The emaciated man stepped up to Mot, who was still writhing and moaning from the pain of the burning arrow.
The man stared, then reached up, took hold of the noose, and pulled it down until he could drape it about Mot's neck.
"I ate of stones," the man said in a curiously toneless voice, "until my stomach burst, and the stones ravaged through my belly until I shat stones. Now you shall know your own time."
He stepped back.
For an instant, nothing happened, then the burning arrow twisted about Mot's wrists moved. It slithered up Mot's right arm, twisted about his neck, then coiled about the rope that rose behind him.
In a movement so fast few could follow it, the arrow climbed the rope to the top of the scaffold, and, before any could draw breath in amazement, the rope contracted to an arm's length.
Mot shot into the air, suspended in the noose.
The rope tightened, and Mot's mouth opened in a silent scream, his feet kicking desperately below him.
The crowd smiled, their faces grim, their hands still held in the air.
Mot twisted frantically about on the end of the rope, the arrow still burning above him where the rope was tied to the scaffold, but the Demon did not die of strangulation.
Instead, he hungered.
He opened his mouth, and formed words, although no sound came forth.
Feed me! Feed me!
"If you wish," said DragonStar, and again the burning arrow moved.
It slithered back down the rope, around the noose, and into Mot's mouth.
It disappeared.
For a moment, nothing.
Then Mot's face contorted in an agony so great his eyes almost started from his head. His arms jerked in a mad dance at his side.
A small red, glowing spot formed in the centre of his belly, and, before any could draw breath, the arrow burst forth.
Mot's belly exploded, blood spraying through the air.
His body jerked to a halt ... and changed. It blurred from a humanoid form into that of a rat, and then into a worm.
Finally, it turned into a loose lump of flesh that dropped out of the noose to the wooden platform where it sizzled momentarily before vanishing completely.
The emaciated man, still standing before the spot where Mot had been, looked skyward, then raised his right hand.
The arrow tumbled down from the sky, and the man caught it deftly. He turned, descended the steps, walked over to DragonStar and held out the arrow.
"Thank you," he said, and DragonStar took the arrow, nodding slightly but saying nothing.
The man took his place within the crowd.
Now the woman with the ravaged eyes stepped forth to Barzula. "I walked in madness for many weeks," she said, "a tempest raging through my mind. Eventually I died when I walked into a fireball tumbling across the wasteland."
She paused. "Now you shall know your own time."
And she stepped back.
As with Mot, the arrow about Barzula's wrists moved up his arm, about his neck, and yet further up the rope to the top of the scaffold where it writhed.
The rope contracted, and Barzula was sprung into the air, kicking as frantically as Mot had done.
And as with Mot, Barzula did not strangle. Instead, he was consumed with tempest.
The arrow exploded into a firestorm. It hailed down a rain of molten lead droplets that ate into Barzula's body until it sizzled and smoked.
The woman smiled, although her eyes were now sad and compassionate.
The hail of molten lead became worse, and from somewhere, and despite the noose about his neck, Barzula screamed.
It was the final sound he made. His entire body was now smouldering, the lead eating into his flesh, and within moments he began to disintegrate.
Lumps of flesh fell to the wooden platform where, as with Mot, they sizzled before disappearing.
More flesh fell, and now, that which hung suspended from the noose was not recognisable as humanoid, but only as a clump of burning meat.
Soon, it, too, fell to the platform, sizzled, and was gone.
The arrow fell into the woman's hand, and as had the emaciated man, she returned it to DragonStar, solemnly thanking him.
