It's hot, I can feel my sweat drip from my temples to my chin. The cuts on my faces burn.
"HANG HIM" "WHIP HIM DEAD!" "BREAK HIM"
"BOIL HIM IN OIL" "CUT OFF HIS ARMS"
"BURN HIM" "PLUCK HIS EYES" "GUT HIM"
They're laughing. They were already shouting when the guard dragged me across my feet up the flight of stairs, my shin hitting the edge of each step. I could have walked if not for the short chain between my two ankles. I can barely see, they roughed me up before they dragged me out.
They're shouting different threats and torture methods just for the sake of entertainment. This is normal here in Rusal, a city in Ambrosia where most of the prisons are located. The city folk have witnessed at least one person hung, crucified or impaled everyday. It's nothing but fun for them. They join in the punishment, throwing rocks, glass and sometimes vials of oil, pig shit, monster extracts and goblin blood or feces.
The shouting intensifies as the guards chain me to a rock in front of a wide audience and joining them cheering for my demise. The scaffold where my noose is hung in a dead man's knot is just a walk away from where we are. They tear off what's left of the brown, rough cloth I wore since I arrived here, leaving my back exposed. The crowd roared as a man with a scroll walks in front, announcing my execution and reason being.
I rest my right cheek on the rock and listen to my final verdict. In a dictating, formal voice, the man shouts as he stands in the scaffolding
I give up. I can't hear him over the shouting and yelling. The man gave up and just threw the scroll, got down from the scaffolding and closed in on the guards "Just kill the bastard already!"
Louder. Louder. The crowd cheers even louder. One of the guards drags a long, spiked whip on the ground. He flings his hands in the air, to appeal to the roaring audience. He draws the whip back, his grip tightens on the black leather on the handle and whips my back.
"ARGH" I scream. The pain was unbearable, the thorns on the whip stuck to my back every hit and had to be torn off, removing a tiny piece of flesh from my bloody back.
"TWELVE! HAHAHAHHAHA"
The guard keeps counting and counting and whipping and whipping. My mind is numb.
All I can feel is the piercing, sharp pain of each hit and all I hear is the crowd cheering for more.
"TWENTY SEVEN!!"
I stopped myself from screaming. I held back my voice and bit my lip in agony. If I'm going to die, I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing my writhe. They can all eat shit.
"THIRTY THREE!!!"
How long has it been? 10 minutes? 20? The guard took his time and put in everything he had on each strike and was tired, so he had to switch with someone else. I haven't let out as much as a grunt since, I wish they just hung-
"AAGGHH" I screamed as I felt a wet, burning sensation. The guard laughed as he poured alcohol on the open wounds on my back. I'm losing breath, each second I struggle to keep it together, I just want it to end.
Everything turned white. I couldn't feel anything anymore. It's like my soul left my body, like I'm endlessly falling into the pits of hell. I don't even know how many times I've been whipped or how long it's been. Or have I already been strung up? Is this the afterlife? Will I finally rest?
Of course not. This isn't a children's fairy tale. This isn't a story of a man who was special, no. This is the story of a man who stuck his nose where it didn't belong. This is the story of a man who shouldn't have killed a noble mistreating his maid. That's right, I shouldn't have lifted my finger to help someone who did not even offer gratitude but instead call the guards on me.
My only regret was that I trained for nothing. An assassin? A freedom fighter? Utter bullshit. All I did was kill a nobleman and 6 guards, spat in the face of a Scion of the royal family. I clinged to the small possibility that I could make a difference but already I'm starting to regret my actions. I'm all talk. Even as my bonds are cut and my chains are broken, I'm nothing but a coward.
My chains, are broken?
I open my eyes to guards surrounding a woman with their spears forward, the man who was whipping me was on the ground gripping his neck as he choked on his own blood. The other two guards shot in the head with arrows and another impaled in his chest.
"HURRY AND TAKE HIM!"
A man with brown, baggy and ripped trousers with a sleeveless top carries me, being careful as to not touch or irritate the wounds on my back. "Are ya okay laddie?"
His big body frame and his accent speaks for itself. He's from the race of Dwarves, but he was tall for a dwarf. The sound of metal clashing and flesh being sliced and ripped takes my attention to the woman in front, who single handedly killed a squadron of guards. She sheathes her rapier but doesn't remove her palm from the handle.
"We must leave. More will come"
"I know, ya elven woman!" He carried me on his back like nothing and ran away from the scene. The woman followed behind us, looking at every direction as we take alleyways and tight routes after we fled away from the crowd. "Where do we go from here? This Gimp of a man is heavy as a barrel of scoops" The dwarf's accent was so heavy I couldn't understand, but I felt somewhat insulted.
The woman, her hand on her rapier, looks directly at me as we ran "Take the route near the Enten Woods, no royal scum would dare get near"
The dwarf grunted and complained "Yer goin' mad ya fleek! Those woods are not to be entered or even approached, unless ya want to anger Alan even further!" I can feel his panting.
"What do you suggest we do then?!" The woman shouts, irritated. The dwarf continues to pant and run as we exit the alleyway to an open street near the city gates. Guards in squadrons bustling around corners and patrolling alleyways. The gates were shut and guarded by the Armored Knights, the heavy duty tank squadron of the kingdom. They held axes in their right hand and shields in their left that cover their body, with shiny iron armor that has no weakspot.
"Egill!" the woman shouts, Egill grunts and looks back "Aye then! To the Ent-woods!" We run back to the alleyway we came from but took opposite turns that before. Not long we ended up in a terrace. as we run past a fountain as an arrow was shot and stuck to the ground and stopped us in our tracks. Guards surrounded Egill and the woman steps forward with her rapier drawn, ready to fight.
Bowmen took position in balconies and rooftops, armored guards blockade the small door frame that leads to the plains outside and soldiers with spears come face to face with the woman. "Damn Snakes!" Egill shouts, gritting his teeth. "What now, Ashryn?!" Egill calls out to Ashryn, the woman in front. She points the tip of her blade upwards, her body straight and her right leg forward as her left foot crossed backwards. A stance so elegant and beautiful, but also fierce. In a commanding tone, Ashryn shouts
"We break through!"