A Thief's Shadow

The New Terror

Boots echoed on the staircase like drops of water in a cave. Someone was visiting. Nobody visited them. They were the lowest of the low, the most dangerous and the strangest. A giggle unintentionally escaped from his mouth. They were also the maddest. He hopped towards the front of the massive cage they held him in – it was called a cell he thought, but memories were steadily leaving him like a melting icicle – and grasped the bars with hairy knuckles. Excitement spread through him like the warmth of a good brew; oh, he hadn't had a good brew in a long time. Perhaps they were bringing him some! More giggles of excitement bubbled out between his cracked yellow teeth.

Beside him in more – what were they called again? Cells! – the other prisoners watched cautiously. Some giggled like him, they'd been in the dark for such a long time, while others watched with evil, glaring gazes. Many had seen more than their fair share of deaths, but most had caused more than their fair share of deaths. He thought he may have killed people too, for some of the memories he still retained showed dead, glassy eyes and blood, but there was no way of knowing for sure. Perhaps he could ask the guard!

Two pairs of boots became visible as the guard brought a new prisoner down to their section of the dungeon. The lowest section. He leaned forward eagerly; a new prisoner! Someone who would talk to him maybe! It was so exciting he nearly jumped up and down. Why hadn't he heard the other prisoner walking? Maybe that was one of the things he could ask him about. So exciting so exciting. The new prisoner almost blended into the shadowed, dark walls, but his eyes, a strange shade of silver, seemed to glow. All of a sudden he wasn't as eager to talk with the new prisoner.

A convict whose eyes still remained clear spoke. His voice echoed around the cell, giving it an oddly deep tone. "What did you do?" The prisoner didn't even react, though the guard did. His knees were very nearly knocking together and his fingers shook more than an old man's as he locked the new prisoner into his... his... cell. He was getting better at remembering the word.

Despite his fear, the poor yellowbelly, the guard answered the murderer's question. "H-he's a mute. C-can't t-talk." The guard very nearly dropped his keys from shaking. If only he would drop the keys. He was close enough that the new prisoner could grab the keys if he wanted to.

"So answer for him. What did he do to be put in this part of the dungeon?" The madman swung his head back and forth, unsure who to watch. He wasn't going to look at the new prisoner. The eyes... the eyes scared him. They weren't natural. The eyes weren't natural at all.

The guard looked yearningly at the door. He was the kind of guard that always answered questions unless it was treason to answer. Those guards were simple like dogs. The mad prisoner may have had a dog before... He couldn't remember, though. That memory was purposely blocked. "He led the General and his elite on the longest chase on record. He works for the Guild of Shadows, but did his heists solo. Before he was captured the lords and ladies called him a wraith, and even when one of the carriages he stole from was carefully watched the whole time, he managed to steal every piece of jewelry and gold without being seen. He also killed five men and knocked out fifteen while tied to a horse and handcuffed. That's all I've heard about him." The cowardly guard fled up the stairs before any more questions could be asked.

It was an impressive resume, and the other prisoners were clearly impressed. The one who'd spoken continued to glare. "Well congratulations wraith, you are on the level where the most dangerous prisoners are kept. Personally I believe only those who have killed twenty or more deserve to be here, but killing while handcuffed is pretty impressive. Did they attack all at once?" The new prisoner simply stared into the darkness. He was going to have to do something eventually. They hadn't had new entertainment in a while. Everyone knew everyone's story already. The speaker had killed over two hundred important men as an assassin for Nero. He never told the King who he worked for, so the kingdoms continued to believe they were at peace, but they knew. The dangerous prisoners knew, and their lips remained sealed tight.

The assassin stood and stepped closer to the new prisoner's cell. The new prisoner had been placed between two sets of three empty cells. He was safe from anyone grabbing him, but not from stones. The assassin threw one of these stones. "Answer me! Nod yes or no. Did they attack at the same time? All twenty?"

It wasn't going to end well; he'd many things like this play out. The new guy would end up getting hurt and the assassin would once again assert his dominance. The madman covered his eyes with dry, shaking hands. He didn't want to see it happen. Yet he had to. It was entertainment; it was something to do. The new prisoner slowly turned to face the assassin. He picked up the rock and turned it in gloved hands. Then he looked up. And nodded. And threw the rock. The resulting crack echoed through the entire chamber for a long time. The massive man, the assassin's goon who had thrown the rock in the first place, was swaying on his feet. His eyes had gone glassy, like the people in the madman's cloudy memories, and a bloody crack had split his head. With a thud and cloud of dust, he died. The assassin stared in shock and fear. His wide eyes looked from the new prisoner to his goon. The madman hopped forward. This was much more interesting than he'd expected. It wasn't going how he'd expected it to, either.

"Fascinating. Welcome to the dungeon level of the kingdom's deadliest. I'm Jax, King Nero's assassin. He would like you." The assassin smiled his unique, smirking smile and watched the newbie for a reaction. He simply sighed and continued his previous action of staring into space. The new prisoner wasn't going to be much entertainment. Even if he was mute, he could at least try to interact.

The madman sighed, copying the new one, and lay back down in his cell. He'd forgotten how many tiles were on the ceiling! A cry flew from his lips and he feverishly began to count again. If he didn't have them counted something... something bad would happen! He couldn't remember what, but something bad. He needed to get it done on time. Get it done on time the boss always said. On time on time he had to get it done on time...

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