The Story of Evil: Volume I - Heroes of the Siege (15 page)

Steve could hear someone giving a speech from the other side of the doors, but he could not hear what was being said. He heard the muffled sound of someone yelling out, but could not make out any of the words. There was a crackle of thunder followed by a flash of lightning that Steve saw from between the seam of the two doors. He heard cries from children, screams from women, and yelling from men in the crowd.

After a minute of more mumbling from the other side of the door, it opened. The yellow and orange sunset blinded Steve’s eyes. The change from the darkness of the dungeon cell to the bright light was painful. He couldn’t block his eyes with his hands because they were tied together behind his back. When he squinted to block out the sun, he saw tens of thousands of people standing before him. He was on the large platform in the huge castle courtyard. Hours before it had been a medical attention site for wounded civilians and warriors.

It seemed like every person in Celestial had been gathered here. Smoke pillars from fires rose to the sky from all over the city beyond the castle wall. There had to be hundreds of fires. After the sun went down, the entire city would still be lit as if the sun hadn’t left for the night.

The monsters had made a bonfire from the dead bodies of civilians that had been killed in the siege. The smell was sickening to Steve as he was pushed past it. Monsters were in the crowd keeping order, and there were monster guards with bows and arrows lined all along the top of the circular castle wall. There were many monsters, but there were so many more people. The dirt and soot stained faces of the civilians Steve looked down at were full of fear, tears, and anger.

As Steve was led forward onto the wooden gallows on the platform, he listened to the end of Prince Silas’s speech.

“It would be most profitable for you to you obey me and follow my commands to avoid these worries. I know that when you do, you will begin to feel an inner peace as you realize you are fulfilling your true purpose. However, if anyone should feel the need to fight back, flee the city, or disobey any of my or your superior’s orders, you will be forced to watch your entire family be tortured. Then you will be killed and end up just like your precious King Zoran and the many others who have died today. To show you what I mean, we have our first victim of insubordination. This warrior will be hanged for trying to assassinate me in my throne room.”

Steve was led up the wooden stairs of the gallows. The prince was already standing on them, smiling as he looked down on the defeated warrior. Steve was smiling too, but on the inside. He knew he was going to pass right by the prince.
What do I have to lose?

Even though his hands were tied, Steve lunged forward and head butted the prince in the chest. Silas stumbled backwards, saving himself right before he fell off the back of the gallows. Visuvis struck Steve in the back with the large ruby on the end of Brightflame. Steve fell to his knees from the blow. The prince came forward and swiftly brought his armored knee up. It hit Steve right under the chin. Steve was almost knocked out, but he refused to give any satisfaction to the betrayer of the kingdom. Steve simply looked up at the prince and smiled as a waterfall of blood came out of his mouth.

Prince Silvanus was furious that Steve was seemingly unaffected. He struck Steve across the face with the back of his gauntleted hand.

“What’s one more bruise after a hundred?” Steve laughed, even though his entire body was in terrible pain.

“What’s one more death after ten thousand?” Silas answered in a cocky response. He motioned for Visuvis to lead the rebellious warrior to the center of the gallows, onto a piece of wood that would soon fall away underneath Steve’s feet.

Everyone could see him from the high stage he was on.

Steve had no sackcloth over his head, which was one of the universal unwritten requirements of a hanging. No covering showed a lack of respect for order from the monsters and their two Human leaders.

The prince wants people to see my face contort as I struggle to hold onto my waning life.
Steve also took note that the rope was not very long. A long rope meant a long drop, which meant a quick death because of a snapped neck. The short rope meant this hanging would be prolonged by possibly a couple minutes, until his lungs ran out of air. It was yet another subliminal message from the Hooded Phantom and the prince, telling the civilians that this new change of order would not be quickly ended, but prolonged and painful.

Steve still wore his red armor. He shifted uncomfortably as some of the dents in the armor pressed hard into his body. Steve thought the monsters would take the armor from him in the cell, but they hadn’t. Prince Silas must have felt that people needed to know a warrior was being hung and not just some random civilian. And not just any warrior either, but the one who defeated him in the exhibition joust.

Steve felt the worst he had ever felt in his life. Between the jousting in the morning, the battles since the jousting ended, and the recent beatings by Visuvis, he had cuts and bruises all over his face and body. Even worse than that was the pain of knowing that in a few moments he would be dead.

The feeling of not being in control was one of Steve’s worst fears. As he stood on the trapdoor, he felt alone, powerless, and defeated.
There is no escape from this.
He would soon be dead, just like the three great role models of his life, King Zoran, the Supreme Commander, and Sir Thatcher. All were great men of character who were brutally murdered. Great legacies of wisdom and valiance had been ended in an instant.

The prince himself tied the noose around Steve’s neck. He tied it so tightly that Steve wondered if he would die from asphyxiation before he was hanged. At least he was able to partially breathe the smoky air into his lungs. Steve looked over at the prince, who walked to the lever that would drop the trapdoor beneath his feet. He was playing with the suspense of the crowd, who nervously watched.

Steve looked up and saw a bright red object hovering in the sky. He thought he heard a deep roar come from it, but wasn’t quite sure. Steve looked around, but no one in the crowd was looking up. Neither was Visuvis or Prince Silas who were both standing near him.

The only one that did notice was Nightstrike, who was perched on the tip of one of the front castle towers. The enormous black scaled dragon looked up, as Steve had, and was squinting, trying to make out the object. His nose was quickly inhaling, trying to use the dragon’s ability of heightened senses to catch a scent of the creature. He must have smelled something because the Dark Dragon screeched, abandoned the tower top he was perched on, and chased after the flying object.

The Hooded Phantom, standing on a castle balcony behind Steve also noticed the hovering red object among the clouds, but only after he watched his dragon take off after it.

Was that who I think it was?
Even though it was far away, Steve thought it looked like the great fire red dragon that King Zoran supposedly rode in his victorious battle against Draviakhan.

Crimson Singe?

The legend of Oliver Zoran versus Draviakhan was one Steve had seen depicted through many artistic mediums from plays to paintings. It was the last painting in the staircase of the King’s Tower before the walls went blank. Steve had heard the story countless times among the warriors. Everyone had imagined themselves as the triumphant young man singlehandedly killing the greatest monster to ever walk on Element. The story had so many incarnations that no one knew what had really happened. But every story contained Crimson Singe aiding the king in his quest of vengeance against Draviakhan.

It can’t be him. It must be flashes of a story from my childhood manifesting itself before my eyes, so close to my impending death.
Steve convinced himself that what he saw could not have been the mythological beast. It was rumored that the dragon had died from injuries it had sustained in the battle against the Imperial Dragon.

Steve looked up again. The red shape was zipping across the sky like a comet. Nightstrike was unsuccessfully trying to catch up to it. The Dark Dragon wanted to confirm who he thought it was as much as Steve did.

Steve gazed at the pink sky, the scattered vanilla clouds, and the bright yellow-orange sun which had all but disappeared from the horizon. It was a beautiful sight to behold. He wasn’t looking at the crumpled buildings, the burning fires and smoke in the distance, or the monsters that were seemingly everywhere. Steve stared at the beauty and serenity of the sunset as it cast an orange sparkling reflection over the water. Soon he would disappear as well, just like how the deep blue Darien Sea was swallowing up the giant sunset fireball.

Steve thought about the good and blessed life he had been given. He looked out into the crowd. He lived for all of these faces as a warrior. He was their friend, their protector. He enjoyed waking up in the morning and was excited to go to work.

How has it all come to this? I just had the greatest month of my entire life. It started with earning the honor to represent Celestial by winning the Qualifiers, then the celebration with my neighborhood the following day. That night I defeated the prince in the exhibition joust. The outpouring of support was amazing. Yesterday began with the parade, followed by advancing through the tournament. Today I made it all the way to the semifinals match, and was appointed a Guardian Knight (albeit temporary) but now…

Steve noticed someone in the crowd raise up their arm and put two fingers into the air. Another person on the other side of the courtyard copied the gesture. More arms started going up faster and faster; until soon every single person in the courtyard was holding up two fingers in the air.

They all saw his red armor. The majority of the people knew the man about to be hung was Celestial’s jouster, but even if they didn’t, they joined in with everyone else on this amazing gesture. Tears welled in Steve’s eyes as this was one of the most moving sights he had ever seen.

The people of Celestial were united as one. No matter what was going to happen in the upcoming reign of evil, Steve knew that they would all stick together. That’s was just how the people of this city were. They were strong and good-hearted - just like the one who created them.

The beauty of the sunset was stunning, but the sight of the people of Celestial united as one was absolutely breathtaking. Steve allowed it to be the last sight he ever saw as he closed his eyes and said a quick prayer.

God, you give every life, and you allow it to be taken away. I thank you for giving me life and for the time on Element you have blessed me with. Thank you for the good memories I take with me. I made many friends and few enemies. But the enemies I have made have defeated me as I stand here now. I am just one of many people who died today, God, but together we all cry out to you that the innocent lives still alive in this plaza would be protected from evil. I ask that a hero would rise and defeat the men and monsters that caused so much pain to your creations today.

As Steve ended his prayer, he kept his eyes closed. All he could see was the darkness of the back of his eyelids.

He heard a slight creak as Prince Silvanus pulled the lever and the trapdoor dropped.

Then Steve fell. If it wasn’t for the rope tied around his neck, Steve’s feet would have touched the ground.

But they never did.

Chapter 13

Tyrus Canard sat alone in a sea of red and blue banners. The majority of the crowd was wildly waving Celestial’s colors, drowning out the few people who wore yellow as they cheered for Cyrus from Casanovia.

It was one of the most beautiful days of the year. The sun was peeking in and out of the fluffy white clouds. The air was a comfortable temperature with a slight breeze. The smell of various animal meats drenched in different barbecue sauces filled the stands as people ate them on sticks.

As Ty looked around, he couldn’t find anyone who wasn’t smiling. Maybe it was the jousting; maybe it was the beautiful weather; or maybe it was just the peaceful state of the kingdom, but everyone was happy. Ty leaned back in his seat and smiled to himself. This was one of the times in his life where he realized that he was in a moment of complete happiness.

Ty heard the voice of a small boy in front of him.

“Mom, can I get some cotton clouds, please?”

A pot-bellied Dwarven vendor in a greasy apron walked up the bleachers, getting closer and closer to the little boy’s row. The halfman sang out the names of the foods he was selling to all of the spectators. He loudly and emphatically stressed the last syllable of each item, making it seem like his list of food was a song.

“Turkey Legs…Sausage…Rainbow Lollipops…Meat or Fruit Skewers…Cotton Clouds.”

The Dwarf vendor stopped and looked down the row the seven-year-old boy sat in. Sam could have sworn the man looked right at him, and yelled out “Cotton Clouds” while holding up a bag for him to see. Sam had asked his mom, but she hadn’t answered. He started to ask again, assuming she hadn’t heard because of the noisy arena. As soon as he opened his mouth, she gave him the answer he didn’t want to hear.

“No. Samuel, we spent enough gold so we could watch from these seats. You’ll have to wait until we get back home to eat.”

“But mom, this is the only place where we can get cotton clouds,” Sam said, dragging out the word mom.