And eventually my Uncle Warrose comes to her side, careful not to get too close to DaiSzek. He’s the only one who cracks that hard exterior, getting through her heartbreak and panic.
“I don’t know how to let him go.”
My uncle holds her close.
They carry my father’s body away.
That patch of sand is stained in ruby red. The puddle of it seeps into the sand. And I can’t look away as we stay hidden far enough away to remain undetected.
I turn to Niklaus, hiding my face in his chest like a child frightened of the monsters hidden in the shadows of her closet. I can’t unhear her voice screaming. My Uncle Niles being burned alive. DaiSzek’s growls. My father’s body going limp.
I know it was all a setup.
But I never imagined it was so gruesome. So absolutely devastating. And my mother endured it all.
The Nightlung pulses behind my eyes, reeling me back into a sliver of an opening to another time.
And Niklaus falls with me.
46. The Executioners Game
Niles
We are forced to watchan execution once a week.
It keeps us in line. It keeps escape attempts to a minimum. It keeps trust from brewing, because too many captives are eager to tattle and receive a sweet treat for their loyalty.
My small friend, Renly, has perfected our routine at this point. He stays by my side and counts the number of times I tap my forearm with my index finger. I never actually keep track, but every time I stop and glance down at him, he mouths the number, and I make my best surprised face. Renly always smiles big, so proud of himself for always counting the right number.
And then when it’s time for our fellow captive to step off the block and hang with a broken neck or long, drawn out strangulation…Renly turns into my arm and hides his face, reciting the nursery rhyme native to his colony so he doesn’t hear the sound of bone snapping.
I do something similar. I go somewhere else. To a time when Dessin invented a best friend handshake with me for my birthday. The blatant annoyance on his face can still make me smile to this day. How he kept glancing at Skylenna for moral support. I remember the sense of victory when I had to slowly gain his respect and friendship while in that prison.
“It’s over, Mr. Niles,” Renly whispers, tugging on my shirt.
I scan the tall onyx pillars, leafless trees nearby, and the hanging body from the executioner’s block. A man, not much younger than me, with chestnut brown hair, deep smile lines, and kind eyes.
It’s warm day with a lightning storm looming above. Clouds so dark, they could pass for blasts of smoke and ash from an explosion.
“Did you look?” I ask Renly.
He shakes his head.
“Good man.” I pat him on the head. “Now, it’s nearly time for the big finale…”
Renly’s dark brown eyes light up with mischief. He smiles with determination, flashing me his dimples on either cheek.
“The villagers will throw magical rocks at us and yell enchanted spells. What do we do when this happens again?” I inquire.
Renly leans in so the guards won’t hear. “We put on our invisible shields and crouch low in the middle of the crowd, so we don’t get blasted with their magical rocks!”
Somehow, this part is much worse than turning away from the execution. As we pass the horizon of the East Vexello Mountains, there is a swarm of villagers who wait for us to pass in our dirty gray rags, huddled in a tight group because we all know what’s coming. How do I explain that to a child? These men and women are going to throw rocks at us now. Why? Because hurting us, humiliating us, it makes them all very happy. No, you didn’t do anything wrong. These are just evil, soulless people.
No. I’m going to make a game out of it to distract him.
Funneling through one of the villages, we come close to entering the well-guarded walls of the Blackspire Ward of The North. But just before we get to the onyx pikes dancing with lit torches, the villagers throw the stones. Renly and I huddle in the center of the other captives, crouching low as our eardrums are filled with grunts, moans, and shrieks from the downpour of rocks hitting bone. There’s a group of taller, muscular men and women who rotate every week to form an outer shell around the women, children and elderly.
I offered to take a turn on the outside, but they considered me elderly to which Itriednot to take offense at.
