Chapter 2 of a Work in Progress. 

The moon was full, and the wind was unusually wild for that time of year in the Kingdom.  Lady Zarielle remained unafraid as the guards escorted her to the podium. She knew that her nephew was doing his job…and they were waiting for her. She flinched as the ropes that bound her hands irritated her wrists. 

There was only one thing that could spoil the perfect plan of Duke Laraz; that was a perfect plan of her own. Lady Zarielle did everything she could to protect her daughter, including marrying the lecherous Duke. He was devious, duplicitous man who had betrayed and then assassinated most of her family.  He didn’t realize this himself; and wondered why she continually rebuffed his advances ever since the first day he offered her and her daughter asylum.

Lazar used lies and deceptive tactics to get close to her, and get her to trust him. Instead, Zarielle trusted her instincts.  She also had a secret—a very special gift.

If he knew the truth about Zarielle—where she came from and who her family was--he would have had her beheaded or burned years ago due to extreme prejudice and fear. She kept her secret hidden well...Pretending that she was a servant woman, hiding in the pantry when the Duke and his barbaric tribe attacked.  She wonders if he knows the truth now, as she walked towards the guillotine underneath the moonlit sky.

Zarielle had sent a hawk as a messenger to her niece, explaining her folly and requesting his aid. She prayed in her heart that she’d received it by now, and that her plans would come to fruition.  She also prayed for Lyzelle; now 16 years of age. She did not want him putting his hands on her, but knew that he’d want her as his replacement wife after Zarielle’s death.  She hung her head at the thought, and prayed to the Goddess that the girl would have the strength to master her gifts, and escape the dungeon she’d been trapped in for well over a month.  

In the first five years of their brief marriage, Zarielle had resisted his advances despite his protesting for her to behave like a “proper wife should.” She used the excuse that she was still grieving her late husband which was only half-true. She also found the duke disgusting, and she absolutely loathed him. He led an entire army to overtake one Castle, her own castle where she lived with her kin which he’d slaughtered mercilessly, all except for her brother who had been captured by another foe and held prisoner until he succumbed to fatal illness and starvation.

            Then, on their sixth wedding anniversary he had decided he had enough.  He had tried having his way with her, and she had successfully fought him off, burning his genitalia in the process.  She did it mostly out of anger, and loss of control of her own unique skill.  She tried so hard to fight him off without the use of her gifts.  But, it was just as well.  If she scorched him severely enough, then he could not turn and use his weapon of choice against her daughter, in retaliation.  But he had found other means of abuse towards the girl, and imprisoned her in the dungeons with very little food rations each day.  Zarielle assumed the Duke was keeping her there until his manhood was healed.

The duke made it known to Lady Zarielle that his feelings for her had turned from lust to bitter hatred. This was just as well.  The feeling was mutual.  However, she knew what his intentions were for Lyzelle.  He wanted her to know about it before she died, which only added fuel to her fire.  It only made her own plans for revenge so sweet.  Zarielle grinned, despite being sentenced to death, escorted on to the podium by his two worse henchmen.  She smirked, and as she walked past he arose from the throne.  He rushed to her, and grabbed her arm, “I’m going to do it anyways…I’m going to find a cold, metallic apparatus.  I will wed your daughter in the wake of your death, and then have my way with her. If she’s foolish enough to fight me, or gets the idea that they can flee…well then she’ll be meeting you in purgatory tonight! What a perfect family reunion that would be, my dear!  You see…you were foolish to even try to best me.  You cannot win!”

            “We’ll see who’s foolish, bastard!” she said, and he slapped her across the face.  Despite it, the grin did not leave her face.

            “You arrogant tart!”

            She just laughed, knowing that he is going to get what’s coming to him. By fire, she thought to herself, my fire.  His two thugs grabbed her arms.  She nearly tripped over her blue, silk gown as they dragged her to the podium.  She did not flinch, standing in front of the guillotine.  She could still hear him scoff. 

            “Curse her,” Larazz cursed, “not even afraid!  If she’d only been that brave every time I tried to mount her…”

            “Then we wouldn’t be here, would we?” Seladar the high priest said, “We wouldn’t be here, dear boy.” He snickered. “You certainly know how to pick them, don’t you?  A refugee from the castle of a fallen people, unaware of who she was. Foolish enough to believe her to be a mere servant.  Stellar move sir,” He snickered. “Stellar indeed.”

            “You old fool!” He said, “You’re celibate.  What do you know about—”

            “About love.  About Sex…” He snickered, “Sir, I wasn’t always so holy.  For your information, I was quite a rouge in my day before becoming a man of the Brotherhood.”

            The Duke glanced at his headstrong wife.  Her auburn hair complementary to her blue silk gown, still rosy cheeked and young in appearance.  Damn her.  It made him hate her all the more.  “She’s still…so lovely.”

“Indeed, she is.” The priest said.  “What a waist to see that pretty head roll.  Having second thoughts my boy?”

            “Not the least.” The duke said.

            The bell in the tower chimed seven times.  It is time.  She smiled, knowingly. “Let the show begin,” she whispered.

            The executioner stood there, holding the rope that held back the blade. Unsuspecting, so unsuspecting.  The two henchmen pushed her forward, one grabbing her shoulder and forcing her to lean forward, over the wooden framework. “Easy, men.” She said, “It’s cruel enough what fate has in store for me, you do not need to be any more brutal.”  She leaned forward, cautiously.  Her neck in the semi-circle curvature in the wooden guillotine.  She knew she had to act fast, then move quickly.  She whispered something softly, inaudible to her captors.  She closed her eyes, as she expected the rope to be released any second…With a WOOSH the guillotine went up in flames. The henchmen backed away, their gloves set a fire, and at that she stood up.  Hands still bound, but soon the rope was singed, the smell of burnt rope reached her nostrils. She tugged at the weakened rope quickly, breaking her hands free. She rubbed her wrists.  As for the executioner, he met with a horrible accident as well, as he noticed that the prisoner was slipping away, he stepped forward to catch her only to be set fire himself, the guillotine burned, as the blade fell slicing the executioner’s arm off.  Soon the whole podium was on fire.  Spectators ran, screaming, cursing the Gods. In the midst of the chaos, Zarielle slipped away into the night.

~ ~ ~

            “She was…one of THEM wasn’t she?” The duke said, behind clenched teeth as he ducked behind a stone wall.

            “Indeed she was, your highness.”  The priest said, as he came up behind him “Indeed she was.” He grinned, as if he had known it all along. “Had you done his research, you’d have known about her true heritage.  She is of the Guild that worshiped  Saphira the benevolent.  You had wed your own enemy.” The priest snickered.

“Curse you and your gods!” He said to the priest, “And that wrathful bitch! I bet she had planned this all along!”

The Priest ducked away, and fled the king, never to return.  For he knew all to well what happens when you anger the Gods.

~~