Kid Quest

Orlan's Trial: Senses

Rattles marched through the dungeon-like depths, with Orlan riding atop its shoulders, of the prison in which they both found themselves. The halls were labyrinthine, and often took the duo in circles. Doors sometimes led to cells, and sometimes to hallways, but were made of solid steel, requiring the two to open each door in order to know whether it was a way forward or another cell. In contrast, the cell Orlan had been placed in was makeshift, as though the bars had been stabbed into the rock.

The silence of the abandoned location was deafening, and Orlan could hear the echoes of the water in his cell dripping. The sound was so loud that it was as though he could still see the puddle, water dripping from the ceiling, and even the bars of the cell. He shook his head, snapping himself out of his daze, and patted Rattles on the head before hopping off its shoulders and running onward.

After a few feet Orlan stopped, his eyes had met a door that hadn't been closed, and his curiosity rose higher. He stared for a moment, half expecting someone to walk through, but no one did. As he stepped forward towards the door, he felt the boney, skeletal hand of Rattles on his shoulder. He turned to face the skeleton, which shook its head, and pointed at the door Orlan had seen.

They decided that, for now, they would leave that door alone, and Orlan hopped back onto Rattles' shoulders. The higher view in this area allowed Orlan to see handrails up ahead.

"That way Mr. Rattles!" Orlan heartily exclaimed, pointing towards the railing. The skeleton obeyed. They walked out into a large circular area, facing inward towards the yard. In the center was a basketball court, surrounded by benches, workout equipment, a track for running, but no people. It didn't look as though anyone had been in this place for some time, and Orlan never once thought to question why there was a basketball court in a place with elves and monsters.

As the duo looked out upon the yard, Orlan thought he heard whispers, barely louder than the breeze, from behind them. He turned, causing Rattles to twist around until the top and bottom halves of its body were facing opposite directions. The source of the whispers was nowhere in sight, and the wind whipped through the halls, sending chills up Orlan's spine.

The door just ahead of them, the one that hadn't been closed, slowly opened further on its own. The loud creaking noise echoed throughout the prison, and Orlan found himself covering his ears. When the noise stopped, Orlan patted Rattles on the head, and they slowly approached, with Rattles' legs still facing the wrong way.

The room was empty. Just a cell, stone walls, a single window too narrow to squeeze through, a wooden platform chained to the wall for sleeping, and a bucket. As Orlan stared into the room, the whispers came again, though this time more audibly.

"Come child," the whispers called, like noise on the breeze, "Into the cell. Come."

Orlan listened carefully, he'd never heard anyone speak in this manner, and he found it difficult to understand why he felt uneasy about the words. Then, as if sensing his hesitation, they spoke once more, this time addressing Rattles.

"Skeleton, bag of bones. Listen well, do as you're told." As the whispers began, a small breeze blew around Rattles' skull, carrying the words with it, "What life is this you've been regifted, hollowed bones that never sifted. Take a step, and bring the child. We'll take care of him for a while." The whispers died away, and to Orlan's surprise, Rattles began slowly walking towards the door.

Once again, Orlan felt an uneasy feeling. He hadn't trusted the whispers to begin with, but now that Rattles was listening, Orlan felt only fear. It shook him with each step Rattles took, a shock of fear to match each thump, each heartbeat, each half breath caused by the force of skeletal feet.