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

Chapter 25: A Tooth for a Tooth

 The deeper Culter descended into Gray Hogs dungeon, the worse the smell became. For some odd reason, the Wardens of Byzantia had a terrible habit of not washing their prisoners. In the cold, desiccated air, it left a greasy, foul bitterness in the back of his throat. Culter spat, and yet the taste remained.

Even in the belly of Gray Hogs, Culter's eyes adjusted quickly to the dark. After so many nights spooking on rooftops and smuggling goods out of dank sewers, it was practically second nature. He glided down the steps, every footstep assured by the solid stones beneath him. It wasn't until he had reached the bottom that the familiar flicker of torchlight greeted him.

A Warden patrolled down the hallway, his back facing Culter. The torch he carried guttered out a limp flame, cascading shadows along the moldy stone walls and iron prison bars. And from those shadows, a hand lunged out, grabbing at the Warden's surcoat.

The Warden hissed. "Let go of me, you mangy fecker." He slapped the hand away with his torch, revealing a dozen dirty faces watching him behind the iron bars. The hand's owner, a grizzled looking piece of flesh, snarled with a mouth full of broken teeth.

"Reach out like that again, and I'll cut your hand off next time." The Warden presented his sword. The prisoners pulled back instantly, their manic gazes a little more doe-eyed now that the iron had been introduced. The Warden sneered and slid the blade back into its sheath.

"Thought not." The Warden laughed. That was when Culter struck. He emerged from the darkness, and into the Warden's light. First, his stiletto, glittering like the night sky as it pressed gently into the man's neck. Then his arms. One around the man's waist and the other on his shoulder. Then finally his clean-shaven, alabaster head, smiling like a Dybbuk from one of those Juddic fairytales.

"Oh sweet Jesa." The Warden whispered, realizing too late the peril he was in.

"Where is Carnifex?" Culter asked.

The Warden lifted a wary finger, pointing farther down. "I..I...In the grand hall. Interrogating the p...p...prisoners."

"Good lad." Culter smiled. He felt his fingers beginning to ache with anticipation. Waiting for the moment when his blade met the soft resistance of flesh.

"P...p...please let me go." The Warden was beginning to shake so bad that Culter had a hard time keeping a grip on him. It would be hard getting a clean kill at this rate.

Culter looked past the Warden into the hungry eyes of the prisoners. None of them had said a word during his little exchange, but they had watched him with the same familiar anticipation that coursed through Culter. It gave him a wondrous idea.

"If you say so." Culter kicked the man into the prison bars. The Warden fell forward, into the outstretched arms of his prisoners. Gnarled fingers hooked into him like flesh in nettle. They pinned him against the bars, swallowing up his screams with their own howling fury.

Culter didn't wait for them to finish. He turned and meandered down the hallway, listening on as the Warden screamed before a bone snapping crunch silenced him. Hopefully, he had the key to the jail cell. Otherwise, the prisoners were going to have a terrible time getting out. He'd release them eventually, but not after paying his dear, stupid cousin a visit.

The Grand Hall was easy enough to find. It was the only vaulted room in the entire dungeon. The walls and ceiling opened up to a vast cavern, lit with torches that left the room smoky and ashen.

Torture devices of all types littered the room, ranging from the brutishly simple to the tastefully inane. Culter counted several racks, stocks, and chains for the unimaginative lot, but he spied a few devilish pieces besides. An iron maiden here, a Hispanus Donkey there, and a Judas Cradle much to Culter's surprise. He hadn't seen one since his stint in Hiberia. In the center was an iron brazier, brimming with coals that burned a high, fat flame over the back of an even greater, more corpulent man.