The Thief of Winter

Chapter 1 - Lights Out

This was the darkest and most miserable hole Keir had ever had to sit in. And that should mean something - because, as a street rat, he knew all about dirty holes. The musty smell of old wood, dust, and soap hung in the tiny chamber, where he couldn't even lie down lengthwise.

When the king's guards picked him up and dragged him through the corridors, Keir hoped for the damp, musty dungeon. There could have been no better way for the thief to escape, for most of the dungeon vaults were underground and thus damp and wet.

He had heard puddles in some of the chambers, and when it rained, some particularly miserable cells were even partially submerged. Usually, though, these stories were carried from one crook's ear to another with an oppressed tone in dim alleys. Whether it might be deterrence, just stories, or the truth, he could not say. Keir never needed to make a trip to the palace's dungeons - like most bandits who roamed the streets. However, if it was true, it sounded to him more like he might as well have been handed keys to his cell.

That was another reason he dared to talk big and wink at the beautiful princess while the guards dragged him out of the royal chamber. Admittedly - the break had not worked out quite as he had planned. Actually, the beautiful princess was supposed to be taking her beauty sleep at that late hour, and Keir had wanted to proceed as usual: grab the most valuable thing that the rich snobs left lying around - and didn't really miss anyway - and then go as quickly as he had gotten in. But then the little princess had still been awake, had taken him by surprise, and, to his misfortune, had thrown the cursed brush at him.

He could still have dealt with that. After all, she was not the first pretty nobleman's daughter, who would undoubtedly have been tired of the dull life in the castle and the oh-so-noble lords and, therefore, would have fallen for his incredible charm. This notorious rogue could pass through the mirrors ... forbidden and nefarious. And the forbidden, after all, had always made the young ladies fan themselves a little more frantically. Although they wrinkled their noses indignantly before attentive eyes, they playfully sank into his arms at night. By the time the virtuous ladies finally called the guards, he had disappeared through the nearest mirror. Richer by quite a bit of booty and a kiss or two. This time, however, his gate shattered into thousands of shards right before his eyes. If his misfortune had ended there, he could have lived with it.

But then the guards were in the room faster than he could say 'oops' - and they weren't even wearing the bare armor, but damned tabards over it. Thinking he would be thrown into the dreaded dungeon, he still had a good laugh. He had underestimated the king and his advisors. And instead of jail, he ended up HERE. Not in the dungeons where damp, shiny walls or puddles could be found ... No. The cunning bastards had been very aware of his abilities and had locked him in a damn BROOM CLOSET! Between buckets, stinking brooms, and brushes!

His stomach growled and spasmed so loudly at regular intervals that he could barely hear his thoughts. The thief didn't know precisely how long he had been locked in the cursed chamber, but from his dry tongue and chapped lips, it could be the second day by now. The pounding pain in his head had steadily increased without water ... and the bastards were smart enough not to bring him any. Groaning, Keir ran his hand over his face, trying to dispel the dizziness making the world go round in front of his eyes, despite the dim darkness. There was simply nothing here through which he could escape. The bucket, which he had been able to feel after an exhausting search, was made of wood, and there was nothing else lying around here that could be of use to him. No smooth surface, no liquids. It would have been of little help to him in this miserable darkness, barely allowing him to see his hand before his eyes.

Suddenly, however, another sound penetrated his dulled senses. Keir squinted his eyes and tried to isolate the roaring in his ears from the sounds and concentrate. Was he mistaken ... or did he hear the clanking of chainmail and scuffing of boots approaching?

"Hello? Is anyone there?" the thief called out, his face contorted by his disgustingly scratchy voice. Usually, it sounded velvety and dark, marked by the accent of his homeland in the South, which he had adopted from his parents and never discarded. Disoriented, he groped through the darkness to where the wooden door blocked his path to freedom.

"Hello, let me out!" he croaked, banging his fists against the unyielding wood. The dull throbbing penetrated the darkness of his prison and made his head rebel once more. That little effort alone made his legs go weak. "Or at least give me something to drink!" he demanded hoarsely as a flicker at his feet caught his attention. At last, he saw more than bottomless darkness - some light penetrated through the crack and illuminated the cold stone at his feet.

"You're still cheeky, scum," a growling voice came to him from the other side before a bolt was pulled back with a creak, and the door was unexpectedly yanked open. "You'll get over that in a minute."

The young thief staggered half a step forward when he suddenly lost his supporting footing. His head lifted, and he squinted against the dancing lights before his eyes, which were trying to adjust to the glow of the torches. He tried to discern exactly where he was or if there was an opportunity to escape. But he did not get that far.

The last thing he saw was a spiteful grin on the guard's lips - and the fist that flew toward him and crashed into his face a second later. Stars exploded before his eyes, then the lights went out for Keir, and everything went black.

Wordcount: 1.034 Words