They surged around him, hemming him in with their shields. Clubbed spears thudded against his helmet, and it rang like a brazen gong. He staggered, shouted, struck out again—the sword fell from his hands—he toppled into a clamoring darkness—
Dimly, he was aware of being stripped of armor, chained hand and foot, hauled roughly to his feet. He lurched mechanically along, and slowly his head cleared. Through a mist of throbbing pain, he saw that Hildaborg walked beside him. Spears pricked their backs, the chains rattled on ankles and wrists. They were in the middle of a tight triple ring of guards, marching up the hill toward the Temple.
The villas of the mighty lay around them, white in the moonlight, fragrant with gardens. Alfric saw fountains splashing, and even then thought of the parched land beyond the walls, land that might flower again if it had that water.
But that would never be. He would swing high above the city, the falkhs would pick out his eyes—Hildaborg would die, and the grip of the Temple would be locked on Valkarion till its last stones were dust on the wind.
Strength came back, a bleak resolve not to go down without one more fight. His brain began whirring, the old cold craftiness of his turbulent lifetime surged forward ... hopeless. They were caught, they were done; all his struggles were the vain writhings of a beast in a cage.
"So this ends it." Hildaborg's voice was weary. Then she smiled a little. "But we made a good try, Alfric." And warmly: "And we have loved each other. That is enough."
"It is not," he answered. "But it is something."
"Silence!" commanded the priest.
Now they were on the hillcrest, the mighty walls of the Temple looming before them. Alfric saw it aswarm with slaves and guards and priests of all degrees. The gong-beat was a steady, tremendous crashing—it seemed to fill the world with its brazen clamor. High rose the chant of the Moon Wedding.
The warrior glanced aside, over to the palace. There was a bridge spanning the gully between the two hillcrests, and guards were on it. Other guards, city and Temple, were besieging the palace; he saw their fires in a ring about it. They were setting up a great ballista whose stones, he knew, would bring the walls down in ruin.