Chapter 13 Part 9 | Lovers and Beloveds | IHGK Book 1
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Scores of men lay still or groaning on the steps at the forefront of Warin's impromptu army: among them, Warin himself. Calls for Sisters filled the air.
"I failed you," said Teacher. "I did not see him."
"I didn't see him, either, and I hardly thought he'd waste such a goodly amount of power this far down the hill," said Warin. "You and I took the brunt of it, but I couldn't get my defense up fast enough to protect all of the Brothers."
"Nor I."
Brother Cor gently prodded Warin's shoulder; Warin paled and choked down a heave. "Broken collarbone," said the Brother. "Your Majesty, you cannot stay. We must find you a Sister."
"Would you let a broken bone stop you?" said Warin, dragging himself to his feet. "No, not as long as you could walk. Sling it. How many hurt?"
"That I saw? One Traveler, two Brothers, a good handful of townsmen, all dead outright. Maybe more. Perhaps a hundred wounded, some badly enough they might yet die. Broken bones, split heads, many bruises." Cor sighed. "Our armor made us better weapons than anything else the Usurper could command."
Warin shuddered as Cor helped his left arm into a sling. "Call the Sisters for the wounded. The dead Traveler--find Connin and tell him--there you are, Connin. Are you all right?"
"Unhurt. I don't know how I'm going to tell Tom's mother, is all." Connin eyed the Temple, its windows shuttered tight. "The Usurper has about two hundred Guards around the Temple, fifty bowmen on the roof, who knows how many inside, and the entrance magically sealed. We'll get through the ward among us."
"The King's injury weakens his ability to wield magic, and I cannot break a seal that Hildin has set," warned Teacher. "It will be up to you, Connin."
"We will rely less on magic, then," said Warin, "and more on persuasiveness." He ran up a few steps, shaky at first, then more confident as he pushed pain aside; he faced his few hundred remaining men--armored Brothers and unprotected townfolk intermingled, armed with swords, spears, daggers, axes, kitchen knives, staves, and nothing at all.
Without thinking, he tried to raise his right arm; he nearly swooned with pain and kept himself upright with an effort, though he hid it as best he could. "Men of Tremont!" he shouted. "We have suffered at my brother's hand. But now, his magic is weakened.He will not be able to strike such a blow again before we reach him, and I hold my father's magic now." Warin stopped for breath; his shoulder ached, reminding him that though he held the magic, he might not be able to use much of it.
"Hildin has barricaded himself inside Pagg's Temple, but we will breach his enchantments, and his Guard will join us when they see their true King has returned. Many in the Leutish nobility, their King Fredrik, and his daughter the Princess--the Princess Edmerka are also inside," he continued, his voice catching on Emmae's title. "They are not to be harmed. Is it understood? Respect King Fredrik as you would me!"
"The Leutish woman is the Usurper's wife," called a townsman. "Don't spare her, Your Majesty, she may carry his child!"
"She is innocent in this," said Teacher in a surprisingly loud voice above the murmurs. "Protect her." Teacher drew sullen, frightened looks from the crowd, but the cries for Edmerka's blood died down.
"We outnumber the Guards, but I will not have them die if I can help it," called Warin. "Stay well behind until I call for you, and then be ready. Be sure your fellows understand what I've said!"
As Brothers and townsmen shouted his orders, bawling in relays to the back of the crowd, Warin walked up the road, with Teacher a step or two behind and the men following at a distance. Strange how quickly he'd put the Woodsman aside and taken up the King, he thought, as he and Teacher raised a shield of solid air before them. Just as he feared, arrows from the Temple's roof rained down on them as soon as they came within range.
This time, they were not caught off-guard; the arrows cracked against a barrier of air, but a few lucky shots passed over their shields to land with resounding thunks far behind them. A strangled cry told Warin at least one of the arrows had hit its mark; he looked back to see a dozen men, arrows protruding from arms, legs, throats, eye sockets. "Stay out of range!" he roared, and climbed faster up the switchbacks, Teacher and Cor keeping pace.
When he was sure the Guards could hear him, he shouted, "Cease fire! I am Warin, returned to take up the throne!"
"Warin is dead, pretender!" returned the Guard commander, a burly man with a many-times-broken nose.
"Would the Black Man stand with a pretender?" countered Brother Cor. "Would the Brothers stand with a pretender? Look to the bottom of the hill. Even now, more Brothers join the rightful King."
The commander shifted uneasily as he eyed the growing assemblage of shining steel on the long ascent, and then the massive door to the Temple. "We're locked out, sir," muttered a Guard behind him. "The Regent has locked us out."
The commander scowled and straightened his great shoulders. "Prove to me you're the Prince come back."
Warin climbed the broad, white Temple stairs, stopping within arm's reach of the commander. "What would prove it to you?"
The commander considered, hand flexing nervously on the hilt of his sword. "I--well..." He cast about. He straightened, more confident, and pointed to a white boulder, its top flat as a table; rusty stains flowed down its sides, as if blood had run down it over and over again. "The Father's Rock. Lift it."
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