Tales of the Vangen: The Black Ministry's Betrayal (Book 1)

Chapter 21: A Hunter Stalks His Prey

Ask any ordinary citizen of Byzantia about Gray Hogs Keep, and they'll likely tell you one of two things; That the bastion was either a ruthless testament to the Empress' cruelty or at the very least a damningly impressive display of architecture. To Culter, however, the place was nothing more than an eyesore sitting on the face of Byzantia like an ugly, gray zit. For you see, Gray Hogs Keep was not of stone, but of solid iron. Traitors iron. Their weapons, their armor, any scrap of metal worth taking went to the heap. For Fifty long days, the Forgelords slaved over hammers beating, troughs hissing, the forge's heat kissing at their burnt flesh.

All in all, it was an impressive piece of work, of that there was no doubt, but Culter felt Gray Hogs lacked direction. He would have nailed a few bodies to the walls.

Still, the walls of the bastion were menacing enough. The iron had been forged in sheets, using nothing more than heat and pressure to fuse the weapons and armor into one massive slag. Sword points jutted out of the sheets in odd intervals. Breastplates and helmets gave the illusion of bodies emerging from black tar. All the while, a layer of rust left an impression of weeping sores in the metal.

Culter pondered all this as he sat against a nearby wall facing Gray Hogs, hidden by the bastion's massive shadow. The whole place was buzzing with activity. Caligati patrolled Gray Hogs walkways above and the streets below, their torchlight bobbing like will-o-wisps in the dark. No doubt, Custodia was in the central tower, plotting over her maps and magickly relaying orders to her troops. That could only mean Carnifex was in the dungeons, using his foul talent to make the prisoners sing.

A patrol walked near. Culter slipped back into the dark and kept watch over the foot traffic. Even with all her planning and preparation, Custodia could not make Gray Hogs a hundred percent impregnable. Human error should never be an afterthought. No one's perfect, after all. A guard stops to take a leak or gets bored and dozes off. These kinds of things happen, and it was those errors that Culter used to make his move.

An hour passed before he had memorized the comings and goings of the guard. Custodia was smart for once. She kept the patrol shifts in tight half-hour increments to make sure no one was slacking—a change of pace to keep the men on their toes. The first patrol exited through the south gate and circled the Keep before coming back inside. A new patrol marched out soon after.

Additionally, a patrol would come the opposite way, from the north gate. The two patrols would pass each other and affirm of any strange sightings. Smart, but not as smart as Culter wished. Getting inside would be a breeze.

Culter waited until the patrol from the south gate had finished it's third rotation. Three Caligati stood before the looming iron gate. One reached out and gave the metal a hard knock, making the gate clang like a distant church bell. A slat opened up. A set of eyes questioned the Caligati before the sound of a mechanism began to turn. Slowly, the gate rose from its bearings.

Culter made his move, dashing out from his hiding spot, his stiletto unsheathed. The Caligati closest died first. Culter slid the needle between the steel plates around his rib cage, puncturing his heart. The second Caligati turned and met his end at the tip of the stiletto slicing through his throat. The third didn't even have a chance to react as Culter fell to his knees, grabbed the Caligati by his leg, and yanked him off his feet as he slid under the gate.

The guard watching the gate balked as Culter pulled himself up. He opened his mouth to yell just as the stiletto punctured his lungs. The man gave out a wheeze before he keeled over. In one deft move, Culter reached down, plucked the dagger from the guard's belt, and turned, hurling the weapon at the guard controlling the gate's mechanism.

The blade sank deep into his forehead. He lost hold on the mechanism, and the gate came crashing down, right into the chest of the Caligati that Culter had tripped earlier. Armor crunched. Bones snapped. The man's legs kicked out reflexively as the gate crushed him.