Crusade - James Lowder [121]
Farl gestured to the soldiers all around him. "The troops are responsible for that. Not me." A worried look crossed his face, and he leaned close to the princess. "Have you seen your father?" he asked quietly.
Blanching slightly, Alusair shook her head. "I was hoping to do that right now."
Without much comment, Farl and Alusair made their way through the western lines. The general briefly explained how he'd not seen the king since early in the battle. He was concerned for the monarch, because the fighting had been especially fierce at the center of the front rank. Alusair listened in grave silence, and she noted that more and more corpses lay in the ranks as she made her way to the king's standard.
The crowd of gaping onlookers made it easy for Farl and Alusair to find Azoun. The general called for captains to break up the crowd and reform the men into companies, while the princess shoved the soldiers out of her way and rushed forward. She choked back a gasp when she saw the king, surrounded by clerics and sprawled unconscious on the ground.
"The king will be fine, Madam Knight," a fat, red-faced priest of Lathander said. He placed a restraining hand on Alusair's shoulder and attempted to turn her away. "The clerics do need room to work, however, so-"
"That's my father," Alusair snapped, and the priest's pudgy red cheeks flushed a deeper crimson.
He stammered an apology, but Alusair wasn't listening. Without a glance at the clerics who had turned to look at her, she went to her father's side and knelt.
They'd removed the king's helmet and chain mail coif, even loosened the straps holding his cuirass tight around his chest. Azoun looked pale, and sweat plastered his hair and beard to his face. Though he was unconscious, his breathing seemed labored and his mouth was twisted into a grimace of pain. The reason for the expression was obvious. A broken arrow jutted from the king's left thigh. The missile had penetrated the heavy silver cuisse, and now blood stained the bright armor.
"He'll be all right," a cleric murmured soothingly. Alusair saw the man's deep blue eyes and noticed the shining silver disk-the symbol of Tymora, Goddess of Luck and Patron of Adventurers-hanging around his neck. "But we should move His Majesty from here to a place where we can work our healing."
The princess started. It was clear from the cleric's tone that he was actually asking her for permission to move the king. Alusair hadn't expected to fall into a leadership role with the Army of the Alliance, and she was certain that she didn't want the responsibility.
"Perhaps Vangerdahast or General Bloodaxe should give you your orders,"
Alusair began. "I don't-"
The infantry commander's deep voice whispered in the princess's ear.
"With all respect, Your Highness, you'd best show the troops that someone they respect is in command here. Vangerdahast is quite ill and confined to his tent."
Farl's sudden comment startled Alusair, who was already on edge. She glanced at the crowd, grown larger now because of her presence. Even the general's orders could not disperse the Cormyrians who'd come to see the elusive princess, the daughter of Azoun who had helped to save them from the Tuigan. Memories of regal processions through the streets of Suzail flooded Alusair's mind. She could not help but notice that the hope and awe on the soldiers' faces was very similar to the emotions shown by the poor who had once watched her in Cormyr. Their need was obvious and overwhelming.
"Your orders, Your Highness?" Farl asked, loudly enough for the crowd to hear.
Alusair winced. She had already decided that she would have to put on a show of authority for the Alliance, but she hated being forced into anything.
And it was clear Farl was doing just that. With a flash of anger in her eyes, the princess stood and glanced at the infantry commander.
"Regroup the soldiers into companies, General," she replied. She looked to the crowd and added, "The Tuigan could very well come back tonight. My father will expect us to be prepared