Crimson Sands

A sharp ache enclosed his mind.  Lights danced before his eyes, the only breaches in the surrounding darkness.  They soon faded along with the pain and his eyes began to adjust to the deep gloom.  He shivered as he noticed the light chill in the air and felt the damp cool stone beneath his hand.  The gray stone came into focus through the haze of darkness the only break in their structure barred by a gate of rusted iron.

  It was blatantly obvious to him where he had been incarcerated.  The holding cells under the guard barracks were common knowledge to the people of Tel’Audren and so was the punishment for anyone unfortunate enough to spend time in its confines.  His presence here meant that he was to be hanged.  He had no idea when but he knew it would be soon due to the executioner having next to no patience.

  There would be no trail.  He knew his guilt and so did the council.  A trial would be a waste of time and the council had other tasks to which they needed to attend. 

  The silence was broken as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hall and into the cells.  They came to a rest outside his cell and were replaced by a different sound.  He recognized it as the familiar sound of a key turning in its partnered lock. This was followed by a resounding clang that resonated throughout the small cell which could only be the opening of the door.

“Get up prisoner, the captain wants to have a chat with you before we string you up.”  The new arrival stated in a harsh tone.

It was obvious that he was the jailor for few others were allowed down into the cell block and the jailor was the only one that had keys to the cells.

“Hold out your hands.” The jailor commanded.

Fleet stayed silent and did as he was instructed holding his hands level as the cold touch of metal meet his wrists.  A small clank of the iron manacles notified him that the binds were secure.

“Walk.” 

Fleet made his way down the dank gray corridor the jailor walking just behind him as they approached the stairs.

“To the top then take a right prisoner.”

Fleet continued up the stone steps until he came to the top the guard across from him observing closely as he turned to the right and proceeded to the interrogation room and was not the least bit surprised in finding that Captain Garen was already present.

“Have a seat.” Garen said indicating the seat across from him which Fleet took.

“So, where should I start?”  Garen asked.

"Anywhere is fine."  Fleet replied.

"Very well, I take it you know why you are here?"

"Enlighten me?"

"First there was the fire at the library."

"Not my fault, the librarian was throwing candles at me.  Lit candles."

"What about that caravan you sacked?"

"That was a fun one. I got gold, clothes and a horse."

"Yes, and you left the caravaneers broke, horseless and nude."

"I'm not apologizing."

"Most importantly you stole Sadia's Tear."

"I most certainly did not."

"Then prove it."

"I can't."

"Then I can't let you go."

Thirty minutes later Fleet began his march towards the gallows in the city center as the crowd jeered yelled.  His feet felt heavy, weighed down by the grim burden of knowing his fate.  Each second felt like an eternity but it was still not enough of a delay in Fleet’s eyes.  He climbed the wooden steps and came to a halt just below one of the ropes waiting for what was to come.  He felt the rope being slipped over his head and heard the sound of the noose being adjusted.  A small hood was pulled down over his face and the sound of his breathing drowned out all others save one the sound of retreating footsteps moving closer to the lever that would bring his death.  The floor gave way beneath him and his descent was followed by a sickening snap and astonished cries. By the time the guards had realized what had happened Fleet was already atop the wall.

Garen watched as his childhood friend jumped down to the sands beyond the wall.

"Then prove it." Garen muttered under his breath.