Seagulls glided on the rising currents, filling the air with the cacophony of their mews as the sun’s first rays crept over the horizon. The growing light did little to lift the gloom that seemed to hang over the sprawling red stone complex built on the edge of a cliff. Despite the early hour, the Red Prison’s courtyard was a hive of activity as five prisoners were shuffled out of a side door under the watchful eyes of armed guards. They were the condemned and were connected to one another by heavy chains that ran through manacles around their wrists and ankles.
As they were herded across the courtyard, a prisoner in the middle of the group caught his foot on a loose paving stone and stumbled, yanking those behind him forward. The guards were unmoved, and there was no cursing from those he had inconvenienced this time. Each prisoner save for one was lost in his own thoughts as the man picked himself up and together, they shuffled up a short ramp and into the back of a waiting open topped wagon.
Roland Ashfoot looked around the room anxiously from his position at the back of the line. At sixteen years of age, he was the youngest of the prisoners by far, and also the tallest. A guard glared at him as he hesitated at the foot of the ramp, preventing the men in front of him from taking their seats.
“Get in,” one of the nearby guards hissed, conscious of the bald man clad in orange robes standing nearby. “If it’s a last minute reprieve you are looking for, none is coming.”
Rol breathed a sigh when he saw the prison’s main doors swing open and grinned broadly at the guard. “Perish the thought.”
As he took his seat at the rear of the wagon, he noticed the tension across the courtyard rise palpably as a tall, strongly built man was led in chains down the stairs towards their wagon. He was in his sixties and sported a thick grey beard that obscured the bottom half of his face. Though he was clad in the same rags as the other prisoners, there was a regal air about him, and several guards bowed their heads in respect as he walked past, while others wore looks of disbelief, scarcely believing this man was clapped in chains before them. As the new arrival was led up the ramp, the two prisoners across from Rol shifted themselves to make more room.
“So, it’s true,” the prisoner next to Rol breathed as the newcomer climbed into the wagon. “I thought the others were telling porkies when they told me what you did.”
“Aye, the stories are true,” the newcomer said. His steel grey eyes widened when he noticed Rol. “You’re so young. What did you do to get yourself here?’
Rol beamed toothily. “Well, I said you were a hero for what you did.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up. “And they’re executing you for that?”
“He also got into a brawl with four guards who attempted to apprehend him, breaking one of their arms, Lord Colnus,” one of the guards barked. “Another will walk with a limp for the rest of his life.”
“Colnus Robrad has had his lands and titles stripped,” another guard snapped. He wore the red plume of an officer in his helmet. “You are to address him as you would any commoner.”
The first guard blanched and lowered his head. “My apologies, Lord Captain.”
“Let there be no further bloodshed because of me Captain Argan,” Colnus said calmly as he settled in his seat. “If everything is in order, might I suggest we not keep his Majesty waiting?”
A conflicted look crossed the captain’s face. “Are you so eager to die, old friend?”
“My crime warrants this punishment,” Colnus replied simply. “There is no sense in delaying the inevitable.”
For a moment, Rol thought the captain might burst into tears, but he quickly regained his composure and began barking orders. The wagon’s back door was slammed shut and a pair of heavy double doors swung open. On the captain’s order, the driver clicked his tongue, and the wagon rolled out of the prison compound.
“You know, I was worried you weren’t going to make it,” Rol began as the wagon passed under the gatehouse.
The buildings surrounding the prison still bore scars from the ferocious battle that had taken place here five months ago. Several had been completely levelled, as though a giant fist had pummelled them into dust, while others still sported missing doors and smashed windows from when the fighting was door to door.
Despite the early hour, a huge crowd had already gathered behind the temporary wooden barricades that lined each side of the short road which led to the execution platform up ahead. The platform stood five feet tall, permitting the crowd to witness the demise of criminals and traitors to the throne alike. A hush descended over the square when the wagon appeared, followed by gasps of disbelief when they saw Colnus.
“You know, I’m beginning to think your being here is going to detract from my big moment,” Rol remarked with a broad smile on his face.
“Your big moment is likely to be your last,” the man next to him snapped. “So why don’t you do us all a favour and shut up?”
“You’re looking forward to being executed?” Colnus asked.
“They say that thing you defeated in single combat at the Silver Arch was one of the Dark One’s lieutenants… You’re a personal hero of mine, and that’s the Creator’s truth,” Rol said, turning serious. “Just to be in your presence today… You have no idea what it means to me. You saved my life and countless others that night.”
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Tears appeared in the old man’s eyes. “You survived the horrors of the Silver Arch only to end up here?”
“Don’t mind him, my lord,” the prisoner hissed when he saw the pain on Colnus’ face. “He’s just an idiot.”
Soon, the wagon came to a stop just short of the platform. The door was opened the prisoners shuffled out. Colnus attempted to lead the way up to the platform but was stopped by the Captain.
“No, you are to be last,” Argan said as he looked around the crowd and frowned. “It appears that His Majesty has not yet arrived...”
The prisoners rearranged themselves so that Rol was second in line and guards led them up the short stairs onto the platform. When he reached the top, the man in front of Rol came to a stop and began to weep.
The executioner was waiting for them on the platform. He was a burly armed man who wore a black mask to hide his identity. He held a large axe in his hand and used it to gesture the men forward. A guard shoved the hesitant prisoner, but he didn’t budge. Snapping a curse, he and another guard dragged the man onto the platform and threw him to the ground next to the executioner’s block that stood at the edge of the platform. A basket was placed on the ground below where the crowd could examine the freshly severed head. The chains connecting the prisoners caused them all to fall into a heap close to the block.
The first prisoner was weeping openly at the bottom of the heap, and Rol whispered into his ear. “If it’s any consolation, it’s better to be first. The axe will be at its sharpest and the cut will be clean.”
His words provided little encouragement, and the guards roughly hauled them to their feet. Rol took a deep breath as he observed the crowd. All their eyes were on Colnus, who was standing at the end of the line. Many among them were weeping openly.
“Is everyone here and accounted for, Lord Captain?” the executioner asked.
Argan looked at Colnus pointedly before turning back to the executioner. “They are.”
“Good, you may begin preparations.”
Argan glanced at the viewing gallery on a balcony that overlooked the platform. The seats were filled with the kingdom’s nobility. They were dressed in sombre clothes and looked like they couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing. However, the red cushioned chair in the middle that bore the royal crest, a pair of deer reared on their hind legs on either side of a snarling lion’s head, was empty.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “His Majesty wishes to witness…”
The executioner nodded. “My instructions are clear.”
Argan swallowed before nodding at his men. “Unchain them.”
The chains were removed, but their wrists and ankles remained manacled. The man destined to be executed first was bawling now and the executioner gestured for him to step forward. When he didn’t move, guards roughly wrestled him to his knees and placed him on the block. The crowd watched impassively as a crimson robed priest stepped forward and droned a prayer as the executioner took his position and raised his axe.
Before he could swing it down, a voice pierced the air. “Stay your hand!”
The crowd gasped and fell to their knees as a banner bearing the royal crest approached the platform. The prisoners were wrestled to their knees as a diminutive man sporting curly black hair walked onto the platform. He was flanked by a pair of armed men bearing the gold trimmed armour of the royal guard. The diminutive man came to a stop in front of Colnus, who was almost as tall as he even when kneeling, and glowered.
“Colnus Robrad, you are being executed for murdering my daughter in cold blood.” King Vilnus Argyris, ruler Athlos’ voice was soft, but it seemed to echo across the platform. “Have you anything to say for yourself?”
“I killed one to save the thousands taking sanctuary in the city that day,” Colnus replied. “I watched her grow from a baby into a fine young woman and to take her life was the most difficult thing I have ever done.”
“Enough!” Vilnus roared. “My people were prepared to die for their princess… I was prepared to die for her. And so were you, or so you swore.”
“She made me see the light,” Colnus said sadly. “She… she was too good for us.”
“So, even now, you refuse to admit you were wrong,” the king said through gritted teeth. “I’ve changed my mind. You will be the first to die today.”
“Guards!” the king roared as he whirled around.
“Oh, this complicates things,” Rol muttered to himself as the guards roughly hauled the still bawling prisoner off the block.
“There is no need,” Colnus said as the royal guard attempted to shove him towards the block.
Under his own strength and with immense dignity, Colnus walked over to the executioner and knelt, putting his head neatly across the block.
The executioner looked down at his next victim and took a deep breath before turning to the king. “Your Majesty, by your leave?”
“Do it,” the king snarled.
As the priest stepped forward, the king waved him away. “No, he is not worthy. He broke countless sacred oaths when he murdered my daughter!”
“With the greatest respect, that is for the Creator to decide, Your Majesty,” the priest said without fear before beginning to chant.
The king glared at the executioner, who shrugged helplessly.
Left with no choice, the king fumed as the priest completed his prayers. When he was done, the king snapped his fingers, and the executioner sighed.
“Finally, eh?” Rol heard the masked man say.
Colnus gave the executioner an astonished look as the king began to speak.
“Colnus Robrad, I condemn you to death,” the king’s voice was strained with emotion as he spoke. “May your soul rot in the Everburning Pits for the rest of eternity.”
The executioner raised his axe and poised it high over his head dramatically.
“I am prepared to pay for my sins,” Colnus said as he held his head over the block and looked out at the sun as it peeped over the horizon. “Ah, what a beautiful day.”
Several tense moments passed. Each felt like an eternity. However, the executioner didn’t strike. When he could take it no more, the king snapped.
“Get on with it, will you?”
The executioner glanced at Rol, who shrugged helplessly. Then, the boy heard a cough from the wagon and swiftly raised his hands, revealing that he had slipped free from his manacles.
“Stop this farce at once!” he cried.
Gasps came from the audience, and the guards were frozen in shock. What was this boy trying to accomplish? The platform and the surrounding square were swarming with guards. There was nowhere for him to run. Then, at the same time, the same sickening thought occurred to many of them. The more quick minded among them sprang into action and began to lunge at the prisoner who was standing furthest from the executioner’s block.
“King Vilnus, it is time you paid for your crimes!”
To their shock and horror, the announcement had come from the executioner. The guards who had begun to lunge for the boy scrambled to shield the king with their bodies. As they did, there was a loud whooshing sound as four balls the size of pebbles flew from the crowd. When they were over the executioner's block, they exploded, spewing thick, black smoke that obscured the platform from view. Then, pandemonium broke out.