Brianna Lynn Greenleaf looked, by human standards, only nineteen. However, being an elf, she had lived on this planet for one hundred ninety four years. She stood 5'4" tall, with long golden blonde hair that lay in a perfect braid down the middle of her back and reached just below her waist. She had piercing, bright green, almond shaped eyes that did not seem to be working correctly at the moment. She was thin, with a slight muscular build, with small subtle breasts, for she was a warrior. She was sweating in her leather jerkin for the heat was intense for the early morning. The sweat plastered her garments to her skin, outlining the shape of her body. Now she stood on a wooden platform above what sounded like hundreds of people…Humans. A man, she could tell by the smell of sweat and stale beer and the weight of his footsteps, was climbing the rickety stairs to the platform on which she stood. A powerful hand pushed down on her shoulder, pressing her to her knees. A small whimper escaped her lips as she crashed down onto the hard wood of the platform. Rays of sunlight, still dim from the dawn, leaked through the black execution hood that she wore, causing her eyes to water painfully. Her wrists stung from ropeburn, as they were tied tightly behind her back.
A voice, the man behind her, said, "Are you ready to face the Judgement of the Gods, my dear?"
She fought to keep her trembling voice from cracking. "I am." The man beside her began to recite prayers for her soul, and she tilted her head upward, seeming to look at him, though she could not see through the black hood. "Tell me what I have done to deserve this, priest."
"You are the last of the True Elves, Child. You are also the rightful heir to the King's throne. Does he really need a better reason than these to be rid of you?" Something about his voice sounded familiar, but she did not know just what yet. She did know, however, that he was hiding something.
"I suppose not." She hung her head and slumped her shoulders dejectedly. "May I ask why you are here if I am to be simply gotten rid of?"
"I am here because the King wants to see to it that your soul is properly delivered to its rightful place."
"I see. I have a request to make, priest."
"Then make it."
"I do not wish to be hooded when the axe falls. If they are to get rid of me, they WILL see it. I will not allow them to shield themselves from my death."
"I will see that it is done."
"Thank you, priest."
Another set of footfalls, this one a bit heavier, started up the stairs. The soft whickering of a heavy, bladed weapon punctuated the footfalls, back and forth, back and forth.
"The Executioner," she thought.
Indeed it was the Executioner, come to take her life from her body with one long, clean stroke of his heavy, double-bladed axe. It was customary for the headsman to whisper his name into the ear of the condemned, so when he bent to hers, the crowd, still jeering and mumbling amongst themselves, took no notice.
"Darien Stag. Sit up straight."
"Darien?" she thought, "Well, I might get out of this alive after all."
She sat up straight as she was told. As she did, something heavy was pressed into her hand, behind her back and out of the view of the jeering crowd.
The gathered throng's catcalls and insults quieted as the headsman stood.
"AS IS CUSTOMARY, I MUST DECLARE HOW I WILL TAKE THE LIFE OF THE CONDEMNED. I SAY THAT MY AXE WILL CLEAVE THE BODY OF THE CONDEMNED FROM HEAD TO CROTCH!!," Darien screamed.
The audience cheered, their voices blending together in a horrific symphony of death. They watched as the Executioner stepped behind the young girl and raised the huge battle-axe, ready to bring it crashing down into the soft flesh and bone of her delicate head.
"Wait!"
The audience fell quiet, stunned by the power in the man's voice as he shouted. Even the disguised Darien halted the swing of his axe.
"What is the problem?" asked the King, a grizzled old man of about seventy, who looked as if he should be a pig farmer rather than a king. "Her execution was scheduled for dawn and the sun has almost cleared the horizon."
"Will you grant the last request of this young girl, m'lord?" asked the preacher.
"What is the request?" The King snarled, annoyed at the delay.
"Her request is small, m'lord. She wishes only to be unhooded when the axe falls."
"Very well," said the King, delighted at the prospect of an especially bloody death, "Her request is granted. Remove the hood."
The priest bent to remove the hood, and as he did so, softly whispered, "It's me, Corellan. We're all here."
She almost gave away their plan with the surprise in her eyes as the thick black cloth was removed from before her eyes and the morning sun hit her dilated pupils directly. Her eyes watered from the light for a moment, until they adjusted to the light. She looked around the gathered crowd, stunned at how many familiar faces he saw staring back at her. She could also see the early morning light glinting off of many swordblades, only a handful of which belonged to palace guards. She sat even straighter, knowing what was to happen now. A slow smile crept across her face as she realized she was not going to be executed.
"Not formally, anyway," she thought.
The headsman's axe was raised once again.
"WAIT!," screamed the King at the top of his screechy, high pitched voice, enraged at the realization that the girl was going to be released. "That is not the Executioner!!!!"
This story is to be continued. Please check back often for new chapters. *smile* If you have any comments on it so far, please e-mail me at davidphoenix@hotmail.com. All suggestions are appreciated, and all e-mails will be replied to.