It took Jack almost a full second to realize that the scream wasn't his own. His eyes flew open and he saw ten fingers at the ends of his arms. Whipping his head around, Jack saw the magistrate writhing in pain, blood squirting out of a deep gash in his stomach. The man tried to scream again but it only came out as a drowning gargle, blood dripping down his chin. As the captain reached for his sword, the executioner produced a dagger and stuck the blade through the captain's wrist, pinning his arm against his plated chest. The captain staggered back, groping at his maimed arm, and slipped in the magistrate's blood. He fell down to the stone street below, the sound of his impact a mix of dented metal and cracked bone.
While Jack just stared in shock, Saunder didn't waste any time taking advantage of the distraction. He shoved all of his weight into the soldier beside him, tipping him over the edge of the platform, then swung his fist into the cheek of the other soldier with a bony crack.
The executioner bent down and released the latch, swinging the stock open and freeing Jack. Then, he pulled his mask off, letting short locks of dark hair fall in front of a surprisingly young and ruggedly handsome young face.
As Jack took a step back, the man jumped up onto the stock, balancing himself and raised his arms to the crowd theatrically. "People of Perdan," he announced in a loud voice. "I am a soldier of Talon and I will see his prophecy fulfilled. Fear not, for all of your despair will soon be at an end!"
The crowd broke out into nervous gasps. They seemed more concerned with this sudden twist than in the pair of unconscious guards, the captain's lifeless body, and the magistrate who was still twitching beneath his blood-soaked clothes.
From the edge of the crowd, soldiers were yelling to each other, brandishing their weapons, and racing forward.
The faux-executioner grabbed Jack under the arm and pulled him to his feet, flashing a reassuring grin. "Hello, Jack. My name is Archer and I will be rescuing you this day."
"Just you?" Saunder asked nervously, as a dozen soldiers ran through the crowd on all sides.
"I'm sorry if you were expecting a battalion," Archer said, surveying the crowd. "Maybe I should have stayed in bed today."
"I'm not ungrateful," Saunder assured him. "But I am highly invested in your success."
"Never worry," Archer said nonchalantly, glancing back and forth as the soldiers approached the platform, swords drawn. He raised his voice again. "If anyone objects to my actions, please step forward and your grievances shall be heard!"
This only enraged the soldiers further and a few less-disciplined men broke into a charge. Archer merely smirked, drawing a sword from beneath his black robes. "I see we have some takers."
The first soldier reached the platform and in one massive leap was atop it, swinging his sword. Archer met his attack and parried, twisting the man around and landing a solid knee to his kidney. The next soldier approached from the opposite side, racing up the stairs behind Jack. Saunder whirled around, hoisting the executioner's ax over his shoulder like a baseball bat. The soldier yelled and took a brutish swing but Saunder responded by ducking mere inches out of the way and swinging the flat edge of the ax into the man's shoulder. Bone cracked and the man's scream was agonizing.
More were coming now, two and three at a time. Archer defended his position masterfully, ducking and dodging his enemies' attacks with the ease of a dancer rehearsing a choreographed routine. Saunder took a more direct approach, using his ax as a blunt weapon, knocking away a steady stream of enemies without killing any of them.
Somewhere in between, Jack hid behind the pitiful cover of the stocks, arms covering his head as men screamed and bled and died around him.
And still more came.
"Maybe we should think about exiting?" Archer said a wild grin, deflecting a blow and using his free hand to shove the enemy away. With a carnal yell, Archer swung his sword in a wild arc, knocking the remaining guards off the platform. As yet another solider climbed up, Archer wound his arm back and with a grunt threw the sword into the man's chest. Archer stripped the executioner's robe off and pulled free a small cloth pouch that had been hanging from his neck. He grabbed Jack and Saunder by their shirt collars and pulled them close.
"You might want to hold your breath," Archer said, holding the pouch high in the air, then slamming it hard onto the floor.
The pouch exploded in a cloud of sand, much more than there should have been. The sand flew up and out, engulfing the platform and their view. Jack blinked as grains scratched his eyes and nose. He tried to shout but the moment he opened his mouth he felt the sand fill his cheeks and throat. He could no longer sense the world around him; not the platform, nor the crowd, nor Saunder and Archer. There was just the sand, everywhere.
Just when he thought he would suffocate, the sand vanished and they were somewhere else.