Faith of the Fallen

Fists in the air, voices raised in cries of rage, the mass of humanity avalanched toward the plaza. Ranks of heavily armed men marched down the steps to meet the advance. They vanished beneath the onslaught.

Nicci screamed with all her might, trying to get Richard's attention, but her voice was lost in the hurricane.

CHAPTER 68

Richard didn't know what stunned him more: to see his statue in rubble, or to see the crowd charging up the steps after Victor had declared himself a free man.

The mob rolled without pause over armed guards descending the steps to meet them. A number of people fell wounded or killed. The bodies were trampled beneath the surge of people. Those in front couldn't stop if they wanted to-the weight of tens of thousands behind them propelled them onward.

But they didn't want to stop. The roar was deafening.

The brothers panicked. The officials in the rear panicked. The few thousand armed guards panicked. In that instant, the nature of the world transformed from the omnipotent power of the Order assembled on the plaza, to every man for himself.

Richard wanted Brother Narev. He saw, instead, armed men rushing in at him. Richard swung and buried the head of the sledgehammer in the chest of a man who came at him with sword raised high. As the man flew past, the handle of the sledgehammer sticking from the crater in his chest, Richard snatched the sword from his fist, and then, blade in hand, he unleashed himself.

A small group of guards saw fit to protect the brothers. Richard charged into them, cutting with every stroke. Every slash or thrust took a man down.

But guards were not what Richard was mainly interested in. If he was to lose everything, he wanted Narev's head in the bargain. As he fought his way through the chaos of people crushing into the plaza, he couldn't find Brother Narev anywhere.

Victor appeared out of the melee gripping a brother by the hair. Other men had joined Victor-and each had a hand on the brother. The burly blacksmith wore a scowl that would bend iron. The brother's eyes were rolling around as if he'd been hit on the head, and couldn't gather his senses.

"Richard!" Victor called out.

The men, some still grasping the brother's brown robes, rushed in around Richard. They stood in a sweep around him, ten or fifteen deep.

"What should we do with him?" one man asked.

Richard glanced around at all the people. He saw men he knew from the site. Priska was among them, and Ishaq, too.

"Why ask me? It's your revolt." He met the eyes of the men with challenge. "What do you think you should do with him?"

"You tell us, Richard," one of the carvers said.

Richard shook his head. "No. You tell me what you intend to do with him. But you should know, this man is a wizard. When he comes around, he's going to start killing people. This is a matter of life and death, and he knows it. Do you? This is about your lives. It is for you to decide what to do, not me."

"We want you with us this time, Richard," Priska called out. "But if you still won't join us, then we're having our lives back, having this revolt, without you. That's the way it's going to be!"

The men all shook their fists as they yelled their agreement.

Victor hugged the groggy brother to his chest and wrenched his head until his neck broke. The limp body slipped to the floor.

"And that's what we intend to do with him," Victor said.

Richard held out his hand as he smiled. "Always glad to meet a free man." They clasped forearms. Richard looked into Victor's eyes. "I'm Richard Rahl."

Victor blinked; then his belly laugh rolled out. With his free hand, he clapped Richard on the side of his shoulder.

"Sure you are. We all are! You had me going for a second, there, Richard. You really did."

The press of the crowd drove them back to the columns. Richard reached down and snatched the dead brother's robes, pulling the body along with him.

The mass of towering stone walls and marble columns afforded some protection from the raging river of people.

The ground shuddered. A blast from the inside blew a hole out through the wall. The darkness ignited with light. Stone fragments whistled through the air. Dozens of bloodied people were thrown back.

"What was that!" Victor called out through the din of screaming, yelling, and the roar of the explosion.

Ignoring the danger, the crowd continued to advance on the men who had enslaved them. Throngs swarmed over the spot where the statue had stood, scooping up shards of marble. They kissed their fingers and, as they swept past, planted those kisses on the words on the back of the fallen bronze ring. They were choosing life.

Hordes of people had captured a number of the brothers and officials, and were beating them to death with chunks of white marble from the rubble of the statue.