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Jackals stood defiant with the rope around his neck and hands tied behind his back. Shaw thought of a painting Judge had stolen from a noble down in Careth. The painting had depicted a young man in glistening armour, defiant, steadfast with the Carethan banner, the black dragon riding on the wind, and his eyes locked towards the enemy. Jackals shared his defiance with the young man on the painting, and like the painting it was a mere fantasy.
He was a young man that tiptoed on an old stool, a decrepit piece of wood that was all that stood between his life, and death, and Shaw could see the illusion break each time it creaked.
‘You judge him unfairly,’ John said, standing amidst the crowd that had gathered in the hall. ‘A man can only be brave when he is scared.’
To Shaw, John looked more like a fairytale prince now, then he had ever done in life, with his long black hair streaming behind him, and an ethereal glow that crowned him. Only the blood running from his eyes broke the illusion.
‘He will die because of you, after all.’
‘Jackals shouldn’t be standing there,’ an older brother whispered near Shaw. He had been part of the company that had set out to find the Madman. Half his face had become mangled in the attack.
‘He disobeyed orders,’ Aike said. ‘He should have listened to me.’
‘The pup didn’t die by Jackals’s hand. It was the wolf’s that killed him, we all saw.’
‘That is not how the Lord Commander sees it.’
‘Even so, the lad doesn’t deserve this. Lashings, aye, but death? Doesn’t seem right.’
‘The Commander blames him for all the other murders too,’ another brother said, he had missing teeth and he lisped the words.
‘John and Darshan? The lad is hot-headed and rash, but he isn’t a cold-blooded murderer. He had no reason to kill them. It must have been someone else.’
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‘You will burn,’ Darshan whispered. ‘You will burn, Shaw. You will burn.’
Aike grunted.
‘The Lord Commander said—’
‘The Lord Commander is looking for a scapegoat, a sacrifice. Now he has a suitable victim,’ Shaw said, cutting off his lisping brother.
‘Traitorous words,’ the lisping brother said. ‘You all should watch your tongues.’
‘We watch them,’ the older brother said. ‘But we won’t be blind.’
‘Brothers!’ The Lord Commanders voice rung through the hall and beckoned all to silence.
He pushed through the gathered crowd, his steps echoed against the stone walls. They demanded attention, demanded respect, for they rang with the rhythm of a dreading heart, with the slow-building suspense of a whirling drum. But Shaw couldn’t find respect for the gloated pig, with his eyes yellow and dry. He looked a wasted pauper; a fleeting shadow of the man Shaw had known.
The Lord Commander stopped before Jackals who stood with the rope tight around his neck. He gasped and coughed before he began his speech.
‘You know the words. You know them before I can say them. For you all bear these words on your mind: “times are hard”,’ The Lord Commander said and sighed. ‘Worse than hard, and there is no end in sight. But that doesn't give a man any right to take the life of another!’ He stabbed a finger towards Jackals and sneered.
‘Corlys, Darshan, John, Brothers all! Loved. Respected. Gone. Taken by a man who thought himself above it all!’
‘Hang him!’ Shaw could hear shouted across the hall, but many reserved their voices.
‘Any last words?’ The Lord Commander asked Jackals, Shaw could see the dried blood around his mouth and chin. ‘No?’
Jackals spit, hitting the Lord Commander in the face. Defiant to the last.
The Lord Commander kicked the stool from under him, and Jackals fell, the rope stretched out, but he didn’t die. It was too short of a drop to give him a quick death. It squeezed his throat. Held him dangling. Jackals thrashed and kicked, his face bloating purple.
They all watched him hang, life slowly draining from his face, listening to his grunt and the weary groan of the rope.
Shaw turned his eyes towards the Lord Commander, but the man that he had known walked with quick steps away from it all.
‘This is your fault, Shaw,’ His father said. ‘You have no one but yourself to blame.’
Shaw gritted his teeth. Get out of my head!
His father spoke to him no more, but his judgement never seized.
Had it ever?
He watched until Jackals’ thrashing stopped.