“Put the cloth between your teeth.” Aidric grabbed the shirt from his father’s hand and did as the man said. To say feeling the coarse fabric bushing against his teeth was unpleasant would be an understatement. The salt coming from his own sweat certainly didn’t help either. Compared to what was about to come, though, this would be heaven. “Let all gathered here today bear witness to what happens to thieves.” Neal said, an undeniable authority in his voice that dared any onlookers to challenge him.

“Kneel.” A firm, harsh hand came down on Aidric’s shoulder, forcing a jaw rattling impact as his knees kicked up dust from the dirt. Aidric’s hands trembled, no matter how much he’d tried to hide it. Some small part of the boy hoped his father would take it easy on him. A hope swiftly dashed by leather.

The instrument that snaked along the dirt from the corner of Aidric’s eye, left a trail on the ground as it made a small mound from the displaced earth, sent a shiver running down his spine. He heard the whistle of the whip before he even felt it. With a resounding crack, the world blurred from the sting that settled on the small of his back. Tears filled the boy’s eyes as pain exploded again, just below his shoulder blades. His mother’s shouts were all he could hear over his own heartbeat. A third explosion, then a fourth. Screams wanted to tear themselves from Aidric’s chest, but he held them down. Instead, he opted to bite down harder on the cloth. Some of those gathered shrank away with each lash, others averted their gaze completely. Five, six, seven.

He couldn’t hold back his shouts any longer. The hollers tore from his throat were muffled by the rough fabric in his mouth. A stiff breeze stung against tissue that was never meant to feel it. Mangled, grunted breaths filled the air that most had believed could only belong to wildebeests. Eight, nine, ten. Between bleary eyes, Aidric made out little red splotches on the surrounding ground, with a terrible theory of what they could be.

“Mr. Bauer… don’t you think that should be enough, Sir?” A man with receding, black hair and an untrimmed beard spoke up from behind the two in the center of the square. Neal’s lip quivered as he turned his head towards the man. Without a uttering a word, the man retreated into the crowd like a spooked field mouse.

The rupture of blow eleven sent another splash of red to the dirt, staining the brown grass, and confirmed what Aidric didn’t want to be true. He was bleeding everywhere. With a wipe of his hands brushing the sweat from his eyes, only then did the finer features show on everyone’s faces. Mouths hung agape as his friend’s hollered words he couldn’t discern. Aidric watched his mother only grow more hysterical with each blow.

“Neal, please, this is my fault! I’ll take the other ten!” Priscilla’s cries went ignored as more blows tore into the boy. Thirteen, fourteen? He didn’t even know anymore. Aidric offered a silent prayer to the Gods, pleading that if they were listening, to just let him die already. He’d already had one foot in the grave, so please, Ether, just take him. Anything was better than this. More red splotches filled his fading vision while bile rose in his throat. He was going to be sick. Spots filled his vision, his heart thundered in his ears.

“Claire, go get Jacque! Please!” Ada pleaded from across the square. Claire snapped from her horrified stupor and gave Ada a nod. The baker’s heel left a divot in the dirt as red began forming around the outline of the woman’s frame as she started reciting the incantation for ‘Propel’.

“I wish to fly; I wish to be fleet of foot. While I cannot reach the sky, the routes I hoof, I know well.” The red tinge around the woman completed its circle, and she bent her knees, right leg cocked behind her. “Ether, grant me Propel.” Claire was off like a shot, causing a slight spray of loose dirt and pebbles to roll their way across the town center that the crowd couldn’t be bothered to look at.

Aidric leaned back onto his ankles and pulled the saliva drenched shirt out from his mouth, gulping in fresh air before spinning himself around to vomit. Only he never did. His ears were ringing, and his eyes refused to focus. Distant screams and flailing colored blobs danced in his vision. A warm stream made its way down his forehead and pooled beside him on the... dirt? When had he fallen?

Aidric’s eyes eased into focus to see Priscilla holding Ada and Lauren back with either arm. Tears rolled down each of their faces… but Priscilla’s was different. Why did she look guilty? He’d chosen this, all of it. To steal, and to take the punishment. Aidric’s arms were as strong as pudding as he forced himself back into a kneeling position.

“For Gods’ sake Neal, stop! The boys had enough!” A weathered voice echoed through the crowd when an old man and Claire joined the boy and his father in the square. Their rapid approach sent a harsh wind and grass waving in a torrent as the vestiges of their ‘Propel’ spells came to an end. Armed with a wicker backset full of herbs, tinctures and cloth, Dr. Tillmane inched towards both of them. “Do you want to kill him?”

The old man, still surprisingly limber, rounded the statue behind Neal, Aidric’s agony muddled mind gradually pieced together how well-off he must have been. The only words that left the old man’s lips were a prayer to the long dead God’s statue.

“Arcturus above...” Aidric had never seen Dr. Tillmane speechless before, not even when a brush cub shredded Madison’s arm to the muscle. He’d still cracked jokes as he stitched the claw marks back together. “If this continues, Neal, I don’t know that there’s much I can do.”

Aidric let out a silent thank you to whatever deity may have been watching when blood leaking from his head finally stopped. His hair felt thick and sticky, but the blood that had run down his face had crusted and dried. He wanted more than anything for this to be over. Aidric dragged a few ragged breaths into his lungs and looked at the crowd. Most held expressions of fear, hoping, too, that this would end. A flicker of worry danced in a few of the onlooker’s eyes, as if they were more concerned about the thief’s punishment being lenient because his father was the one delivering the blows, rather than the extent of his torn flesh. No, he would not give any other villagers an excuse to seek their own justice later on. His father had an image to uphold as the unofficial head of the village, and Aidric would be damned if someone called his father inept.

“Do it.” Aidric scarcely recognized his own voice, which sounded more like a kicked puppy left in the desert sun all day than his normal self. Maybe this way, they could stop delaying the inevitable and just finish it.

“Neal, do not...” The old mage’s voice held a firm edge to it, but not firm enough to cut to the point. Five resounding cracks in as many seconds sent Aidric’s body to the ground in writhing horror. His breathing was quick, and eyes bleary as they rolled into the back of his head. His muscles rebelled against his commands, choosing to contract, causing him to shake uncontrollably as his mind fizzled.

“What have you done!?” Jacque Tillmane said, his voice full of disapproval and anger as his steps rushed to the shaking boy. Someone Aidric couldn’t see kneeled beside him and held his head in their lap. For a moment, his eyes worked, revealing an auburn-haired woman, and a faint tinge of lavender tickled his nose. Ada, with tears streaming down her face, was staring at someone with unadulterated hatred. Neal stepped into his son’s view, a single tear rolling down his cheek as he dropped the blood-stained piece of leather to the dirt... then walked away.

Aidric’s body still shook with spasms as his vision faded to dark, and the world became black. Everything was numb, no more pain, no more burning in his chest. He could sense his mind fading away, as if he were falling asleep against his will.

“Jacque, what do we do?!” Ada asked. Her words were more of a plead than an actual question, and Dr. Tillmane crouched behind the boy, doing his best to keep the shaking child from getting debris in his gaping wounds.

“We need to get the bleeding to stop, then attempt to stave off infection.” Jacque drew a labored breath and let out an exasperated sigh. “Not even magics I know can touch this. I can’t do anything here. We need to get him home, somewhere more sanitary.” Aidric’s head lulled to the side, unable to carry its own burden, and closed his eyes.

“It’s okay, Ady. You’re okay.” Hearing some final soothing word from his mother, Aidric let go.