Deathsworn Arc: The Last Dragon Slayer

by Martyn Stanley

  ~

  Execution

  When Votrex awoke the next day, Saul, Harald and Korhan had already risen. They’d all left their cloaks hanging up in such a way that the fire might dry them, though in truth the rain had been so heavy, that the driest of their clothes were still damp, their over-cloaks sodden. ‘Ahhh, you’re up,’ Saul called out to him. ‘The innkeeper has agreed for us to stable our horses here until we’re ready to leave. I’ve also had several flasks filled with mead; I do not trust the water in this town.’

  Votrex swung his stumpy legs over the edge of the bed and launched himself upright. ‘Good, we should get some bread and cured meats for the journey, I don’t want to be forced to stop and hunt.’

  Harald and Korhan murmured agreement and the four warriors left the room. After walking through the inn, they briefly checked on their horses before exiting the stables via the courtyard into the main square. The sun was shining, the rain had subsided, but in its wake it had left deep muddy streets. The square was cobbled, but the downpour had washed so much silt out of the side streets onto it, it wasn’t much better. In the light of day, the buildings surrounding the square looked tired and in disrepair. Many of them appeared to be abandoned and empty. Korhan paused, casting his eyes about the square. ‘What happened to this place?’

  ‘Decline, Korhan,’ Saul began, ‘this town was prosperous once, or so they say. Before my time though. I suspect the recent trials facing the Empire are at least partly to blame. We may be on the fringes of its influence here, but the effects the continuing attacks on the border by orcs from Gharzbad have been far-reaching and harsh.’

  Votrex kicked the slippery cobbles with his boots. ‘I have to say wizard, irrespective of the state of the town – nights like last night remind me of why it is good to live underground.’

  Harald chuckled, stepping past him. ‘Yes, the weather was foul last night. Yet however vile the weather, I would not give up feeling the wind on your face. Rubbing the rain from your eyes makes you feel alive.’

  ‘Or cold and wet!’

  Harald shrugged and they strode after Korhan and Saul who’d set off towards the butcher’s shop. As they traversed the outer edge of the square, people started gathering around the raised platform in the centre. Something was happening.

  As they neared the butcher’s shop, the companions realised exactly what was happening. A basket was being carried onto the raised platform, along with a heavy wooden chopping block. Following the watchmen carrying the basket and the block was a third man, bearing a large axe with a straight-edged blade.

  One of the town’s watchmen noticed them eyeing up the proceedings and addressed them. ‘Execution day today. Should be a good one, we’ve got five.’

  Saul grimaced at him in disgust. ‘Five? What in Ishar’s name are these poor wretches accused of doing?’

  The watchmen thought for a moment. ‘Well, we’ve got two cut purses, two burglars, and an interesting one, a gravian would you believe?’

  Votrex raised an eyebrow at this. ‘A dark elf?’

  The watchman nodded. ‘Yep, one of the farmers caught him sneaking around in his orchard. Ah, here they come.’

  While the watchman spoke, a caged wagon drawn by two horses rolled into the square, up to the platform. Sure enough, in the cart there sat four obvious men, who wore the expressions of guilty, regretful men. The gravian cowered at the back, sitting away from the others. He had dark blue-grey skin and long pointed ears, poking out through his hair.  He appeared thin, almost emaciated, and his long black hair and beard were matted and straggly. His eyes glowed red, beyond his sharp, angular nose. He seemed to be in a sorry state, suffering from malnutrition.

  Korhan screwed his face up at the watchman. ‘What crime has the dark elf committed?’

  The watchman shrugged. ‘None that we know of, but it would only be a matter of time. At the very least he might be a spy; we can’t allow him to live.’

  They walked on, bearing unsettling thoughts about the poor individual’s fate. Dark elves were even rarer than dwarves in Torea, almost unseen. Korhan frowned at Saul. ‘I thought gravians were but a legend, a story to scare children with.’

  Saul stroked his beard while eyeing the creature. ‘Little is known about them or their culture. I have heard rumours about them, some well-known works of arcane literature are credited to them. I have heard no reports of gravians braving the surface, I suspect none have surfaced in decades if not centuries. They are reputed to be skilled warriors and powerful magicians, as they would need to be, to survive in the underdeep. They say the gravians have built magnificent cities, which rival the cities of the elves, deep under the ground, though I doubt any human has visited them. I fear Votrex, that this individual is being executed for fear and mistrust alone.’

  The gravian did have inhuman, sinister features, but in his current state he didn’t seem much of a threat to anyone. Watching guilty criminals executed was bad enough, but an innocent being? The rarity of the dark elf also tugged at their conscience. It was not right for a creature to be killed simply on the grounds of belonging to a particular race.

  While the others watched the sad procession passing, Korhan, ever practical, stepped into the butchers, speaking over his shoulder. ‘I’ll get the meats, wait here.’  He disappeared into the shop.

  Votrex glared at Saul. ‘We can’t let them execute the gravian!’

  Saul sighed, looking troubled. ‘I agree with your sentiment Votrex, but I fear there’s not much we can do. There was a time when all of these men would have repented their crimes in the town gaol or the stocks, then walked free. I fear the cost of keeping them, and the growing number of men who are forced to turn to crime in order to feed their families means the Berger of the town has little choice but to let the axe fall. We could perhaps speak to him. I can try to use my influence as an emissary of the Empress but-’

  He was cut off by the sight of Silus Mendelson trudging through the mud towards them. He had a grave expression on his face. Now, in the daylight his damaged face was clearly visible. His hair appeared to have been burned off in places and instead of two eye sockets, he had one, and a scarred lump of flesh in place of his left eye, only partially covered by the patch. As he approached he noticed Saul, Harald and Votrex looking at his scarred face. ‘Hah! Dragon breath! I wasn’t even anywhere near at the time. Can you imagine how it feels to have your eyeball boil and vaporise in an instant? I would have been killed if not for a well brewed potion and managing to get to the healer in time.’

  Saul studied Silus for a moment before looking into his good eye. ‘Then why are you here?’

  Silus gritted his teeth. ‘I was too hasty last night. The ale perhaps got the better of me. You’re right. I want to live, living hand to mouth here in Trest, isn’t living. You only truly appreciate the value of life when someone is trying to take it from you. I need to experience that again, even if it means riding on a fool’s errand. I do not want to end my days a pauper and a drunk.’

  The shadow of a man, slurring and drunk, whom Saul had met in the alehouse the night before was gone. Now sober, Silus stood tall and confident. His piercing, solitary eye sparked with intelligence. He may have seemed a lost cause in the alehouse, now he looked like a useful ally.

  Saul smiled softly and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Good. What do you need?’

  ‘A horse, a weapon... A long sword and a spear I think. Armour and shields are of no use against a dragon, they offer no protection and merely encumber you. Too many men discovered that twenty years ago.’

  Saul turned to Harald. ‘Harald, take Silus, procure him a steed, and weapons, then meet us back here.’ Harald nodded and walked off with Silus in the direction of the blacksmith’s.

  A few moments later Korhan emerged from the butcher’s shop carrying wrapped packages of dried, cured meat. Votrex was still muttering. ‘This isn’t right. We can’t let them kill him! ‘

  Korhan gazed at the miserable looking gravian, sq
uatting in the straw awaiting his fate. ‘No, you’re right, we can’t let them execute the gravian. Saul, we can get bread later, let’s find the Berger and try to use your influence to free him.’

  Saul nodded. ‘The gravian may not thank us. I know little if anything of gravians, but I agree, we can’t allow these people to execute an innocent being, even if he is a dark elf.’

  At this point, an unusually healthy looking white steed rode into the square, its rider a tall, fair-haired man with a neatly trimmed beard. He wore an iron band upon his head and was wrapped in a fine, brown fur cloak.

  Saul watched him ride into the square. ‘That must be the Berger.’

  The horse trotted to the centre, flanked by six soldiers on similar, though less splendid looking steeds, three on either side. The Berger and the soldiers dismounted onto the platform and waited for a sturdy wooden chair to be carried on, and put in place. As it was being brought, Saul, Korhan and Votrex pushed their way through the crowds. By the time they were at the bottom of the steps, the Berger had sat down. The companions climbing the steps attracted the attention of the guards, who drew their weapons and brandished them. ‘Halt! No peasants on the platform!’

  Saul leaned on his staff. ‘My name is Saul Karza, emissary of Empress Jade, blessed be her name. I would speak with the Berger of this town as a matter of urgency.’ The guards seemed unsure of Saul; one chanced a glance at the Berger, who waved them forwards.

  Boldly, Saul, Korhan and Votrex strode towards the Berger. He wore an expression of smug arrogance. He inspected each of them in turn. ‘Well, well, what have we here? If your intention is to join these vagabonds on the block you are going the right way about it. Who’d have imagined – a chance to execute a gravian and a dwarf on the same day?’

  Saul looked him square in the eye. ‘My name is Saul Karza, emissary of the Empress. I respectfully request that you spare the gravian’s life. I will take custody of him.’

  The Berger yawned. ‘I respectfully decline your request Saul Karza, I wish to know the colour of his blood.’

  Saul leaned forwards. ‘Then I demand you release him. Would you defy the Empress?’

  More soldiers had boarded the platform, all had their weapons drawn. Saul glanced around; the Berger chuckled smugly at Saul. ‘You’re a fool, your status is worth nothing here. I could order you all killed and nobody would ever know why you didn’t return. I refuse your demands, now either leave the platform and go in peace, or take your place with the condemned and allow me to relieve you of your heads.’

  The atmosphere felt tense; the enraptured crowd had grown silent. But after a few moments of inaction, the crowd began getting restless again, jeering and shouting. The dark elf had started to show them some attention, raising his head and following the conversation from within the cage.

  The soldiers appeared poised to strike; even reaching for a weapon might ignite a fight. Saul paused, considering his options, then bowed slightly. ‘As you wish Berger, I’m sure the Empress will understand your decision to refuse her authority.’

  ‘Hah! The Empress will not care for the life of one gravian. If you speak again, I will assume you wish to join the condemned, now go away, or place your neck upon the block.’

  With that, Saul, Votrex and Korhan turned to leave the platform. Votrex was seething, Saul wore a definite frown on his face. Korhan paused as he downed the steps and looked into the eyes of the gravian. Those eyes burned with a soft fire, a glow that was going out. He’d given up.

  Barging their way through the jeering crowd, Korhan growled at Saul. ‘I’ll not leave him. An innocent being should not die like this!’

  Saul shook his head. ‘I agree, but I fear there is little we can do.’

  Korhan glared at him. ‘Get your horses, start riding north. Look, here come Harald and Silus.’

  Votrex’s eyes narrowed. ‘What are you going to do? I want to help!’

  ‘If you want to help, start riding, if this doesn’t go well, I’d rather the quest succeeded without me.’

  Saul grabbed his shoulder. ‘Korhan! The Empress would not want you to put yourself at risk for a gravian, we’ve done all we can!’

  He shrugged Saul’s grasp away. ‘Get riding, wizard! Ride north, as if the spectres of the abyss were snapping at your heels!’ He pulled away and barged towards the stables where the horses were kept. Saul, fearing there was no reasoning with Korhan obeyed and the party, including Harald and Silus, mounted their steeds and rode for the gates at a quick trot.

  Korhan had mounted his steed and watched his companions riding quickly away from the square. The cage had been opened. The prisoners were being pulled out of the cage and lined up. From the administrative building a man in a black hood approached, clearly, he was the executioner.

  Saul, Votrex, Harald and Silus were quickening their pace. They were riding faster and faster towards the town gates. Silus glared at Saul. ‘What’s the hurry?’

  ‘Korhan is going to do something foolish, or so I believe. He doesn’t think it is right that a person be executed solely because of their race.’

  ‘The gravian? If ever I met a more sinister looking individual. We should leave him, let his head roll. I wouldn’t trust a dark elf.’

  Korhan trotted around the outer edge of the square. The dark elf seemed to have been selected to be first and was being manhandled towards the chopping block by the soldiers, his hands bound behind his back. The truth was, the gravian didn’t put up much of a fight. His sad glowing eyes fell on Korhan, as the crowd jeered, egging the executioner on. The executioner picked up his axe and approached the block, then slowly, carefully lined his axe up against the dark elf’s neck. He clearly took pride in his profession, and intended to make a clean cut.

  Brael, for that was the dark elf’s name felt the rough wooden chopping block beneath his neck, the sticky wood stank of dried blood. He gazed sadly into the straw filled basket sitting on the floor to catch his head and mused that at least he had clean straw to land in.

  The executioner tried his swing softly a couple of times; then he lifted his axe, pulling it high above his head. As he did, though, Korhan had reached over his shoulder and drawn his great sword. Few warriors would be capable of wielding a blade like Korhan's sword in one hand, but that he did. One hand on the reins, one holding his sword he turned his horse into the crowd, and charged at the platform. Everything was a blur, the crowd parted in panic as Korhan galloped through them. His horse leapt onto the platform, skidding on the smooth wooden planks as it landed. The executioner turned in astonishment, only to watch Korhan's blade whip through the air and clip the axe just under the head, causing the wood to splinter and the axe to tumble through the air and crash onto the boards, the head barely connected to the shaft. The soldiers approached, swords drawn. Korhan swung his horse around, using the beast’s heavy rump to sweep the soldiers off the platform, sending them tumbling into the crowd. The Berger was screaming at the top of his voice. The executioner had drawn a dagger, and appeared to be about to slash the gravian’s throat as he rose awkwardly from the block. But as the executioner prepared to make the fatal slash, the dark elf caught him unawares with a backwards head butt, crushing the executioner’s nose, making it explode under his hood, filling his eyes with blood. In one quick motion Korhan sheathed his sword, reached down, and plucked up the dark elf by the scruff of his neck and planted him chest down behind him on his steed. The executioner staggered backwards and tumbled off the platform into the crowd.

  As the soldiers were getting to their feet, Korhan snapped his reins and charged off the platform, causing the crowd to flee in panic again.

  The sound of trumpets rasped behind him, as did the thunder of hoof beats. With one hand on the reins and one hand holding the gravian down on his horse, he thundered through the muddy streets. The trumpets had been heard and the gates to the town were being closed. Korhan lashed his reins and slipped through, just before the gap grew too small. In the distance he glimpsed his com
panions riding, and as he charged after them he screamed. ‘Ride! They’re after us!’

  Chapter 3