Kneel! The Fallen Hero Has Returned!

Chapter 10: Kneel!

"Seize those weapons! Now!" Damon roared, and his voice cracked. "They're malfunctioning! Take them away from him!"

Six temple guards rushed the altar with their hands out. The first one grabbed the crimson spear, and in the next instant he flew backward through the air. He hit a pillar with a sickening crack and slid to the floor, groaning.

"Aaah! It burned me!"

The second guard reached for the hammer and was thrown across the hall. The third and fourth tried together, and the weapons flashed like lightning and hurled them into the crowd. Guests screamed and scrambled away.

The twelve weapons did not stop bowing.

"Don't touch them!" the head priest shrieked. "They're angry! They are holy!"

"Then why are they bowing to a cripple?" a man shouted from the back. "What is he?"

"Quiet!" Damon spun around. His face was dark red, and his eyes burned with something close to panic. "He's nothing! A trick! He is a sick, poisoned man, and this is a trick!"

He stormed toward the wheelchair, but Seren got there first.

She grabbed Ronan by the collar and hauled him halfway out of his seat. Her nails dug into his throat, and her pretty face twisted with fear.

"What did you do?!" she screamed. "Tell me, Ronan! What did you do to them?!"

"I-I didn't..." Ronan gasped, "Seren, please, you're hurting me..."

"Liar! You're a liar! First the stone, then the statue, now this! What are you hiding?!"

Her face was inches from his. Everyone around them was staring at the weapons. Nobody was looking at the wheelchair, and nobody could see her hands.

Ronan took a slow breath.

Then the weak, trembling boy disappeared.

His head rose, and his eyes opened, and they were gold. Not the shy gleam of a man in pain, but deep, burning gold. Seren's breath stopped in her throat.

"Three seconds," Ronan whispered. His voice was calm and low and very cold. "That's all you get, Seren. So listen."

"R-Ronan?" Her lips shook. "Your eyes..."

"The black vial." He smiled, and it was the gentlest, most terrible smile she had ever seen. "The one you took to Silas every month. The tonic for my pain."

Her face went white.

"It was Abyss crystal dissolved in alcohol," he said softly. "You fed me corrosion for three years. You kept me crippled, and you smiled while I screamed."

"That's... that's not..." she stammered, and her fingers went limp on his collar. "How did you... who told you..."

"Doctor Silas. He was very sorry. He cried." Ronan tilted his head, "Do you know what I thought when he told me? I thought, I want to see her kneel."

"No," Seren whispered. "No, please..."

"Kneel."

It was only a breath of power, the smallest ripple of the core. It touched no one in the hall but the two people standing in front of him. And it landed on Seren and Damon like a mountain falling on them.

Damon, who had just reached the chair, let out a choked cry.

Their knees buckled at the same time and they crashed to the stone floor.

"What..." Damon gasped, straining with all his strength. The veins stood out in his neck. "I can't, I can't get up! My legs! What is this?!"

"Damon!" Seren sobbed. "I can't move either!"

Gasps rose all around the hall. A noble covered his mouth. A merchant's wife dropped her fan. Someone whispered, "They're kneeling to him.”

Ronan let the aura go.

At once, the gold faded from his eyes. His shoulders sagged, his face crumpled, and tears came spilling down his cheeks.

"Please!" Ronan cried, reaching for them with trembling hands. "Don't kneel to me! Get up! Please! I'm just a cripple, I don't deserve this!"

The hall went silent again, and then a few people began to murmur. "Look at him, he's sobbing."

"It must be the weapons. They're pressing everyone down."

"Poor boy. He didn't want any of this."

"It's the holy power, it must be. He's just a vessel."

Ronan almost laughed. They would believe anything, as long as it was not the truth.

Seren and Damon stumbled to their feet when the pressure lifted. Damon's face was a mask of shame, and he did not look at the crowd. Seren swayed, one hand clutching her throat, staring at Ronan as if she had seen the dead rise.

"Bram," Ronan whimpered. "Take me home. Please."

"Right away, Young Master!" Bram sniffed, glaring at the crowd. He spun the chair around and pushed it hard down the aisle. No one dared to laugh.

A slender figure stood in the middle of the hall, blocking the way.

The Keeper.

"Miss," Bram said nervously, "we must go. The Young Master is unwell."

"Give us a minute, old man."

"I will not! He is..."

"One minute." She did not raise her voice. She only looked at Bram, and the old servant swallowed and stepped back, trembling.

"B-Briar Quinn," Ronan said weakly, reading the name stitched on her sleeve. "The Keeper, isn't it? I'm sorry about the weapons. I don't know why they did that."

"Hello again, cripple."

Ronan blinked, keeping his face blank and wet. "A-again, miss? I don't think we've met."

"Don't you?" Her mouth curved, but her eyes stayed cold. "A back alley. Four hunters on their knees, crying to a Lord who was never there. I sat on the roof and watched the whole show."

"I, I was unconscious," Ronan whispered. "They beat me. I don't remember anything."

"I know you don't." Briar walked slowly toward him. "You're a poor, helpless, broken man who just happened to make twelve holy relics bow. I told you then it wasn't an Abyss Lord. Now I've seen what it was."

"I swear, I didn't..."

"Don't." She stopped in front of the chair and slipped something into his coat pocket in one smooth motion. "That's for you. A gift."

Ronan blinked. "What is it?"

"A token from the Cross family. The ones they give their hunters." She tapped the pocket. "Turn it over. Look at the back."

He pulled it out with shaking fingers. It was a small bronze disc with a snarling wolf on the front. On the back, pressed deep into the metal, was a crest he knew better than his own name. A mountain with two crossed swords.

The Vale family crest.

Ronan's heart stopped.

"Found it in the pouch of a dead hunter," Briar said softly. "Your family paid for your hunt, Ronan. Every coin of it. I thought you should know."

"Why would you..." He stopped himself, and his voice trembled. "Why are you helping me?"

She did not answer.

Instead she leaned down, slowly, and wrapped both hands around the handles of his wheelchair, glancing down at the blanket over his legs.

"I could have sworn I saw you stand up," Briar whispered. "So explain to me how."