# A Tale of Ashen Wings - Chapter 2: Untimely Deaths

Author: Andre Valias
Tags: Dark, Death, Dragon, Dragonian, Fantasy, Fighting, Magic, Male, Medieval, Nords, blood, brutality, elves, execution, fatality

The crowd cheered and started to hurl verbal insults at the
stone stage. Akalgan looked around at the common folk whom had forgotten all
about him being a foreigner, as they became lost in the excitement that came with witnessing a public
execution. He then cast his gaze back upon the Nords who stood helpless in
the face of death, as the executioner unfolded his arms and cracked his hands
in anticipation. He had no weapon of execution on his person, however, and this
bewildered Akalgan. Does he mean to strangle them with his bare hands? He wondered.

The Ordinators nodded to each other, before unchaining the
first Nord and hauling him over the front of the dais and before the crowd.
Those closest to the dais pointed and jeered the loudest insults. 
"Drunken northerner!"
Akalgan heard once. 
"Piss-drinking scum!"
Akalgan heard another time. But the Nord ignored the insults, and instead
looked outward over the crowds. Akalgan followed the unfortunate man's gaze,
but only found more people behind him. Then there was a loud sparking and
crackling sound. Akalgan looked back up to the dais, and the Nord's eyes were
now closed. 
Suddenly, his chest exploded spontaneously. A vicious
fireball tore through him and then evaporated instantly. Flayed insides sprayed
over the jeering onlookers that were up close and personal to the dais. Some of
them winced and screamed in surprise. Even Akalgan flinched at the sheer
brutality of the execution. 
"I see now..." He
muttered. The executioner held his hands to his sides for a moment while he
surveyed his work. The magical energy faded in the pause and Akalgan frowned
in disgust. That is just overdoing it. He silently remarked. The Nord
was still barely alive when he fell to his knees with the gaping hole in his
torso. 
The executioner then stepped forward, brought his hand up to
the sky, and as he did a column of fire leapt up from the floor and engulfed
the Nord. Akalgan and those closest could feel the raw heat the pillar
generated. The pillar was so bright that Akalgan followed the consensus of
people in shielding his eyes with a hand. So intense were the flames that
nobody, not even Akalgan, could see the poor Nord being encased in fire. The
executioner finally brought his hand down and the pillar dissipated. Akalgan
and the rest of the people lowered their hands upon seeing it was over.
Unsurprisingly, there was nothing left of the Nord, spare bare ashes, to bury.
The slight breath of wind ultimately blew the dust away from the dais, and the
crowd cheered. 
"Praan ko drem." Akalgan muttered in prayer for the poor soul. 
"For Skrijaheim!" A
voice shouted from close-by. Before Akalgan had a chance to draw his attention
to the voice, an arrow flew through the air and struck the unarmoured
executioner square in the chest. People exclaimed in shock and surprise as they
moved away from a group three Nords who wore simple traveling garbs and yet
were armed to the teeth with weapons. One of them, a woman, had her bow ready
and next arrow nocked. 
"How dare you--Guards!
Seize them!" The grandmaster bellowed. The common folk made way for the
guards who were quickly advancing on the three attackers. 
Akalgan then saw amidst the panic two more Nords, dressed
just like their comrades, rush up the dais and, with a furious roar, they took
down both the Ordinators that guarded the prisoners. The grandmaster turned his
back to the crowd to face the attackers when he was struck in the side by
another arrow from the Nord archer in the crowd. With a grunt, he collapsed to
the floor and clutched his side in pain. The executioner got to his knees as
the Nords cut down the Ordinators with vicious swings of their axes. Before the
executioner could turn around to cast a spell, the first of the two Nords
hurled his axe at the Dark Elf. The axe landed its mark. It cleaved the
executioner's mask in two and subsequently split his skull. 
There was panic in the grounds. Akalgan stood out of the way of
the frenzy as the people formed a clear radius around the attackers. The alarm
bells were ringing from the towers as the guards swiftly leapt into the circle
and surrounded the three Nords. The archer's companions brandished their swords
and held their shields aloft. They were grossly outmatched, but Akalgan could
tell what they intended to do. The Nords upon the dais quickly shattered the
chains of their brethren and gave them spare weapons. The first Nord then
retrieved his weapon from the dead executioner, and spared a glance at the
grandmaster. Sendalas glared back defiantly, but did nothing as he clutched his
wound. The Nords then nodded to each other and got off the dais quickly.
Sendalas glowered and then yanked the arrow from his side with a scowl. 
The other three Nords fought off the guards with such
ferocity that made up for their few numbers. Akalgan watched from amongst the
masses with intrigue and apprehension as the Nords bravely fought against
insurmountable odds. Joined by their other two companions and now-freed
brethren, the group charged against the guards and broke through them like
sickle through chafe. The people behind the guards scrambled out of the way of
the Nords as they began to flee the chaos. 
There was a loud boom like the roar of thunder, as a silver
lightning bolt shot through the air and struck one of the Nords down. With a
cry, the bolt sent him sprawling to the ground with a scorched back from the
lightning's impact. The grandmaster smirked from the dais, and brought his hand
back to pressing his injury. The Nords immediately stopped in a moment of fear,
and they scrambled around their fallen brother. Akalgan's brow furrowed at the
sight. Why would you not keep running? Is he important...? He wondered.
The hesitation of the Nords to leave their brother behind cost them their
chance to escape freely. They were quickly engaged once more by guards and now
Ordinators as well. 
The Nords scrambled around their fallen brother and readied
their weapons once more for battle. Akalgan followed some of the people over to
watch the fight. The Nord archer still wielded her bow, and nocked arrow after
arrow as she landed shot after shot amongst her companions who fought off the
guards. They were certainly not going down without a fight, as they killed and
wounded the first few guards that engaged them. Blood splattered across the
cobblestone and guards began to crawl away from the fighting, wounded by either
an arrow or the glance of a sword. Akalgan cringed at the fight and how it was
going for both sides.
Finally, the Nords were bested. In a sudden swift stroke,
the Ordinators leapt in amongst the guards and brought out their blades. One
quickly dodged the swing of a battleaxe and cut down the Nord warrior with a
flawless flick of his blade, while another blocked a sword blow with his shield
and then finished his foe off by separating his head from his body. 
"Malkir! Jorik!" The
Nord archer cried out to her fallen companions. She then bared her gritted
teeth like an angered wolf. "Ashlander
scum!" The Nord archer cursed as she stepped backwards and fired another
shot at the Ordinators. The shot struck the first Ordinator in the shoulder and
sent him sprawling to the ground for a moment, while his comrade charged
forward with shield raised. The other two Nordic companions joined their
comrade and stopped the Ordinator from reaching her. The Ordinator jumped back
as soon as he saw the two come at him, and then signaled to the other guards
behind him. The guards leapt into the fray and overwhelmed the two Nords with
sudden force. "Holgir! Bren!" The
archer cried out helplessly. But the Nords had no chance as they were knocked
over by shields and then finished off with a merciful stabbing through the
chest each. 
Akalgan could now see the fear in the Nords' eyes, as though
they immediately realized how hopeless their fight had become. He watched as
the Nord archer cast aside her bow and drew her sword. She stood by her
brethren stubbornly, even as the Ordinator marched towards her with his
now-recovered companion joining him. She cried out as she lunged towards the
weakened one. She nimbly avoided a sword blow from the unwounded Ordinator and
grappled with his wounded comrade. She knocked the sword out of his hand and
held him by the neck like a shield as she tried to pull him back with her
Nordic strength. The other Ordinator simply watched. 
"Arnigge, look out!" One
of the Nords shouted out, but it was too late. Before the archer could turn her
head, a guard had stepped in and swiftly cut her throat. Blood gushed from her
neck as she weakly released the Ordinator she had hoped to hold captive. 
Their rescuers were now dead, felled by hesitation and
greater numbers. The Ordinator's wounded comrade was taken off to the side with the
other incapacitated casualties. The guards followed closely in company of the Ordinator. Akalgan
watched, eager to see what the Nords would do next now that their hopes of
escape had been dashed. Surprisingly, they shouted in defiance and leapt at the
Ordinator. However, swords fell only upon shield and a parrying flick, as the
Ordinator disarmed one Nord and killed the other in a swift stroke. He kicked
the other Nord down and then held his sword to the throat of the last Nord
before he could raise his own weapon. 
"Drop your weapon and
kneel." He commanded, whilst the guards seized the disarmed Nord. The Nord
at sword-point hesitated and then scowled.
"Never--!" He
shouted as he whacked the sword away with his own and then attempted to cut
down the Ordinator with over swing. However, once more, blade clattered upon
only shield, and the Ordinator followed up by impaling the Nord upon his sword.
The last Nord weakly dropped his sword as he fell limp upon the Ordinator's
blade. The Ordinator finally lowered his blade and kicked the mortally wounded
Nord off of it. He then finished him off with a merciful stab to the heart. He
then glanced to the fallen Nord who the guards seized and hauled back over to
the dais along with his disarmed brother. 
The people looked onward, joined by the rest of the citizens
who had heard the commotion and came to witness what was happening. Akalgan,
too, watched as the last two Nords were brought before the grandmaster once
more upon the dais. He looked more than displeased with all the bloodshed they
had evidently caused. The fallen Nord from before had just regained
consciousness to see the grandmaster Sendalas staring back at him. 
"Severin Sendalas,
you snake..." The fallen Nord who spoke was red-haired, almost as crimson as
the blood that now pooled on the streets from the fighting. He stared back at
Sendalas with tired hazel eyes. 
"You and your
father's filthy Redcloaks have wrought only chaos here for me and my people." Sendalas
growled back. "Now tell me, Ulric
Redcloak... How much will your father pay for your safety and possible return?" He
asked. 
Akalgan then realised why the Nords had stopped before, and
particularly why he was the one struck by lightning. Severin must have realised
that they were here to rescue Ulric, son of Sven Redcloak the Godhammer, and
that it only made sense to strike down the objective. Clever and ruthless... Akalgan thought, though he felt ashamed
of complimenting the Dark Elf even in his head. Ulric spat on Severin's boots
and glared back at him. 
"Your head on a
spike." He responded simply. Severin looked annoyed with the impudence
Ulric displayed be spitting on his boots, but then smirked at the response. 
"Then I see no reason
to keep you alive then. Neither of you are of value to me." He noted as he
glanced between Ulric and his Nord brother. 
"What are you waiting
for then?" Ulric asked exasperatedly. "FINISH
US!" He bellowed. The parade grounds were silent as Severin returned
Ulric's intense gaze, but only for that quiet moment.
"Guards! Bring me the
Ordinator who killed the last Nord." Severin ordered sharply. The guards
obeyed and signalled for the Ordinator. He promptly stepped up to the dais and
joined the grandmaster. 
"My lord." He
addressed as he obediently kneeled. Severin nodded.
"What is your name,
Ordinator?" He asked. 
"Veratus, my lord." The
Ordinator answered. Severin took note.
"Then stand,
Veratus." He ordered, and Veratus did as he was commanded. "You rightfully have the honour of promptly
putting these two fools out of their misery." Severin explained. "With my blessing, of course." He
quickly added. Veratus looked at his lord for a moment, then back at the two
Nords. Ulric looked unphased, while his Nord brother had his head cast down in
hopelessness. Akalgan and the rest of the city watched silently as Veratus
unsheathed his sword once more. He stepped towards Ulric's companion, and
paused for a moment with his sword in both hands pointing toward the heavens.
"For the Tribunal." Veratus
uttered. He then aimed for the heart and plunged his sword straight through the
Nord's chest. He cried out in pain as the life drained from his body, and when
it was over for him, Veratus pulled his blade clean from the Nord whose body
fell limp upon the stone. Akalgan glanced about him and expected cheers, but
the people were shockingly quiet. He then looked back at Veratus as he stepped
towards Ulric. 
Veratus once more held his sword in both hands pointing
toward the heavens, but Ulric spat on his boots.
"Spare me your
Tribunal nonsense, and send me to Sovngarde!" He shouted. Veratus looked to
Severin for a moment. The grandmaster then raised his hand.
"Hold, Veratus. I've
changed my mind." Severin began. Veratus paused for that moment, ready to
sheath his sword at the thought that his lord had decided to be merciful.
However, Severin had no intention of the sort. "I'll send this rat back to his father--" he spoke as he stepped
forward and briskly took the sword from Veratus. "-- In pieces!" Severin then brought the sword aloft and viciously
cut across with a cold look in his eyes. He decapitated Ulric in a sudden
movement that drew gasps from the crowd. Veratus did not seem shocked, but he
did appear to pity Ulric as his head smacked upon the stone and rolled down the
steps of the dais to the ground below. Akalgan also stared at the head with
pity as people shied away from it. 
Ulric's body collapsed lifeless upon the stone before
Severin, and he smirked. 
"Good riddance." He
muttered. He then looked to Veratus. "Gather
the guards and clean up this mess, and prepare the fallen for their families." Severin
ordered of the Ordinator. "Oh, and
retrieve Ulric's head for me. Sven can have him back." He added as Veratus
bowed his head in acknowledgement, before assuming his commands. The guards
then started herding the citizens out of the parade grounds and back to their
daily life. Akalgan stared at Severin as he departed from the dais and headed
towards the citadel, accompanied by two guards to help him with his injury.
Akalgan then glanced back to the mess the Nords had wrought, both of the guards
and themselves, then finally spared one more look upon Ulric's head. Even in
death, his tired hazel eyes stared defiantly towards the skies. It looked like
the perfect material for a bard to write a song, and Akalgan had no doubt that
there were many of them in the audience. He sighed.
"Praan ko drem." He whispered once more in prayer for the Nords'
souls, before he followed the rest of the people and left the parade grounds.
He headed back to his tavern of residence, eager to get over the events of the
morning. It isn't too early to drink, is it? Akalgan wondered to
himself.

Source: https://sofurry.com/view/894418

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