Okay, not true, but… whatever.
He continued, “My question to you is, do we show him mercy? Or do we send a message to all those who oppose us? A message that states beyond any shadow of a doubt that their cause is futile and their true destiny… is to perish!”
As the crowd erupted with another cheer, three more people stepped up onto the platform. There were two Ravinian guards and a guy they held tight. He was a prisoner, with a black cloth bag over his head.
Saint Dane reached out and pulled the bag off.
My stomach clenched when I saw his face. Yeah. It was Mark.
At the same time, from the crossbeam over Mark’s head, a noose was lowered. It was all happening much quicker than I imagined.
This crowd had been gathered to witness the execution of Mark Dimond.
Chapter 25
A fourth person stepped onto the platform. Nevva Winter. Saint Dane wanted her to carry out the execution, and there she was. Ready to go.
“People of Ravinia,” Saint Dane’s voice boomed. “Give me your decision. Do we show mercy? Or begin the process that will crush our enemies once and for all?”
I wasn’t expecting any other response than the one they gave. The chant began quickly, the sound echoing off the Taj Mahal.
“Crush! Crush! Crush! Crush!”
The sentence had been handed down. Saint Dane had done it again. He had already decided to execute Mark, but he first drew these people into the process, making them part of the decision. Putting blood on their hands. He could still claim that the people made their own choice, though in reality he was stoking the evil spirit that gave him the power to re-create Halla.
I looked at the faces of those around me. They seemed like ordinary people. Nobody had three eyes or sharp fangs or looked any different from the rebels who lived outside the conclave. In fact, they weren’t any different. They all wanted the same thing, which was to live their lives in peace. Trouble was, the people of Ravinia felt they deserved more and weren’t above crushing those who got in their way. Not all monsters had fangs.
And not all of the Ravinians were chanting. I actually saw a few people who weren’t caught up in the furor. It might have been wishful thinking, but to me it seemed as if they were looking around in dismay, the same as I was. Was it possible? Were there some Ravinians who actually had a conscience? It gave me a brief bit of hope, but no more than that. There were plenty of others who wanted Mark’s blood.
I pushed my way through the crowd, desperate to get to the silver tower that had become a gallows. I didn’t know what I could do, but I wasn’t going to let Mark die without a fight. I kept the electric wand to my side, turned off. As badly as I needed to get through the crowd, I wasn’t about to kill anybody to do it. That would have made me no better than the bloodthirsty Ravinians who were calling for Mark’s head. I kept my eyes on the stage. Mark stood bravely, looking out at the crowd. They had cleaned him up a little for the show. His beard stubble was gone and his long hair was cut short. He stood staring out at the thousands of judges who wanted him dead, showing no fear. He didn’t fight. I’m sure he didn’t want to give anybody the satisfaction of knowing that he was anything less than a proud, formidable guy.
Saint Dane stalked along the front of the platform, soaking up the energy. He was loving this. After letting the emotion roll over him for a few seconds, he turned toward the Taj Mahal and waved. A quick look showed me who it was meant for.
Elli Winter had arrived. She was being held by two Ravinian guards, who dragged her out the front door of the ancient building. They forced her forward and stopped at the top of a wide set of stairs that led down to the bottom of the silver tube. The level I was on. Being up high like that meant she was roughly on the same level as the top of the platform where her daughter was about to murder my friend. Saint Dane gestured for Nevva to look back. Nevva didn’t. I think she knew who was there. It was a cruel move. Saint Dane wanted Nevva to know her mother was watching. Was it a further test of her resolve? Or was it punishment for having questioned him earlier? Either way, Saint Dane proved yet again how vicious he could be.
Having Elli there also meant that the Ravinians knew I was on the loose. It didn’t worry me at all. In a few seconds they were going to know exactly where I was.
The intensity of the chanting grew. It became a steady, incessant, “Crush them! Crush them! Crush them!”
I pushed my way forward, knocking over anyone and everyone in my path. I saw that beyond the tube were stairs that led up to the platform. That was my goal. I had to get to those stairs.
Up on the platform Nevva moved without expression. I wondered what was going through her mind. She knew Mark. She liked Mark. It didn’t seem to matter. Not when it came to showing her blind dedication to Saint Dane. She reached for the dangling noose and slipped it around Mark’s neck. Mark didn’t make eye contact with her. Seeing the noose around his neck made the chanting grow louder. They knew the end was near. It was a vicious, bloodthirsty lynch mob.
I had only a few seconds to act. I hoped that Saint Dane would give Mark some last words. Or make a final, grand statement to the crowd before sending him plunging to his death. For once I wanted Saint Dane to be his usual, arrogant self. I needed the time. As I drew closer to the platform, I saw that the number of dados had grown. It would only be a matter of time before they realized that somebody was making trouble and try to stop me. I couldn’t afford to be cautious anymore.
It was time to get dangerous.
I raised the silver weapon and hit the button. I felt the power surge as it kicked on. I started flashing the powerful wand at the dados in my way. Most never knew what hit them. They were too busy scanning the crowd to realize that one of their own was on a rampage. I flashed the weapon left and right, nailing dados with each swing, knocking their lights out. I guess you could say I was charged with bloodlust as well, or whatever it is that runs through dado veins. I wanted to mow down as many as I could, as fast as I could.
I kept glancing up at the platform, hoping for more time. The stairs were within reach. Two dados were stationed at the bottom. They barely had time to raise and activate their own weapons before I sliced them both, knocking them to the ground. I was on the stairs, flying up three at a time.
The crowd continued chanting. Mark was still alive. I knew what I had to do. Nevva was my quarry. If she was the executioner, she would have her finger on the switch. If I was to save Mark, I would have to stop Nevva.
I couldn’t hear anything but the fevered screaming of the crowd. My wand was up and ready. When my head cleared the platform, I saw exactly what I’d hoped to find. Saint Dane was out in front, facing the crowd. Mark stood with a dado on either side of him, keeping him still. Nevva was to the far right of the platform, near one of the uprights of the gallows. There was a small plate on the back side of that upright. On it was a series of switches.
Nevva’s hand was on them.
Saint Dane turned to Nevva and nodded.
It was Mark’s death sentence.
Nevva put her finger on the center switch.
I wasn’t going to make it in time.
“Nevva!” I screamed, hoping to throw her off long enough for me to reach her and knock her into eternity.
Nevva turned toward me. I saw the surprise on her face. It wasn’t enough to stop her. Nevva threw the switch. The door beneath Mark’s feet swung away. He started to fall. I dropped the weapon and dove for him, hoping to catch him before he disappeared beneath the floor. I hit the deck on my belly and slid toward the opening with my arms outstretched.
Time seemed to slow down. I felt the fabric of Mark’s shirt fall past the tips of my fingers. I tried to grab on to something, but got only air. The next second felt as if it took an eternity to pass. My eyes were on the slack rope… that suddenly went taught. The gallows shuddered briefly. Not a sound came from below. Though he had fallen into the enclosed tube and could not be seen by the crowd, they knew what had happened. Their reaction told the story. A huge, triumphant cheer erupted. I barely heard it. The only sound that cut through to me was the slow, steady creak that came from a rope that had been pulled tight, straining to hold the weight of my best friend.