"I came too early…" he heard a whisper and then the figure was gone.
His lips parted and his eyes widened. But he could not explain it. He was sure it was not his illusion or it was? He did not have time to dwell on it as the man walked closer.
"So, you have opened your eyes!" he heard the voice at the door. The man was already inside? But why did Elias not see him before?
His eyes searched the prison, making the man furious.
"You still have the energy to have a casual look around, eh?" The man came close and kicked him in his gut. His pointed shoes had sharp needles that pierced his skin earning a loud shriek from Elias.
"Aaahhhhh."
"Yes, that is how you should suffer." the man grinned with a sadistic look.
Elias couldn't breathe. The pain was overwhelming, but something deeper surged within him.
Something that wasn't pain, or fear, or even despair. It was fury that burnt his chest. Not wild or screaming rage, but something colder and controlled which let him think before he could act. It curled around his bones like a fire encased in ice.
The guard's laughter was still ringing in his ears when Elias moved.
With speed that surprised even himself, Elias twisted, slamming his shackled wrists upward. The thick iron links caught the man's jaw with a sickening crunch.
The guard staggered backward with a strangled scream. Elias didn't stop. He lunged forward. How he didn't know! But he slammed the man's head against the stone wall. But one hit was not enough. So he did it twice, thrice! Until his face could not be recognized anymore. Blood smeared across the damp stones and this time, it did not belong to a victim.
And when Elias let go of the guard, the man collapsed with a wet thud. For a moment, Elias stood frozen. His chest heaved. He was shaking. His mind screamed at him: You killed him. You killed him.
But then rage surged again. He did well. They were just abusers who deserved to die. He was sure he was not the first innocent that was tortured by them. Justice did not prevail in prisons, wealth and power did!
He spat on the crumpled body. "You think I'm a rat?" he whispered hoarsely. Then he kicked the guard in the ribs once, twice until his strength gave out. The chains still dragged from his wrists, but the shackle keys now jingled on the corpse's belt.
With trembling fingers covered in blood, he freed himself.
There was no time to waste!
Elias stumbled into the corridor, dragging one foot behind him. His tunic clung to open wounds, his breaths ragged. His ears were filled with phantom ringing, but through it, he heard voices.
More guards were coming in his direction. Perhaps they have heard the guard's screams. He had to act because they were coming fast.
He hid behind a pillar and crawled, ignoring the way his broken ribs screamed. Each breath came at the cost of agony.
He retraced paths sometimes ending at the same spot again. But his luck was good this time. He either did not meet the guards or they were busy enjoying their booze when he crawled past them.
He even found one snoozing in the path. He slowly got the hang of twisting hallways and did not lose his way anymore. He moved like a shadow, hiding behind old barrels and beneath broken stairwells.
When he heard footsteps coming closer, his heart hammered in his chest like a trapped bird. One mistake and he would be done for.
He was not a simple commoner now! He was an accused molester and evident murderer.
Finally, he saw it…the way to freedom, but—
'Tch!' Even though he was so close to his liberty that he couldn't get it.
The exit was heavily guarded by five alert guards. There was no way that he could walk past them or crawl. They held the swords tightly around their hilt. It would not even need strength to kill a man like him.
"Where the hell were they!" he heard one of them shout and he flinched. "My shift had already ended. I am waiting for the dump cart to leave so that I can go home. I was told it would be here half an hour ago. Why am I still waiting?"
The man barked with anger. The other knights shivered under his threat and scrambled around.
Elias frowned. Why would the head guard wait for the garbage? But it also meant that a cart was leaving the prison. If he could hide in it... His eyes stirred, and he waited, holding his breath.
In fifteen more minutes, the guard returned.
"They said that another prisoner died, and they were mixing his body in the garbage. It is in the eastern wing and would be here any moment." the man spoke apologetically.
The head guard gave a non-committal grunt and counted the silver coins. Elias dragged himself to the eastern wing.
And then he saw it: a garbage cart, half-filled with rotting refuse, broken wood, discarded cloth…and dead bodies.
He waited for the man who was dumping the 'garbage' into the cart to take the driving seat before he moved.
He crawled into it without a second thought, burying himself under the waste, the stink nearly making him gag. He stilled his body as he heard footsteps approach the cart and then it was dragged out.
"Check it," the head guards barked. Elias bit down hard on his lip.
Steel slid into the garbage heap once, twice. A blade sliced across his arm. Warm blood gushed down to mix with the filth. He did not move. He did not scream. He became a corpse.
His face was hidden by another dead body, and they fortunately didn't bother looking at the dead meat's face.
"Take it already; I can smell rotting flesh and garbage turning red!" he heard the man barking again.
Hastily, the guards pushed the cart forward, out the back gates.
It was dumped hours or maybe minutes later. Elias couldn't tell. The world spun too fast.
With a thud and the clatter of waste, Elias was thrown into the filth-ridden alley. The stench was overpowering. Rats squealed nearby. He lay motionless, waiting for them to leave, his ears strained to hear any possible sound but for hours, there was none.
Only after that did Elias finally stir.
He pushed himself up slowly, like a man reborn through pain. His body trembled with every movement, every breath. His wounds were raw, his skin broken, but he was alive.
It was so strange that a few hours ago he would have been terrified at the sight of dead bodies, but now, he just didn't care about anything but to get out of this place and reclaim his freedom.
He stood beneath the stars for the first time in days, his gaze burned not with hope, but with something deeper.
"She will regret it," he whispered hoarsely, tasting blood. "They all will."