How the Axe Falls

Chapter 2

Overlooking the bowl of mud, rain, and blood, that gathered together at the bottom of the hill by the Headsman's block, stood the village of Edge Cliff. Sagged was far more suitable a word, Talon thought. The buildings, made of wattle and daub, with peaked, thatched roofs, seemed to be almost sinking into the earth. A few of the houses were randomly dotted about the cliff top but most lined the wide dirt path, leading straight to Viscount Du Puis's tower.

The Viscount's Tower was a circular stone building, ridged at the top like a King's crown. It rose behind the Alehall at the end of the dirt track, leering over all else in Edge Cliff with glass eyes. A banner was fastened to the pole mounted atop the tower's peak. The golden hawk of Clovaine soared above a field of blue and red, rippling violently, as if the wind knew it didn't belong there.

Where the villagers bowed their heads and eyed the tower nervously out of the corner of their eyes, however, Talon watched its windows carefully. He wondered if the Viscount himself dared return this act of defiance.

'Don't look, you know it be bad luck, lad,' Uncle Jack gently pushed Talon's head down. I don't care how much stone you hide behind, Talon thought, wishing that his thoughts alone could be enough to crumble the building and drown its inhabitants in rocks. I'll make that tower your grave, I swear it.

On a warm Summer's day, the path would give rise to billowing clouds of dust that stung the villagers' eyes. But today, Talon and his Uncle found themselves trudging through a mire of sludge.

The two spoke very little on the way, though not for want of trying. The hesitant glances Uncle Jack sent his way were plentiful but whenever the man breathed sharply, as if to speak, his jaw would snap shut only a moment later.

Talon wondered if his Uncle thought he was as shocked as he, as his nephew's eyes flickered madly over Edge Cliff. They scoured every villager, every break on a roof's thatching, every frightened look, every blade of grass between the headsman's block and the cliff's edge. Uncle Jack watched him quietly then nodded to himself. Oh, Uncle. If only he knew his nephew had been scheming long before the axe's blade had caught the clouded, afternoon sun.

A startled yelp punctuated the rainfall followed by a growl so deep it would have seemed unlikely to have come from one of the villagers.

Yet, sure enough, they found the source of the commotion right next to Uncle Jack's house.

Buck Owens, who lived directly opposite them, held Eli Gil up with one hand, the little man's feet dangling helplessly above the ground.

Buck was an ox of a man. The short-sleeved tunic he wore seemed far too tight to be practical when ploughing the fields and barely restrained his thigh-size arms. His hair was cropped close to his scalp around the back and sides with a sandy plume rising against the top.

'I swear, I didn't!' Eli squeaked.

'I saw you staring at her, toad, what have I told you about-'

Noticing Jack and Talon coming up the road, Buck dropped Eli roughly against his fence and fixed Talon with a cold glare.

'What are ye' looking at?' he spat into the sludge path beside him, 'looking to join that Clovaine bitch on the block?'

'Flay me, Buck! What's wrong with ye'?' Uncle Jack's jaw swung in horror.

The realisation suddenly dawned on the man's face as he looked between Jack and Talon and he visibly paled. 'Uh... Jack... Talon,' the man said. He lowered his head when he came to Talon, unable to bring himself to meet the child's piercing blue eyes.