend into a sodden wood of cedar. A good sign, Richard thought: cedar often grew where the ground was wet.

Kahlan’s horse disappeared over the edge of a drop. Richard reached the brink of the sharp slope and saw her again, descending into a bowl in the earth. The tangled tops of trees spread out into the distance, at least as much of it as he could see in the mist and dim light. It was the Skow Swamp, at last.

The smell of wet and rot assailed him as he followed her in a rush, down through swirling trailers of mist that moved and spun at their passing. Sharp calls and hoots came from the dense vegetation. The howls of the heart hounds came from behind, closer now. Woody vines hung from slick twisted limbs of trees that stood in the water on roots looking like claws, and smaller leafy vines spiraled around anything strong enough to hold them. Everything seemed to be growing on top of something else, seeking to gain an advantage. Water, dark and still, sat in stagnant expanses, sneaking in under clumps of bushes, enveloping stands of fat-bottomed trees. Duckweed drifted in thick mats on the water, looking like manicured lawn. The lush growth seemed to swallow the sound of their horse’s hooves, allowing only the native calls to echo across the waters.

The road narrowed into a trail that struggled to remain above the black water, making it necessary to slow the horses for fear they would break a leg on the roots. Richard saw that as Kahlan’s horse passed, the surface of the water rolled in lazy ripples as things moved under it. He heard the hounds at the top of the bowl. Kahlan turned at the howls. If they stayed on the trail, the hounds would be at them in a matter of minutes. As Richard looked around he pulled the sword free. It sent its distinctive ringing across the murky water. Kahlan stopped and looked back to him.

“There,” he pointed with the sword across the water to their right, “that island. It looks high enough to be dry. Maybe the heart hounds can’t swim.”

He thought it a slim hope, but could think of nothing else. Chase had said they would be safe from the hounds in the swamp, but hadn’t told them how. This was the only thing he could think of. Kahlan didn’t hesitate. She led her horse right in, pulling Zedd’s behind. Richard followed close after with Chase’s, watching up the trail, seeing movement through gaps in the trees. The water seemed to be no more than three or four feet deep, with a muddy bottom. Weed broke from its anchoring and floated to the surface as Kahlan’s horse waded through ahead of him, making steady progress to the island.

Then he saw the snakes.

Dark bodies wriggled in the water, just below the surface, heading toward them from every direction. Some lifted their heads, flicking red tongues out into the damp air. Their dark brown bodies had copper-colored splotches, almost invisible in the gloomy water, and barely disturbed the surface as they swam. Richard had never seen snakes this big. Kahlan was watching the island and hadn’t noticed them yet. The dry land was too far away. He knew they weren’t going to make it before the snakes reached them.

Richard turned and looked behind to see if they could make it back to high ground. Where they had left the trail, the dark shapes of the heart hounds were gathered, snarling and growling. Heads held low, the big black bodies paced back and forth, wanting to enter the water, to reach their prey, but only howling instead.

Richard lowered the tip of the sword into the water, letting it drag a small wake behind, as he prepared to strike at the first snake that came close enough. Then a surprising thing happened. When the sword dipped into the water, the snakes turned suddenly and squirmed away as fast as they could go. Somehow, the magic in the sword frightened them away. He wasn’t sure why the magic would function this way, but was glad it did.

They worked their way among the large trunks of trees that stood like columns in the mire. Each in turn brushed aside vines and streamers of moss as they passed. When they crossed shallower areas of water, the tip of his sword no longer reached the water. The snakes returned immediately. He leaned lower, the sword’s tip dipping back in the water, and the snakes turned once more, wanting nothing to do with them. Richard wondered what would happen when they reached dry land. Would the snakes follow them there? Would the sword’s magic work to keep them away out of the water? The snakes might be as much trouble as the heart hounds.