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Toby thought he heard something, like a toddler with pots and pans.
The sound grew louder, so he tried to pull his blanket up over his head.
Something was wrong with his mattress, and he was freezing. He tried to roll over, but everything was wrong.
“Ge’ up!” said a strange voice.
Toby opened one eye. He blinked twice and couldn’t see much. A piece of straw picked that moment to introduce itself to his ear canal.
He sat up to remove the offending item. Stiff, sore muscles punished any sudden movements.
“Ge’ up if ye want to eat.”
Toby opened the door.
On the stair stood an ancient man whose eyes suggested he ran out of life long before he ran out of living.
Toby stretched his aching arms. “Morning.”
“Brilliant observation.”
Toby brushed off the clinging strands of hay and straw. He slipped on his boots and followed the old man.
“I’m Toby.”
“I know.”
They descended the spiral stairs in silence.
“You have a name?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Am I in trouble?”
“Ye have no idea.”
“What is up with this place?”
The old man stopped his limping gait and looked at the ceiling. “Up?”
“Never mind.”
They exited the stairs as the old man mumbled, “Another arrogant failure with delusions of grandeur.”
“Hey, I didn’t ask to be here.”
“Then leave.”
“I can’t.”
“Says who?”
“My father.”
He huffed. “Another failure.” The old man kept walking.
“Hey!” Toby grabbed at his arm.
The man moved like liquid lightning; he blocked the grab and used a wrist lock to put Toby on one knee.
Toby’s eyes watered with pain, but he didn’t blink as they locked stares.
The old man’s glare never wavered, but he nodded. “Ye have spunk,” and he released the grip. “And if yer nice, I might just teach ye that move.”
Toby stood up and took a couple of steps back while he rubbed his wrist. “Who are you?”
“Carrick.”
Toby waited. “Why are you here?”
“To make sure ye eat and get to Teacher on time. Assuming ye waste no more o’ me time.”
Carrick huffed again and led Toby through a maze of narrow, cold corridors dimly illuminated by smoky candles. They entered a large hallway; several tapestries lined one wall; ornate chairs lined the opposite.
“What is this place?”
“The Hall of Heroes.” He kept walking. “Don’t get yer hopes up.”
“What?”
Carrick stopped and raised his deformed right hand. “What do all these people have in common?”
He shrugged.
“They’re dead or damaged beyond usefulness.”
Toby didn’t know what to say.
“Have they taught ye nothing?”
“I just got here.”
Carrick turned, shaking his head, and mumbled, “Excuses.”