“Saller! On
your feet,” barked a guard as he pushed the cell door open. Inside a tall broad
man sat on his bedroll facing the wall.
“Turn the f**k around,” snarled the guard. Saller turned his head slightly in
response and a disgruntled sneer crept onto his face. His back was littered
with scars, most were old whipping wounds though a few seemed even more brutal
in nature. The guard turned slightly to face the two others that stood outside the door,
“did I f*****g stutter?” Turning back to Saller he swallowed his rage, “turn
around, filth.” His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
Saller turned to face the wall
again, his jaw clenched. The guard hurriedly marched towards him and clasped an
enraged hand on his shoulder. Before the guard could give another command
Saller turned to grab his wrist and with a furious yell pulled him over his
shoulder. The deafening clash of plate armour on stone echoed throughout the
cell as the guard slammed into the wall and collapsed to his knees. Saller was
on the winded man like a hound and lifted his knee high into the air to bring
his foot down on the guard’s face. There was an audible crunch as his jaw snapped
to an excruciating angle. The guard wailed in agony and brought a shaky hand up
to his face. Saller’s foot slammed down onto his head again. Another scream tore
from the guard’s lopsided mouth before he twitched into silence. The two guards
by the door charged into the cell, both seemingly caught unawares. Saller
tugged the whimpering man’s sword free from its sheath and turned to face them.
Both were adorned with mail armour and wielded well-kept longswords. Saller
wore nothing but ragged cloth shorts.
“Put the blade down, prisoner!” shouted one
of the guards, he seemed young and his tone was uncertain.
“Shut it, he ain’t walking out of ‘ere…” the other guard sneered, approaching Saller.
The younger guard watched his companion move forward warily. Saller swung out
at the man as he came closer and their swords met with a loud clang. The guard
pulled his blade back and Saller stumbled forwards slightly with the force of
his swing. Wasting no time the guard brought a swift backswing down towards
Saller’s now exposed side. With shocking speed for such a large man Saller
pulled his own sword backwards to parry the blow. Shocked and overwhelmed by his
strength the guard’s sword was torn from his grip and clattered to the floor a
few feet away. Saller halted his forward momentum and brought himself back
towards the guard with a vicious kick. His shinbone sank deep into the guard’s
gut and forced a pained grunt from the man as he fell backwards. There was a
loud crack as his skull met with the stone wall and he crumpled to the floor.
Saller barely manged to lurch back
from the youngest guard as he charged forwards, sword at the ready. Dodging
away from two rapid strikes found Saller with his back against the wall. The guard
brought his sword up to strike down a finishing blow. Saller flinched and threw
a desperate hand out to clasp the youngster’s wrist. He looked as shocked as
his attacker to find he had halted the strike by getting a hold of his forearm.
The two locked eyes now and Saller saw panic. The young lad struggled against
the iron grip and soon found Saller’s knuckles smashing into his cheek. There
was another metallic clatter as the young guard dropped his sword and stumbled
backwards dazed. With a roar of frustration and bloodlust Saller heaved his
sword through the air and into the youngster’s face. The blade cut straight
through his mouth and took most of the bottom jaw off in its path. With a
gurgled scream the young guard dropped to the floor and writhed in agony. As
Saller approached the howling boy to finish him off, the guard who was knocked
out by the wall shakily rose to his knees. Saller moved to the man and grabbed
him by his hair, the guard looked up at him with muggy rage.
“Who ain’t walking of here?” growled
Saller, baring his dull yellow teeth into a savage snarl. In a series of vicious
motions Saller brought his knee into the guard’s face. After four hard strikes
Saller dropped the bloody pulp of a man to the floor. He lay motionless apart
from the occasional twitch. Saller bent forwards and caught his breath for a
moment as looked upon his carnage. The youngest of the guards fought for air
though the blood and gore that littered what little of his mouth was left. The
other with a badly broken jaw lay motionless and was bleeding out. Saller made
for the door and stood over the young lad with a weary scowl. The boy let out
one last pleading wail before Saller drove his longsword through his neck.
There was a pained gurgle before silence filled into the cell.
Checking the guards Saller soon
found a thick key, as well as a pair of poorly fitting boots. He crept out into
the darkness of the prison corridor. Pulling the large iron door closed behind
him, he took a deep breath and prepared to make his move.
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