A Kingdom of Bones

II | two

My father's blood splatters against me, the coppery scent of it filling my nose. My mother jumps and my sister screams, both of them having been sprayed with blood as well.

I can hear my father choking, not quite dead yet. He even goes to stand, his body convulsing like electricity is being shot through his system. The executioner brings the club down a second time, the force slamming my father's head back into the stone under his body, causing blood to splatter in our direction once more. And this time, my father does not move.

Still, the executioner slams the weapon down, smashing my father's head into bits of skull and flesh. That's when I start to scream, more blood dripping onto my navy dress, leaving behind dark splotches of red. Images of my father alive and well dance behind my eyes, and I realize my memory will now be the only place I will see his face again.

The executioner finally finishes his brutal assault, using the fabric of his silver sleeve to wipe away the sweat and blood from his forehead. My sister turns away to vomit, her bile splashing against the knights that stand too close, but they don't seem to notice. My mother is silent, but her face speaks volumes, as it is twisted simultaneously in both disgust and anger. Everything else is silent past Celeste's tortured noises, but suddenly, a voice echoes through the crowd, "Death to the Queen!"

A series of battle cries break out and I hear the scraping of metal as the knights draw their swords, their confusion clear as they scan the crowd for the offender, but the citizens look just as confused as the Queen's men.

Suddenly, many robed people dive into the crowd from every direction, weapons drawn and poised. The executioner and Bentley go still on the stage, their faces twisted in surprise at how fast the tables have turned.

Quickly recovering from his shock, Bentley opens his mouth to give orders, but an arrow flies through the air and embeds itself into the eye socket of the spokesman. I watch in both shock and sadistic happiness as the life fades from his face and as he falls to a limp heap on the stage, the Queen's number one adviser gone in the blink of an eye. The sight is surprising, but it makes me feel nothing except a sick joy. This man had just sentenced my father to death and forced my family to watch. And now his Queen will hear of his demise.

But a pissed Queen means dead people.

The crowd oorahs in unison, transforming from curious citizens to soldiers in seconds as the robed people inspire a full-fledged rebellion. They surge forward, some of them pulling out weapons and letting out battle cries, others running with raised fist and snarls. There are the few who flee in terror, but trying to escape this crazed mass of people is like running up a raging river, impossible and dangerous.

All of the noise and the jostling is enough to bring me back to reality, but I can only cling to my mother, my eyes scanning the angry faces in the crowd through the haze of my tears. Seeing them, teeth barred and weapons raised, ready to kill, shows how fast a person can transform into a bloodthirsty killer when provoked, and for some, even when they are not.

The knights and the executioner jump from the stage and start swinging their weapons, one nearly slicing off my ear. I duck with a scream, my mother doing the same. Several men, wearing all black and with hoods over their heads, emerge from the crowd. They meet the knights head on, the sound of metal on metal scraping my ear drums. Panic seizes me, coming close to engulfing the rage and sadness of my father's premature death, making my limbs shake and my heart race. I frantically take in my surroundings to find a safe way to bolt, my eyes immediately catching on the empty stage. We have an advantage at the edge of the crowd. Since we have an unmoving slab of wood at our backs, we have a chance to escape without facing the rebels. I latch onto my mother's sweaty hand and yank her towards me, "The stage!" I shout as I dig my nails into her palm, trying to get her to look at me. Her swollen eyes meet mine and she nods, allowing me to turn our backs on the battle. I start to climb, my grip nearly slipping in the sticky puddle of blood. I gag at the feeling of the liquid against my fingers, my heart skipping a beat as my brain once more replays the scene of my father's murder. I nearly jump away from the stage at the sight flashing behind my eyes, but I force myself to focus. My father is dead, but sister, mother and I are not. We have to get out of here.