The King's Executioner

by Donna Fletcher

  Anin held her tongue. She wanted so badly to speak up and tell Conmar that Paine was all of that and more, and yet no one called him friend.

  “Do you know what you ask of me? What I will do to find this demon?” Paine said as if in warning.

  Conmar thought a moment, his hands beginning to tremble. “I know you will bring suffering, but my people already suffer and you arriving here when I was about to reach out to King Talon for help is a sign. The spirits sent you to help us.”

  “When I am finished, you may think it more the devil that sent me.”

  Conmar drew back away from Paine and clasped his hands tightly to stop them from trembling.

  “Who found the slaughtered bodies?”

  “Various tribesmen.”

  “Where were they found?” Paine asked.

  “Mostly on the outskirts of the village.”

  “And no one saw or heard anything?”

  “Nothing. That is why most believe it is the work of a demon. He makes no sound as he stalks his prey, then steals their voices before slaughtering them so they cannot scream for help.”

  “Where do you think this demon came from?”

  “I do not know, though there has been talk that the young man who joined our tribe just before our troubles began brought the demon with him,” Conmar explained. “And he was found over the one body, blood soaking his hands and garments and weeping. He says he came upon Hendrid and was trying to help him.”

  “Take me to him,” Paine ordered, standing.

  “I will have Phillia see to Anin.”

  “I will not say it again. Anin stays with me.” Paine held his hand out to Anin.

  She took it, gripping it tightly. They thought they would seek food, shelter, and safety here for the night and what had they found... death many times over.

  “Stay close,” Paine whispered as they followed Conmar outside.

  He did not have to tell her. She had no intentions of leaving his side, and she was also relieved that Bog kept close to her as well.

  People were gathered in small groups, their eyes following Paine.

  “See to your daily tasks,” Conmar ordered.

  “Will the executioner slay the demon for us?” someone shouted.

  Silence followed as Conmar looked to Paine and waited along with his tribesmen, wanting to hear the executioner say it for all to hear.

  “I will see it done,” Paine called out.

  Cheers filled the air and smiles surfaced as people dispersed, fear not feeling as heavy as it once did, though by no means was it gone.

  Conmar took them a short distance passed the feasting house and around a gentle curve in the village and came upon a young man busy pounding the black stone that was broken and shaped into arrowheads for spears.

  He stood as soon as he saw Conmar approach. He was short with thick arms and a barrel chest and short red hair and beard both neatly kept. His eyes turned cautious and curious, and he gave Conmar a respectful nod when he stopped in front of him.

  “Dunnard, the King’s executioner wishes to speak with you,” Conmar said and stepped aside.

  “I did nothing wrong,” Dunnard said, taking a step back.

  “I did not accuse you of anything,” Paine snapped so sharply that it caused Dunnard, Conmar, and Anin to jump and Bog to step forward with a growl.

  Dunnard took another step back.

  “Take another step and I will think that you wish to run from something,” Paine said.

  Anin did not blame the young man for backing away from Paine. If his sharp tone did not intimidate, his size surely did. He towered over Dunnard.

  Dunnard wisely took a step forward. “Forgive me. How may I serve the executioner?”

  Anin admired the young man’s bravery, though his fear was obvious in his trembling hands.

  “Tell me where and how you found one of the men who were killed.”

  Dunnard cringed and shook his head slowly. “Hendrid. He was a kind man. He did not deserve to be gutted like an animal. I found him just inside the woods not far from the village.”

  “Do you know what he was doing there?” Paine asked.

  “I do not know. I was looking for hardy branches to make spear poles when I came upon his—” He stopped abruptly. “He was barely alive when I found him.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I tried to stuff him back together, but there was so much blood. He begged for help,” —he choked on his words— “I failed to help him.” Tears ran down his face.

  “Did you go for help?”

  Conmar answered. “I and two other men came upon him.”

  Paine turned to Conmar. “I did not ask you.

  “It is as Conmar said,” Dunnard was quick to say.

  “You heard nothing or saw nothing?” Paine asked.

  “Nothing.” Dunnard shook his head as if disappointed in his own answer.

  “He was alive when you found him?”

  Dunnard nodded.

  “With his last breath he did not speak the name of the man who robbed him of his life?”

  “He could barely say anything.”

  “Yet you heard his pleas for help clearly?”

  “He was afraid to die,” Dunnard said.

  “Are you afraid of death Dunnard?” Paine did not wait for a response. “We will talk again.”

  Dunnard’s eye turned wide. “I told you everything.”

  “Perhaps or perhaps not, we shall see.” Paine turned to Conmar. “Take me to the others who found the bodies?”

  He turned away, stopped, and glanced back at Dunnard. “You make your arrowheads sharp.” He did not wait for a response. He turned and walked away, leaving Dunnard’s whole body trembling.

  Conmar shook his head as he walked alongside Paine. “He is a skilled arrow maker and helpful to the tribe since his arrival. Will your torture reveal if a demon has taken hold of him?”

  “Torture reveals the truth more often than not. Were the others alive like Hendrid when found?”

  Conmar shook his head. “No, not a breath to them.”

  “I will speak with Dunnard again.”

  “You will torture him to get the truth, will you not?” Conmar asked.

  “If necessary.”

  “Do whatever you must to end this evil.”

  Paine always did what had to be done whether he liked it or not. One thing he never strayed from, though, was talking with his prisoners before beginning torture. Sometimes he got the answer he wanted after a short conversation. He did not like to torture. Most people confessed to anything to end their suffering and that did not always get the truth, and the King demanded the truth. He would see what each man told him, then decide if he should proceed with torture.

  Anin lagged behind Paine, turning her head several times as they walked away to get another look at the young man. He stared after them, his eyes so wide she thought they would burst from his head. Could he do such a horrible thing to one of his tribesmen? Or was it as he said, he tried to help the dying man? She could find out with one touch. She had to contain the overwhelming urge to rush over to him and lay her hand on him. She would know then if he killed the man or not.

  She chastised herself for the foolish thought. Her mum had warned her repeatedly not to pay heed to such nonsense that it would not serve her well. It had been difficult to do as she had cautioned and since meeting Paine, her urge to touch, to feel had grown too strong to fight against.

  “Anin!”

  She jumped and turned to Paine.

  “Three times I have called you.”

  His words were stern and she thought him angry, but his eyes held concern. “Endless thoughts,” she said, offering an explanation and went to his side, Bog keeping close to her.

  Anin followed Paine from place to place and listened intently as he spoke with the men who had found the bodies. He asked several of the same questions more than once and Anin began to see how the men would sometimes answer differently.

>   By the time Paine finished questioning the last man, he turned to Conmar and said, “See that Dunnard is tied securely for the night.”

  “You believe Dunnard brought this evil down on us?” Conmar asked.

  “Tomorrow I will know for sure and do what must be done.”

  Conmar nodded. “I am relieved to hear this.” He showed them into a small dwelling, pleasantly warm from the roaring flames in the fire pit.

  “I will see Dunnard secured, though I would ask you to see for yourself that we secured him well enough.”

  “Let me know when it is done.”

  Conmar hurried and took his leave, anxious to see to the task.

  “Do you believe Dunnard guilty?” Anin asked, drawing closer to the fire pit and holding her chilled hands out to warm them.

  “I believe that it is odd that he came upon Hendrid still alive and saw or heard nothing. All the other men had been found well after they had died. Also the evil did not start until after he arrived. He will tell me more when I speak with him.”

  She saw concern in his eyes and gentle warmth spread through her or was it the fire’s heat that warmed her? “Dunnard’s words seemed heartfelt.”

  “I have heard such heartfelt talk before only to discover it lies.”

  Shouts from outside drew their attention and a knock sounded at the door. Paine opened it to find Conmar’s wife, Phillia standing there.

  “Conmar says you must hurry. The tribesmen are calling for Dunnard’s head.”

  Anin hurried after Paine as well as Bog.

  “Cut him open like he did to others,” one man shouted.

  “Nay, let him rot on the stake for a few days before we slit him open,” another cried out.

  “I did nothing. Nothing,” Dunnard shouted.

  Anin stood shocked after breaking through the crowd with Paine. Dunnard was naked and pressed against a tall stake in the ground as rope was coiled around him from his ankles to just below his shoulders. Blood marred his head and face where swaths of his beard and hair had been cut away.

  “I did nothing,” Dunnard pleaded again and a stone struck him, bouncing off the rope. Several more followed, some catching his flesh, leaving him bleeding.

  “Enough!” Paine shouted and went and stood in front of Dunnard. “You will leave this man to me or suffer for it, and I will see that your suffering will be far greater than his. Now leave and do not return here.”

  People scurried off afraid of what the executioner could do to them.

  Paine walked up to Dunnard. “Think on what you will tell me tomorrow.”

  “I told you everything. I beg you to believe me.”

  “Think on it, for I will get the truth from you,” Paine said and turned away to stand in front of the young man until everyone had gone. When the first drop of rain struck the ground, Paine took Anin by the arm and hurried her to their dwelling.

  Anin stood again by the fire pit warming herself, though she did not know if her chill came from the cold the rain had brought with it or from seeing Dunnard suffer so badly.

  “I do not believe he killed those men,” she said.

  “Because his words are so heartfelt? Great suffering and fear can force the tongue to say anything.”

  She shuddered, thinking of the poor young man, rain pouring down on him and darkness falling.

  Paine went to her and took her hands in his, rubbing them. “Many claim themselves innocent when they are far from it.”

  “Have you found none to be innocent out of all those you have tortured and beheaded?”

  He stopped rubbing her hands, released them, and took a step away from her. He had no right touching her with hands that had brought so much pain and death.

  “Not one innocent person?” she asked when he failed to answer.

  “There was a woman.” His brow scrunched in thought as a memory surfaced. “I was sent to a village where a healer was accused of stealing the breaths of some recently born bairns. The tribe wanted her to suffer before I took her life. She had been beaten badly, burned on parts of her body, and her long gray hair chopped short.

  “When the torture began, she did not beg for her life or scream out her innocence. She begged for help for two bairns that were due to be born. She feared for their lives. She pleaded with me to send for a healer from another tribe to tend the births.” He shook his head. “The torture continued and still she begged for those bairns to be protected. That night one of the women started birthing. She and the bairn were soon in trouble. It was the chieftain’s sister who was giving birth and she begged for the skilled healer to help her. He granted her permission, but only if I attended the birth and made certain she did not steal the bairn’s breathes.

  “I watched the healer soothe the mum, though she herself suffered from what had been done to her, and coax the baby out with little difficulty. The caring smile on her beaten face was something I will never forget. If I had not turned my head away for moment, I would not have caught or stopped the healer’s helper from smothering the bairn with her hand over his little mouth and nose.

  “It did not take long for her to confess to what she had done. Angry at not having bairns of her own, she wanted no other women to have them.”

  Anin felt relief for the healer and sadness for the woman. “What happened to the healer?”

  “There were some who believed the healer helped the woman even though the woman insisted otherwise. I advised her to leave the tribe and she agreed. She is now King Talon’s healer.”

  Anin smiled, happy for the healer. “If one proved innocent, could not others?”

  “We have no time for this.”

  She walked over to him and laid her hand on his arm. “There is always time for the truth.” A tingle of desire rushed through her and tender warmth hugged her. She had touched him without thought or consequence, but was glad she did. She let her hand stay as it was, enjoying the comforting feeling that drifted from him into her.

  Paine stepped away reluctantly, her simple touch causing far too much feeling to stir in him. “Remember do not leave my side while we are here.”

  “As you wish,” she said. He did not have to tell her to stay close, she wanted to do so. Oddly enough, she felt that she belonged beside him and she did not know what she would do when he finally left her.

  “Sleep, for we are lucky to have sleeping pallets and shelter from the rain tonight,” Paine said.

  Anin did as he said and not soon after fell into a peaceful slumber.

  She did not know what woke her, the crackle of the fire or the stillness around it. Paine slept a distance from her and Bog slept in front of the door, though his head shot up when she sat up. Something disturbed her. She did not need to think on what it was, she knew.

  One touch and she would know if Dunnard was innocent. One touch could save him.

  Quietly Anin got to her feet and so did Bog. Keeping her steps light, she approached Bog and leaned down close to whisper, “Not a sound.”

  He seemed to understand and since he had been given no order to stop her, followed her out the door.

  The rain had stopped, taking the chill with it and leaving a heavy haze behind to greet the morn. Confident she could find her way to Dunnard, she took a step into the thick mist.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was strangely quiet. Anin listened for any little sound, the hoot of an owl, the drip of water the rainstorm left behind, the scurry of nocturnal animals, but there was nothing. It was as though the mist snuffed out all sound.

  She took cautious steps, Bog so close to her side she felt him rub against her leg. Her ear finally caught a sound and she stopped and listened.

  “Help me! Help me!”

  Anin followed the faint pleading until she was able to make out a shadow not far from her. When a low growl erupted in Bog’s throat, she stopped. Had the shadow moved? Was there someone there with her? She looked around, the mist so thick she could see nothing, not even the shadow that had been there. Had
she been foolish in her thinking? Could a demon be following her ready to rip her apart as he had done to the others?

  The pleading voice called out again, more anxiously this time. She decided there was nothing left for her to do but follow it and learn the truth. If she did not have Bog with her, she may have thought differently. She took several steps when the pleading stopped, though she did not. She followed where she believed the sound had come from and soon came upon Dunnard.

  He gasped when she stopped in front of him.

  “I mean you no harm,” she said softly.

  “Please, you must help me. I swear I killed no one.”

  It was frightening enough walking in the thick mist, not able to see anything around you, but to be tied to a stake helpless had to be terrifying beyond measure.

  Anin raised her hand to place it on his bare shoulder, to comfort and to discover the truth. She brought her hand down gently to rest on his wet, chilled skin. Cold seeped into her at first, then suddenly terrifying helplessness gripped and twisted her insides. It changed so quickly almost as if she had never felt it. Instead, a strange sensation took hold of her, pleasure from inflicting horrible pain on others. She had to fight her way through the horrible sensation, feeling smothered by the evil that was rising up and surrounding her.

  A hand suddenly clamped around her wrist, yanking her hand off the young man and spinning her around.

  “Did you not hear me when I ordered you not to leave my side?” Paine asked with sharp anger.

  Anin glared at Paine, unable to say anything, wanting desperately to let him know that he was right. Evil resided in Dunnard.

  “Are you feeling unwell, Anin?” Paine asked concerned that she appeared as if she wanted to speak but could not.

  Dunnard spoke up. “She is a seer, is she not? Is that not why she touched me, to see the truth for herself? And the truth has left her speechless, for she knows I killed no one.”

  “She is no seer,” Paine said, though looked at Anin questioningly. Could it be possible? Could she be a seer? Could that be the secret her mum had been hiding?