Firenze awoke with a jolt and tried to sit up. He tried to push himself up, but found his hands tied firmly behind his back. After a great deal of effort, he managed to prop himself against the stone wall of his cell. His head was throbbing where the thug had knocked him out, and his entire body ached from when they threw him into the cell, but he ignored them and focused on the room he was in.
It was a small room, about three metres by two, and made of solid stone. The walls and floor were filthy, and something dripped from the ceiling. The only light came from the thick, dirt-encrusted glass window in the iron door set firmly into the wall. As he gazed at the light, something blocked it outside. The door screeched open and light spilled into the tiny room, temporarily blinding Firenze and making him squeeze his eyes shut in an attempt to shield them from the sudden brightness. A figure stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He approached Firenze and stood over him, his hands folded behind his back.
"So, the mysterious Fire-Frost," he said in a silky voice. "I was wondering when you would arrive." Firenze tried to make out the man's features, but the light was shining from behind him and his face was shrouded in shadow.
"You are here for committing treason against the Council. You have assaulted a member of the security and attempted to steal an object of great importance. Do you have anything to say in your defence?"
Firenze coughed painfully and slipped a little down the wall. He had not recovered enough to reply.
"So, no attempt at a defence? That's good. It saves time, and maybe I'll hurt you less before I turn you in to the headsman," the man said gleefully. Firenze coughed again and attempted a raspy answer.
"Who... who are you?" he asked in a weak whisper. The man said nothing, merely stepped backwards into the light. Firenze's eyes widened in surprise.
"You? But... but why?"
"That does not concern you, old man. Now, we have a few questions for you. It is in your best interests to answer them." The man smiled evilly and took a step towards Firenze.
"Why did you try to steal the obsidian?" he said, not beating about the bush any longer. Firenze merely shook his head. The man's fingers curled into a fist and he punched Firenze under the chin, causing his head to fly back and crack painfully against the wall. He was surprisingly strong, considering his slight figure. Firenze gritted his teeth. He would not cry out. Not for him.
The man punched his head again, this time on the temple, and knocked him to the ground. He kicked him in the ribs and then backed away a few steps.
"Answer the question, and you do not need to get hurt," he said simply. Firenze sighed.
"I will not tell. You are wasting your time here. Send me to the headsman. I will be content." The man said nothing, merely kicked him in the stomach and ground his heel into the knuckles of Firenze's long tapered fingers. He gave a short cry as he felt the bones snap under the pressure, and the man allowed himself a sadistic smile. This was going to be a very enjoyable evening.
I was looking out over the dock, thinking about Firenze's decision. Chris walked up to me, startling me, and told me that everyone had to go to the main square immediately. I walked with him to the square, already bustling with people waiting, and found a place to stand.
The Head of the Council walked onto the platform and the audience immediately fell silent. He pushed back his hood.
"It has recently come to our attention that there is a traitor in our midst." A ripple ran across the crowd. I swore under my breath, praying it wasn't him.
"We have found him, and detained him. We called this assembly to emphasise the importance of loyalty to the Council, and we felt it required a demonstration."
About a third of the way around the platform from where I was standing, there was a disturbance in the crowd. The people separated to form a path to the platform. I craned my neck in an attempt to see who was there, but I couldn't make them out amongst the sea of people. It didn't particularly matter though. I knew exactly who it was.
A man in the coarse brown tunic and the hooded cloak of Kakonatos prisoners climbed the steps to the platform, his hands tightly bound behind his back. His hood was up and his head was hung, so I couldn't tell for sure if it was him or not. Then a burly guard mounted the stage behind him and pulled down the hood, confirming my worst suspicions. Whispers and gasps spread along the crowd as they realised who it was.
Firenze was stood on the platform, staring straight ahead over the crowd. Countless bruises and cuts decorated his arms, face and neck, and one eye was encircled with a large, dark bruise, contrasting with his bright blue iris. His normally pristine blond hair was mussed and dirty, and one arm hung loosely at an odd angle. I fought to stop myself from calling out to him, and pushed closer to the front of the crowd.
The guard walked him to the centre of the platform, where everyone could see him. I noticed a small wooden block, with a semicircular piece taken out of it. I cursed and tried to push my way through the crowd, but the people were squashed too tightly together and it was impossible to get there in time.
"This is what happens when thieves commit treason," said the Head, his mouth curling into a small malicious smile. He stepped off the platform just as a second guard went on, this one carrying a long-handled axe. The blade glinted wickedly in the afternoon sun. The first guard shoved Firenze to his knees in front of the block. He checked the ropes binding his hands together, and then nodded to the second guard. He stepped into position next to the block, fingering the sharp blade of the axe.
The first guard put his boot in the centre of Firenze's back and roughly pushed down, forcing him to bend forward and rest his neck on the block. He stepped back and stood behind Firenze, ready to stop him if he tried to escape. A hush fell over the crowd.
Firenze turned his head slightly and focused his eyes on me. He nodded slightly to me, barely noticeably, and closed his eyes in anticipation. The headsman raised the axe above his head and I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see what was about to happen. I heard the swish of the axe as it cut through the air, followed by the final thud as the blade hit the wood. An awful silence followed it for several seconds. Then, a single voice rang out across the square.
"You bastards!" yelled a woman, running forward. The crowd parted to allow her through and I recognised her as Firenze's old housekeeper.
"You cowardly bastards!" she repeated, and tried to get up onto the platform. The guards held her back, but they did not want to hurt her, and she managed to fight her way between them. She knelt by Firenze's slumped body and sobbed, great wrenching cries of sadness broken only by her cursing at the guards.
The crowd began to get smaller, the people wanting to get away from the terrible scene. I caught sight of Firenze's decapitated body, lying so forlornly in a pool of blood. The sight made my breath catch in my throat and I clamped a hand to my mouth, trying not to vomit. I turned and fled, not looking where I was going, just wanting to get away from the horrible sight of my dead friend, and the guilt that was besieging me.
Just wanted to let you guys know, it was HORRIBLE writing this chapter. I cried. See what I do for you? I cried for you.