An extract from some of my writing

“Witches.” The old man had climbed halfway up the steps towards Rheims and the pyre, shouting at the top of his voice. “Witches, Witches, sure aren’t we all witches. Haw, what do you think?” Bending down he shoved his nose into a guard’s face. The crowd were pointing and laughing at the old drunk on the steps.

“Oh, well ye can laugh.” All the time he was pointing at the crowd. “You butcher, with your money, stealing an extra bull or two from farms, so you’ll have more to sell than the others…”

            Sven looked down at Rheims who had stopped talking, his stare fixed firmly on the old drunk, disgust dripping from his expression. Sven watched as the Angels of Mercy descended the steps leading down to the crowd and watched as the old man dodged their attempts to grab him. The crowds heckled and cheered with every evasive move the old man made, slipping just out of reach as they got close to him. The old man continued his line of accusations while being chased.

“Who was it that really stole your money, was it truly Maisie here?” He pointed back at the young girl on the stake. “Or was it your own greed that stole it and now that you have nothing, you blame it on something that no one wants to understands. Magic, the black arts or it is Devilry...” The drunk began to dance a merry dance, pretending to cast spells on the crowd and avoiding the Angels of Mercy and their attempts to catch him. The crowd gasped as the drunk spoke, whispers running rampant amongst ears and then silence as the thunderous voice of Theobald Rheims rained down on the heads of men and women alike.

            “Blasphemy…” His voice sending tremors through the strongest and weakest alike. “Heresy, I command you not to listen to his words. Angels take him to the to the Room of Repent.” As the Angels of Mercy closed in on the old man, Sven knew that he wouldn’t get a better chance than this to rescue the girl from the witch hunter. Taking the bottle from his belt he threw himself out of the window and threw the bottle at the torches at the base of the pyre. 

“Look a witch flying from the cathedral!” The voice of a woman drowned out the shouts of the crowd, drawing Rheims away from the pursuit and to Sven falling towards the ground. A bright flash blinded Rheims, causing him to cover his eyes and stumble down the top two steps. The crowd began to panic, running from the edge of the steps, cutting the city’s guards off from the commotion. Rheims regained his balance just in time to see Sven hover over the young girls head.

            “What magic is this? Who are you?” Rheims voice trembled as the words spilled out. Grasping his war hammer in his hand, he called his Angels of Mercy to his side. Sven remained silent and watched as the old man fell to his knees behind Rheims watching what was happening, then Sven spoke. 

“Silence.” His voice swallowing the crowds sounds of panic. “Old man, release the girl.”  Sven looked down at the old man picked himself up from the ground and walked to the pyre to untie the girl. His hands had just touched the ropes binding her when Rheims spoke in a commanding voice.

            “Do not release that witch or you too shall feel the cleansing touch of holy flames upon your skin.” The old man stopped and looked up at Sven and winked.

“Oh, Theobald I don’t think I’ll feel the flames.” The man tugged at his hair and it came away in his hand revealing a smoothly shaven head. Sven watched to see how Rheims would react. “Don’t you recognize me?” The old man dropped his tattered coat to the ground revealing two swords at his side. 

            “You...” A look of disbelief fell on Rheims’ face. But I burned you in Stanoss last year.” Rheims mouth dropped as he saw the man now revealed in front of him.“How did you survive the flames?” Theobald drew up his hammer to his chest, readying himself for the attack. 

“The next time you try to burn Miguel Hernandez Juan Raul Pablo Carlos Alejandro Fernando Pedro De La Cruz, I suggest you stay till the fire burns out.”