Excerpt: Necessary Evil

"Mama!" The child's cries split the air, carrying easily in the pregnant morning silence. "Mama!" She was a tiny thing to Kael's eye, five, perhaps six. Pale blonde hair fine as spider's silk flew this way and that as she struggled in Elim's firm grasp. The old monk's face gave nothing away, expression so serene one wouldn't imagine he had a frightened child thrashing in his grip. The mother sobbed quietly, held between two monks at the edge of the dais. The child's father stood apart, looking surprisingly distraught for the snake who'd given over his own family. Kael's grip tightened around the hilt of his dagger as he struggled to keep his expression blank. If anyone deserved his blade, it was that bastard.

The gathered crowd was eerily quiet, those who dared to converse doing so in low tones. An aura of anticipation, of horrified fascination hung thick in the air. So eager for spectacle, for gossip, and it made Kael ill to see. They want this, he realized in dismay as he surveyed the faces peering up at that frightened little girl. Some days it was hard to believe that there was any goodness in man at all.

Elim bent down and whispered in the child's ear. Kael did not catch what was said, but it seemed to calm her somewhat, and when the monk urged her towards the rough block at the center of the dais, she went under her own power, if somewhat haltingly.

"Kaelas," Elim called, a note of command in his voice, and for a moment Kael hated him. An execution did not require a magic-breaker, not even for one of the cursed, but it reassured the people. Elim knew, he knew how much Kael hated this aspect of his duty. There were other breakers who would be far more willing and yet Elim had chosen him. The monk did not technically have any authority over him, but the man had a great deal of clout. What he wanted, he got. If Kael had any choice in the matter, he would be as far from this place as possible.

Taking a deep, slow breath, Kael did his best to push all doubt from his mind. His duty was to protect the people, and part of that duty meant upholding the law. Shutting out all sound and sight save for the small girl, Kael knelt in front of the wooden block, stained dark with old blood. He held out a hand to the little girl who watched him with pale, pale blue eyes. She put her tiny hand in his, and her eyes flared the white-blue of magic, power traveling through their joined hands in a warm current that raised the small hairs on his neck. The power had no intent and no direction, it was merely reaction to her fear.

He tugged gently on the hand in his own until the girl lay on her stomach over the wooden block. "What's your name?" he asked. Elim clucked his disapproval, but Kael chose to ignore it. If he did this, it would be in his own way.

She blinked wide eyes at him. "Alika," she whispered.

Kael leaned forward, resting his cheek against the downy softness of her hair. "Close your eyes, Alika."

He pulled back slightly as she screwed her eyes tightly shut. "I'm scared," she confessed, voice quavering.

Kael drew his dagger, placing the other hand gently on Alika's head. "I know," he whispered, and cut her throat in a quick, practiced motion. Warm blood gushed over his hand and arm, and for the space of a heartbeat there was silence. Then the mother's harsh, heartbroken screams split the air as the tiny body thrashed weakly on the block. So small, she bled out quickly, and a blast of wild magic tore through him, a silent wail of anguish as she died. Kael felt it all, her pain and confusion and fear. She was so, so afraid and he was drowning in that fear.

The wave passed, washing out of him slowly, reluctantly, the vestiges of her mind, her death and her terror clinging to him like thick sap. Kael stumbled to his feet, staring blankly at the blood that drenched his arm and legs, pooling thickly at his feet. Gaze sliding sightlessly over the unmoving body of the girl, Kael thrust the bloodied dagger against Elim's chest, smearing blood over the pristine robes. "You can do the mother your own damned self," he snarled. "I want no part of it."