Martyr

Introduction:

Martyr

 

 ‘A howl screamed in the distance, the moon was blocked by the black clouds that blanketed the night’s sky. The water fell from the blackness and the wind whipped and lashed the rain onto the faces of the people; men, women, children stood at my side, all came to see this dreaded event. We stood in rows upon rows as an audience paying tribute to the life of the great one. ‘Great’, a term used too often in the past, but this man, this Demi, truly was great. Some say he fell from the heavens, others say he is born from the souls of the dead; I say he is a human, and a martyr for our sins.

 You see, years ago, in the Great Battle of the Plains, a word was sent forth from the messenger that a man walked amongst the dead. This is why they say death gave birth to the great one. In the mist and in the blood, Demi knelt at each brave soldier’s ear and whispered a prayer to their souls. No one knows his prayer; no one knows the words of wisdom that is said to guide them to peace, many have feigned hearing, a few try and speculate but these words will not reach your ears unless you have passed in battle.

 The chamberlain took centre stage and read from a parchment he held against the rain.

 “Unknown, Demi. Is hereby sentenced to death for the following acts of crime; theft, murder, arson and treason. Bring him out,” each crime struck my heart like an arrow shot from a Winch Warrior’s bow and received a gasp from the crowd.

 A man held in a cage of steel was wheeled to the gallows on a wagon pulled by a horse. The people around me pushed the guards ahead to release the prisoner from his cage; their protests were met from the shine of the blades held at their throats. The cage was unlocked and the man wrenched from his captivity into the arms of his executioner. Fully bearded and scarcely clothed he stood, withered and thin. His sunken blue eyes seemed to sparkle at his audience, an aura of grace and peace exploded from every pore. Demi was a man, a man about to die for those who doubted. Demi was a figure of freedom, his name dirtied in the ash of the fire of hatred. This isn’t what he wanted, but for his people, it was a price he was more than willing to pay.

 Demi was made to kneel at a block of wood, a basket just in front. The executioner sharpened his axe for all to see. The chamberlain spoke once more;

 “Demi, do you have any last words?”

 The he spoke, the words rang in my ears as his voice filled my body with warmth;

 “I do not fear death, I fear a cage. I am a warrior of freedom. Live your lives as I have lived mine, and you shall die in peace, no matter the circumstance.” The great one placed his head on the block without hesitation or fear; he held his arms wide and waited. I closed my eyes and winced at the chop of the axe, followed by a dull thud as Demi’s head rolled of the wooden block and into the basket.

 My heart sank, my shoulders slumped, somehow the cold wind felt that little bit more cold. The world seemed dark to me now. No more light. I felt a connection with Demi; after all, I am the one who found him.’

An excerpt from the Diary of Darius Cane.