When he opened his eyes, the prisoners had already gone past.
Fear gripped Brother Hawk. Why hadn't the hidden mages attacked? He looked around and met the scared and confused faces of his cconspirators on the ground. Quickly, they all congregated at the rear of the crowd.
'What's going on, Brother Hawk?' Sister Rat's eyes were darting wildly.
'I don't know. Something's happened.'
'Yeah, something bad,' Brother Frog retorted. 'We've failed. I say we call this thing off.'
'No!' Brother Hawk nearly shouted. 'No, we can't give up yet. There's still a chance to save them. If we don't, we can forget about anyonfeglse offering to help overthrow the Karanoks.'
'Do you have a plan?' Brother Crocodile asked. Brother Hawk was relieved that not everyone was ready to run.
'I'll think of something.' Brother Hawk moved off before the others could protest. He didn't bother to look over his shoulder as he tailed the procession. Even if they didn't follow, he was going to see this through. He was tired of living in fear in the city he grew up in. He was tired of talking about doing something. It was time to change things.
The sun had finally crested the east city wall when they reached the execution yard. It was rumored that the yard had once been a beautiful public garden with rare flora that drew visitors from around the Realms. The Karanoks changed that in their quest to rid Luthcheq of magic.
The crowd filed in behind the procession, under the watchful gaze of two round towers that guarded an opening in the twenty-foot-high inner wall that separated the city from the triangular field of trampled dirt. On the west and south side, the yard was fenced in by the thirty-five-foot-high walls that surrounded the entire city. At each point of the triangle were the larger towers that flanked the sections of the outer walls. Armed guards patrolled the battlements.
A large, undecorated stone platform ran the length of the south wall. Here the procession diverged with the prisoners and their escort moving to the left, while the Karanoks in their sedan chairs veered to the right. Both groups climbed the stairs at either end of the platform. As the prisoners were bound by their shackles to two wooden poles that rose from a great log pyre built in the center of the platform, the sedan chairs were lowered and the curtains pulled back.
With a sharp intake of breath, Brother Hawk froze in the middle of the milling throng. Gathered together on the platform were the four most powerful members of House Karanok: old Maelos, the family patriarch; Jaerios, true ruler of the city; his son, Naeros; and Kaestra, high priestess of Entropy. With one well-placed fireball, Brother Hawk could reduce the family's control over the city to a pile of ash.
The inner struggle lasted for only a moment. It was tempting, but Brother Hawk knew there were enough Karanok cousins spread across the land that the vacuum would be quickly filled.
'There's no more time.' Brother Crocodile touched Brother Hawk on the shoulder. 'What do we do?'
'We need a diversion.'
Ythnel sagged against the wooden pole, closed her eyes, and let the weariness wash over her. The din of the gathering spectators faded as her consciousness drifted in the darkness of her mind. She had endured all that the Karanoks had put her through for naught. There had been no point to her suffering, no greater purpose. That had been the hardest blow.
Now she was going to die, and she didn't care. If there was no reason for all that she had gone through, then nothing mattered.
Something brushed lightly against her feet. From the rustling sound that accompanied the touch, Ythnel guessed it was witchweed leaves. Even though they knew she was not a wizard, they still went through with the charade. It was pointless.
A voice cried out from somewhere to Ythnel's right, and the crowd grew silent.
'Citizens of Luthcheq, your presence here is a testimony to your zeal in the war against the corruption that is sown by the use of magic. Entropy is pleased.' It was the cold, hard voice of Kaestra Karanok. Cheers met her declaration, but they seemed halfhearted at best.
A scream from the crowd snapped Ythnel's eyes open. Across the yard by the two towers guarding the entrance, a large, black globe, perhaps ten feet in diameter, materialized out of the air; arcs of deep purple energy cascaded across its surface. All heads turned; all eyes fixed upon it.
'You see.' Kaestra's voice was filled with fervor. 'Entropy has come to witness the death of this witch and her servant. Bring the torches.' Two guards started forward, burning brands in their hands.
The brands sputtered then erupted in huge clouds of billowing smoke.
A ball of fire streaked from the back of the crowd, blossoming as it neared the platform and exploding upon impact amidst the gathered Karanok crossbow-men. Several small darts of different-colored energy flew from various parts of the crowd to strike the guards now spilling out of the towers and send them tumbling over the battlements to the ground below.
Ythnel squinted, trying to peer through the smoke from burning bodies and sputtering brands, but her eyes were full of tears. From what little she did see, it appeared the yard was in utter chaos. The panicked crowd was running about like stampeding cattle, caught between the burning platform and the manifestation of Entropy. The Karanoks and their remaining entourage were fleeing the platform, only to get pushed back by the press of trapped spectators.
The sound of someone muttering nearby caught Ythnel's ear, and she twisted around to look but could see no one amid the smoke.
'Who's there?'
She was answered by a sudden coughing fit then a curse. Still no one was visible. The muttering started again a few moments later. Ythnel concentrated on the source, trying to pinpoint its location. Something about the muttering was familiar. She couldn't decipher what was being said, but it reminded her of a prayer chant.
That was it! Someone was casting a spell.
In that instant of realization, a figure wrapped in a hooded cloak appeared before her, and her bonds unlatched and fell to the ground.
'My name is Brother Hawk. I am here to free you,' the man said, pulling back his hood to reveal a stern face with a set jaw, a tousled mane of black hair, and dark eyes that held a mixture of fear and determination. He reached out a hand to help Ythnel down.
'Please, don't leave me. You have to help me, too.' The plea came from the prisoner on the other pole. Ythnel hesitated, her eyes locking with the man who was still bound. She had forgotten about Prisus, her former master.
'There is nothing we can do,' hissed Brother Hawk to Ythnel. 'I have used what spells I had to free you. Hurry, we have to get out of here.'
Ythnel looked away, taking Brother Hawk's hand and climbing down from the pyre. Once down, however, she stopped.
'We have to try.' She let go of Brother Hawk's hand and rushed over to Prisus. She scanned the ground for something to use to break the metal cuffs, but there was nothing suitable. With a thunk, a crossbow bolt sank into the post just above Ythnel's head, and she looked up. A guard on the wall was reloading his weapon while keeping one eye on her. She froze, her mind suddenly going blank. The guard brought his crossbow back up and took aim.
Brother Hawk appeared between Ythnel and the guard. He murmured something as his hands moved in front of him. The guard fired at them, but the bolt bounced off an invisible disc of force inches before it reached Brother Hawk.
'Hurry!' he shouted.
'Maybe we can pull them off,' Prisus cried over his shoulder. Ythnel took hold of one of the manacles while Prisus tried to pull his hand through. It only took a few seconds before Ythnel realized they would never go over his hands. She released the manacle she was holding, and Prisus looked up at her. When their eyes met, Ythnel could see the pleading in his gaze, but she shook her head and turned away. Brother Hawk started moving for the far side of the platform, and Ythnel followed.
'No!' Prisus wailed.
'The witch is escaping.' Alerted by Prisus's cry of despair, Kaestra rushed the platform, calling to the guards on the battlements above. 'Shoot them!'
