Talon the Black (Dragonwall Series # 1)

Chapter 59 - The Execution

Kastali Dun

Reyr did not move, not even to shift his feet. He stood as still as stone, hands clasped behind his back. If he appeared at ease, he was anything but. His fellow Shields stood upon the platform beside him, and before them, King Talon. Everything was ready: the high block, the axe, the executioner, and the crowd. All that remained was the spectacle.

He turned his gaze to the threatening sky before bringing it down upon the gathered audience. Men, women, and children stood in wait. The rich and the poor were assembled. Many had come. He disapproved of the fairer sex witnessing the event. And children? They were far too young to see such things—too young to understand. The excited buzz of voices told them something worthwhile was about to happen, so they displayed the same eagerness.

He heard cries from the peddlers, "Buns for sale! Three steelies each! Cheap ale, too!" This was good for business—for the peddlers. People craved entertainment.

He was glad of Claire's confinement. As a safe measure, he had locked her door. She was stubborn enough to find herself disguised within the crowd. The possibility forced his regard upon the sea of faces. He picked through them, looking for a flash of green eyes, or a hint of golden hair. But that was impractical. He'd used more than a key to ensure her door would not open. She did not need to witness the deaths of men whose names she had given.

Gemma would have approved of his caution. Gods! Why did he think of her so often? Why now? Hundreds of years allowed her name to sink into the depths of his soul. Claire's sudden appearance had unburied what should have stayed down. She was too much like Gemma, and in ways that were unfair to his heart.

"Make way!" A powerful voice lifted above the rest. Captain Jonah appeared. The captain was an older fellow, but his age in no way hindered him. Well seasoned, having lived through the Gobelin Wars, he commanded the keep's guard with honor.

"In the name of the king—I say—make way!" He led his soldiers forward through the crowd as if in battle, and in a sense, it was. Their shields and spears pressed and pushed, vying for space. At last the onlookers fell back. An aisle formed. Through that passage came the traitors, surrounded by soldiers. These weren't the first traitors Captain Jonah led to the chopping block, but they were certainly the worst.

Traitors deserved no recognition. Allowing them their identity was a form of praise. Their faces were covered with black cloth sacks. Their bodies however, were left uncovered. This nakedness illustrated their shame.

He clenched his jaw. The true shame was, Euen Doyle and Stefan Rosen could not appreciate the gravity of the situation, for they were too incoherent. They would not despair. They would not weep during their last moments. They would not pay a fair price for their deceit. There wasn't enough of them left.

As they passed through the crowd with their guards, the gathered masses screamed gleefully. They pointed. They laughed. They snarled and called. Little good it did. The traitors were too senseless to understand. The audience was impatient, and even eager, but not he. He took no joy in death, no matter how well deserved. He would be glad when this ended.

Guards filed onto the platform. The noise elevated to new heights; the naked, faceless men were presented to the crowd. Still he did not move. Talon stepped forward, lifting his hands. A hush fell upon them. "Citizens of the crown," he said, his voice echoing. The city's square—where all public executions took place—was surrounded by buildings on all sides. "There are traitors in our midst!"

Disgusted cries came from the crowd. "Traitor!" someone screeched. "Traitor!" others repeated.

"The two men before you have betrayed us. In so doing, they have betrayed the gods. What is the just punishment for their crimes?"