Path Of The Broken

26. Prisoner

26

Prisoner

Simon turned as one of his people, Keith, walked into his rooms. He grimaced. Alex had killed a great many of his good people when he’d come hunting him. Thankfully, since Alex’s rampage had been contained to Vallantia and he also had a base in Callenhain, he hadn’t managed to find and kill all of them. Simon smiled. Not that it was taking long to fill the ranks of the League of Skulls, human nature being what it was.

“My apologies for the interruption, Skull Lord.” Keith grinned at him, pushing his unkempt red hair out of his eyes.

“I’m sure you aren’t sorry. What is it?”

“You did ask to be notified of unusual goings on at the palace.”

“What is it?” Simon growled at the man, impatient.

Keith grinned at him, not concerned by his display of temper. “One of the maids that works in the kitchen sent word back about a prisoner.”

“People ending up in the cells are not unusual, Keith.” Simon went to turn his back on the man in dismissal.

“It is when it’s Elite that guard him and he’s a healer that is also a member of the Order.”

Simon swung around, his eyes wide. “How does she know this?”

“She had to prepare a meal for him and the servants are all gossiping about it.” Keith shrugged, his tone matter of fact.

Simon’s eyes narrowed as he contemplated that small piece of information.

“Send Blake to deal with the healer.”

Simon turned his back on Keith as the man nodded and went to do his bidding. If he understood correctly, the healer should have already been dead. If he was alive and a prisoner of the Crown, it meant something had gone wrong. It wouldn’t do at all for the healer to give up his secrets.

Blake kept the veil wrapped tightly around him as he walked carefully through the palace. He shivered. The temperature was noticeably cooler down at this level given it was underground. It wasn’t common for him to have a job at the palace, although this place was just as easy to infiltrate as most places, at least for him, unlike most of his contemporaries, who were human. Having even limited power like he did still gave him many advantages over a normal human.

The only concern was that the Elite were reportedly on guard over his target. Still, the lords and ladies were all busy attending a banquet where the king and crown prince were in attendance. If the Elite were on duty over the special prisoner, he doubted it would be anyone powerful. They would be on duty in the ballroom.

Seeing the locked metal door with ordinary guards on duty on the other side, Blake stopped and waited. He wasn’t powerful enough to appear in the cell but he could hide himself with the veil and walk through the doors when they were opened.

Hearing a noise, Blake looked up and grinned, seeing the servant bearing a tray of food. Just in time. As the man walked past him, the guards inside opened the door, pushing the bars back. The servant mumbled his thanks and Blake, keeping his step light, walked behind him through the doorway into the cell blocks. He gave no mind to the door as it clanged shut behind him, his attention on the two members of the Elite sitting at a table halfway down the row of cells. These ones were for special prisoners of the Crown. Blake looked around at the small windowless rooms with three solid rock walls and metal grates for doors.

He eyed the Elite and smiled. The Skull Lord had been correct. These men were not strong and unless he did something stupid they would be unlikely to detect him. One of them looked up and grunted. He stood up, taking a key off the table and walking down to the next cell.

“Move back to the wall,” the guard barked at the occupant of the cell that Blake assumed was his target, particularly since the rest of the cells appeared to be empty.

Blake heard the metal clunk as the bolt drew back and the Elite pushed the door open. The servant placed the tray on the table, picking up the bowl with spoon and a metal mug and nodded at the guard who remained at the table.

Blake nearly laughed out loud in amusement but stopped himself in time. Obviously the rest of the food on the tray was for the guards. That should keep them preoccupied long enough while he did his work. Once again he walked behind the servant into the cell. He stood out of the way as the servant placed the bowl of what looked like oats and the mug of water on the small table without ceremony and turned to leave without comment.

Given it was usually high-ranking prisoners of the Crown who graced these cells, they had a few more amenities than the cells for the common criminals—like the privacy of their own cell, with a basic cot, a table and a small wooden chair that adorned the otherwise stark stone cell. Still, it was a luxury compared to the regular cells.

Blake paid the clang and rattle of the key that signalled the cell door being closed and locked no mind at all. He grinned; they’d be back soon enough. He eyed the man he’d come to kill. The man had been huddled in a miserable ball against the far wall. He’d obviously learned not to disobey his keepers. He’d been stripped of everything except a basic linen shift, even his feet bare on the cold stone floor.

As his target walked forward to reach for his food, Blake moved quietly behind him, keeping his concealment.

Shhh… be still, traitor.

The healer froze as he’d been ordered, trembling. These corrupt healers were so open to compulsion if you knew how to target their broken bonds. Thankfully Blake was fully aware of how to deal with them. This wasn’t the first of these he’d been sent to kill over the years.

Taking the coiled rope over his head, he stepped carefully up onto the stool, then table. Having prepared the noose earlier, he made short work of stringing it up on the chain that held the lamp hanging from the stone ceiling. He knew he had to hurry; the guards would probably be back for the bowl and mug soon.

Step up on the stool.

Blake watched, his eyes glittering as a sweat broke out on the man’s forehead, shaking as he complied.

You know what to do. Don’t worry, it will be quick, you don’t want to compromise the Order.

The healer reached up and grabbed the noose, and standing on his toes he placed it around his neck. A tear trailed down his face as he trembled and tightened the noose without requiring direction. Without ceremony Blake kicked the chair out from under the man. It smashed into the wall. His victim fell the short distance, jerking on the end of the rope as the distinct noise of his neck snapping sounded. Blake backed up and positioned himself to one side of the door.

The Elite on duty walked up to check on the prisoner, his bored expression melting as he saw the healer dangling from the ceiling. The guard swore, calling for his companion as his key rattled at the lock and he yanked the door open. Blake waiting long enough for the second guard to enter before he eased out the door, careful not to make a noise as he made his way to the next door at the end of the corridor. He didn’t have to wait long. He grinned as one of the guards pelted up to the door at a run, keys rattling at the door he burst through it, bellowing for assistance.

Blake sighed happily at a job that had gone to plan and made his way carefully out of the palace the way he’d gone in. Of course there was a servant who was going to have a very bad day trying to explain that he hadn’t dropped the rope off to the prisoner when he’d left the food. That, however, wasn’t his concern.