Songs of Savage Daughters: A Collection of Short Stories

The Executioner's Tale

 The noose felt more like the touch of a lover than of Death's boney fingers.

    The sight and feeling of it became, too, familiar that fear did not bother to knock in her body. Maybe something was wrong with her. Any normal person, even the bravest of warriors, would fear having the rough and overly used rope around their necks, and floor that would disappear in a pull of a lever. Maybe there was something off as she walked to the platform with six other convicts, three charged with murder, two charged with sedition, and one rape. She made sure to steer clear of the last man, not wanting her corpse near someone who would force themselves on anyone. 

    She was far from a saint, but never would she commit such a horrible and atrocious crime. The mere thought of it made her clench her jaw and had the urge to spit on the man's feet, and the sudden want to strangle him herself. She wanted to look him in the eye when he goes out, knowing it was a woman who ended his life, one of the many people he attacked.

    Her? Her crimes were too many to mention, to list down that even the man reciting their crimes and their withdrawn rights for a plea, a bargain, to defend, and to a lawyer, only said the three crimes that were considered the gravest of all and was the reason for her conviction.

    The sight became too familiar that she began reciting with the man giving their sentence, the beginnings of the order, her name, the sentence in a mocking way that earned a hissing sound to be silent from the executioner. But she only sent him a mocking look. 

    He was not pleased –

    A stinging pain burned through the entire half of her face, the ring – which was, most likely, stolen from a corpse – caused a deep scar at her cheek, so deep the bone was seen. No herbs or healing would hide that scar.

    But, as much as an ass they were, they still granted her – them, the right to say their last words.

    The first one, the murderer cried out, "That bitch deserved what she got."

    The next was the thief, he cried a plea to be spared.

    Then next was the other thief, he had gone deranged since they were sentenced the other night and kept talking to ihs mother. "Momma, I'm sorry – please! I'll be good. I promise, please don't put me in the sack!"

    The others prayed a prayer to the gods above and beneath to save his soul and not be left for the hounds of Hell.

    The rapist grinned through his tears and said, "I'll see you lot in hell." Then he turned to her. She was unfortunate to be standing beside him in this line. "And I'll be waiting for you." He had the nerve to lick his lips.

    It was her turn. 

    All eyes were on her. 

    Raising her chin, she looked at the crowd who came to have the entertainment of death and sang:

    "Upon in which I journey
To the land they call for Fae
Where the sun sets in east,
And the moon comes west' bay.

    The executioner reached for the leaver to end the song once and for all. To sing a Faery's song was punishable by death after all. They could add this to the list of her crimes… along with the sight of her pointed short, pointed ears.

    Gasps were heard from the crowd in horror, some ran, some screamed, one fainted – and it was not a lady. Even the soldiers trembled as they took their museets and pointed it at her. None fired for they knew to disrupt a Faery's song would lead to bad luck. 

    Humans… such superstitious creatures.

    "I come to save my lover
From Leanan's tight embrace
Come winds hear my calling,

Take me to the land of fae.

    The wind blew with force, the clouds suddenly turned gray. The man and the documents he held blew out of his hands. A problem he would face with his superior no doubt. As the air became eerie, she continued to sing.

    And before anyone knew it, she pounced. Kicking the rapist's knee with force that the bone came through the other side. The soldiers came at her to restrain, but each one she beat with her claws and teeth. Blood coated her fingers and face from all the throats she cleaved, and all the while the noose remained around her neck –

    Damn these old wives tales, the executioner must have thought as the floors disappeared beneath her feet.

    A short fall, not strong enough to snap a neck.

    But she did not fall, she was grasping the rope above her neck, keeping her alive, and in one swing, she freed herself and fell at the hole where the rapist was. She grasped his body before her boots touched the ground. The snapping of a neck was heard.

His face was filled with horror.   

    Good. 

    Her song ended as soldiers pointed their guns at her.

    "Leanan, please give me my life."