The saviour

The gravel beneath me looks grimier than I remember. Different perspective, I guess. To my right is even more grime as the angry mob thirst for my blood, holding torches and pitchforks as they remain adamant to see to the end of the town’s latest thief.

The cold steel of the executioner's unforgiving axe presses on the nape of my neck, threatening my life with just it's weight. I glance up at the executioner's equally unforgiving face. His dark features and muscular frame allows him to wield the massive axe and behead people with the same force and dexterity as his deadly alias; The Guillotine.  

As a  previous audience to public executions, I know that my death will be swift and sure, my head rolling at the first sign of sunset. It's all very routine, someone commits a crime, refuses to tell on his accomplices, is sentenced to death because of this and at the end of it all, they're beheaded. My situation is a tad different though, as I would have tattled if my accomplice were anyone other than the very man that sentenced me to death.

I look at Count Emery sitting contentedly on his little throne, satisfied that he has yet again escaped the consequences of his actions. After all, who would people believe between a little truant and the town role model? He returns my hot glare coolly, acting as though he were truly a just man about to deliver justice to a lowly criminal.

That's when it hit me, I am not the first person to be in this position, neither will I be the last. I should have known something was amiss when he insisted that I took his share of the stolen gold to an abandoned warehouse in the forest rather than his house. How he managed to convince the village that I had sold the gold and spent all the money, I have no idea.

The villagers are all fools anyway, it'd be a not too difficult feat. We hold each other's gaze for a few minutes before he cast his eyes elsewhere. It seems he still has a sliver of a  conscience. Sunset comes and The Guillotine doesn't miss a beat. He hoists the heavy axe in the air effortlessly and targets my neck. I close my eyes, readying myself for the inevitable. The evening breeze gently strokes my face and I wonder what's taking him so long, he couldn't have changed his mind, could he. I open an eye an glance at him.

A red arrow is embedded deep between his eyes, decorating his rather drab mask. His lifeless arms can no longer support the axe and the weight makes him fall backwards with a loud thud.

The collective gasp of the crowd when more arrows find their way to the skulls of Emery's guards, confirms that I am not dreaming.  I have to act quickly, and years of skipping lunch have given me the perfect body for wiggling out of manacles and chains.

 Jonathan was true to his word, he has come to save me. I am elated but also alert, Guards suddenly come out of nowhere, armed to the teeth and ready to end my saviour and his crew. Screaming commences as arrows begin to fly in opposite directions causing ultimate disarray.

Scared witless, I dash behind a barrel hoping that one of Jonathan's men finds and rescues me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Emery running up and down, unable to find a way out of the pandemonium. The rage I feel in that instant is mind numbing and I don't know when I reach for a dead guard's sword and dash madly at him. He sees me running towards me and readies himself.

He may be an entitled fiend, but he wields a sword more skillfully than I ever will. I should turn away and flee, appreciating the fortunate turn of events, but my mind is no longer my own. My hatred for him assists my feeble body in swinging the heavy blade at him.

He dodges, the tip of the blade narrowly missing is eye. He regains his balance and thrusts his blade quickly at my stomach. I let loose the sword to allow me move faster. It works and the sword only rips my gown. I am unarmed and he lets a smirk play on his face.

"All you had to do was die like a good girl, Natalie. Where did all that obedience you showed when we were partners disappear to, eh? ".

"It left when you kicked me to the curb. I'm going kill you, you b*****d!!!"

He swings at me once more and this time, I am not so fast. The sword leaves a wide gash across my chest, having torn through fabric, skin and bone. My stomach receives the full force of his wild kick and I fall helplessly to the ground. I scream in pain and he punches my face repeatedly. I'm dazed and his final words to me are incoherent as I lay bleeding to death on the cold tar. As he moves to land the killing blow, Thermes, Jonathan's right hand man, swings his flail from behind  and smashes Emery's head inwards with a sickening crunch. He picks me up and carries me across the bloodied street. Hopefully he carries me into Jonathan's waiting arms.