The boy halted sharply as he heard movement to his left. "Well that's accurate, but you're not special enough to be put in an empty cell." There was no light to reflect their features, but the person sounded like a man.
"I know you just woke up, and you might not be able to think straight with how hard you hit that wall, but it stinks in here because everyone before us died of starvation. Just give up, okay kid. The sooner you do that the less miserable it is in here."
The boy sighed as he nursed his migraine. "Then how long have you been in he-" The boy tried to ask, but he vomited as a victim to his nausea.
"I've been here long enough to see two people die before me, and from the sound of it you don't have much longer yourself." The man, understanding what was meant, gave his reply with a calm tone, almost like it didn't apply to him. The boy found the man's general location from his voice, and the shadow his eyes strained to see.
"Well, if I am to die with you may I know your name?" The boy rasped from his burning throat. "Raimoan, what is your name boy?" The boy paused before giving his answer, "I- I am a slave and my name was stripped from me as my last possession."
Both sat in silence as if listening to the dripping of the ceiling would fix their problems. "So, slave, what did you do that was so heinous that they just had to separate you from the rest?" The boy's hands clenched in the fist as he answered, "A beast ravaged a field large enough to feed three thousand and I was blamed as the one who lured it this close to the capital."
"Wow, well it's nice to hear nothing changes." The man remarked through what sounded like it was through gritted teeth without any anger behind it. "If that's it then I was bringing the quarterly tribute and was branded a thief for having so much."
"Excuse me Mister, but you don't sound like a thief. You're too obnoxious." The boy spoke with certainty. "'Excuse me'? That's not the kind of language you use for me boy. I'm not a petty foreman or some guard."
The boy didn't know how to respond, so he didn't answer. "Now I know I already said to give up, but what if I said I had a key that fits the door?" The boy answered immediately, "I would stare in one direction with distrusting eyes because I can't see you."
"You'd do so for good reason, this is not a key made of wood, or metal; this is a skeleton key." "I still can't see it." "That doesn't matter; I made it and it fits." Raimoan spoke matter of factly.
"I still don't trust you and it scares me to think of how you 'made' a skeleton key in a room of only dead bodies." The man paused as if to gather his thoughts and said, "The other two were fiends and useless fools, so I ate them to survive until I had a way out. I was planning to eat you as well to make a backup key, but from the sound of things you don't have much to offer."
The boy remained silent not offering any excuse for the volatile man to latch onto. "I'll open the door, you can choose to try your luck on escaping with me, or stay here alone." The boy then heard footsteps, loud and clear, then with some scratching and a click the door opened.
The boy was shocked at what the man looked like, namely his skin covered in dry, black flakes and missing a middle finger. The man stood as one who had his clothes stolen from him, and with pride unbefitting his situation. "I'll go left; you go right when you finally grow a pair."
The boy must have realized that the door wouldn't stay open until he goes through puberty because he ran out as fast as he could. However, he got up too fast and almost passed out before hitting the wall opposite to the door. As he caught his bearings, he put a hand against the wall to support himself.
Tourches lined the walls with a breeze shaking each flame from a hole in the wall behind the them. Light was not seen through the holes, but the cold air nipped at the already frail frame of the boy as he passed. The boy felt more sleepy with each blink of the eye, but he pushed forward despite the exhaustion.
It didn't take him long to make it to a cross road going left or right. The boy chose to go to the left, as he didn't know which way was the right way. It was just as he made it a few strides forward a door opened behind him.
Three men came out laughing out of context. The laughter halted when the first and fattest one who then punched the gut of the skinny one to make him shut up. With a growl he said, "How did you escape, slave?"
The boy tried to step back and run but the short muscular guard grabbed him in a vice grip. The boys eyes stung for not having enough water to cry anymore, so it just looked like he was scowling in defiance. The tall one not liking it one bit picked the boy up in the air by the throat slamming him into the wall.
"Talk brat, or else I'll burn your face off!" The man spoke bringing the boy closer to the torch mounted to the right. The boy gripped at the fingers wrapped around his neck while grunting in pain.
"Nock it off; the kid can't speak like that. Let him go and let me handle him." The fat one commanded. So the boy fell to the ground, then struggled to raise himself which became impossible when the fat one stepped on his back.
"Tell us how you got out and this will be all over." The fat one offered like a mercy. "I didn't do anything!" The hoarse voice of the boy came as his final plea. "Wrong answer." The man declared as he kicked the boy into the air.
He hit the ground hard with his shoulder popping out of its socket. Unable to resist any further he watched as all three men moved to stomp on the boy. It was then, as if in a dream long forgotten, a voice thundered, and with it the boy's fate was sealed.