NaNoWriMo 11

That was even more wearing How could he know what to do, how to protect Nia, if there was nothing to protect her from except that thing out there? Especially when there was so obviously something in here that he couldn't see. He closed his eyes and lay he down on the ground. His hands felt nothing on the floor but pieces of rusting and rotting things, nothing that would cause her harm for now. There was a fierce pounding at the door behind them, the creature unwilling to let his meal escape so easily. That was the case, though- it couldn't seem to make the door move. That was no small relief to Kirn, as he had little hope of defeating it in this place, with Nia so wounded. Time seemed to take forever in this place of darkness and silence, except for his own heartbeat and the rustlings and various noises from the thing that was attacking them. His hand went to Nia's, holding it as he waited for silence once more. It would be easier to seek out any other enemies when the pounding stopped.

It evenutally did, though how ling it took he didn't know. The pounding grew erratic, weaker. He could smell some blood from the other side of the door, signalling that it had likely injured itself in the rush to get at them and it's attempts to break in. That was a good sign to him- it meant that if he was forced to fight it in some point in the future, he'd have a bit of an advantuage. That was the best he could hope for, really. And then it stopped, the noise, the ruslting, the shreiks. The wingbeats beat a retreat away, onto better prey, he hoped. That was also the signal he needed to get up and start figuring out another way to escape. He squeezed Nia's hand as reassuringly as he could, though she wouldn't be able to tell in her sleep, and rested his palms against the wall to the right of him.

Kirn's movements were slow and cautsios, though that didn't stop him from banging his shin into something at one point (it sounded metallic, and felt like it too. It was all he could do to not shout at the sudden pain). His hand scraped against something sharp that was a gainst the wall, and he could feel a failt trickle of blood that seeped from the scratch he recieved. Suddenly, there was nothing beneath his foot as he took another step. THe suddenness of it caught him off guard, and he stumbled forward, trying to catch his balance. It wasn't very successful- his foot came down hard on an obcect, sharp and pointed enough to get through his boot and into his foot. He finally list all balance and tumbled down the flight of stairs. He knew that he was making a bit of noise as he did so, and was unable to stop the various cries of pain that escaped during the tumble. He didn't know if he had passed out when he reached the end, but after his eyes reopened, Kirn felt as though he had rested for a bit- even though there was a pounding headache to go along with it. It was an odd combination.

He didn't move for a while, making sure that he wasn't really hurt, before sitting up and removing the object from his foot. It felt like a long and slender rod- a peice from an ancient, destroyed aparatus or perhaps from some sculpture or decoration. There really was no telling with no light to see it by. It made his imagination go wild with thoughts and speculation. It was hard to bring his thoughts back into the moment, where he needed them if he was going to protect himself and Nia.

Kirn stood, feeling pain shoot through his leg as he walked. It was hard, he could tell is was bleeding, but it would stop. The wound wasn't that large. The only thing he had to worry about was infection. And if Nia survived this, then she would be able to take care of that. He winced at another burst of pain, but kept going. His hands felt more sensitive to what was going on with the masonry. It was astonishing how he could tell little nooks and crannies apart from old carvings that had worn away, and was able to tell what had been painted so long ago. It was astonishing, but for all he felt... he felt no door. It unnerved him. It was even worse when she felt a slight breeze brush his hands- he couldn't tell where it had come from, and had no reason to have appeared. It was cold and dank, and the light scent that reached his nose was of must and ash. What was stirring down here? He didn't want to know, but realized that unless he found a way out, there would be little choice but to find out.

He kept going, and the path seemed to slope downward. The deeper he went, the deeper the darkness seemed to be. It was strange, how he could almost differentiate between shades of it at this point. Some of it was no more than a spot of grey in nothing but darkness, other times it was a deeper shade of black that seemed to mark someplace where a statue or something similar stood- or once stood, as some had obviously been made of things not stone. They were long gone, while some of the stone ones had crumbled bases, a few even having fallen into his path. With his night vision increasing, he could make out them and avoided the worst bumps that he encountered. He stopped for a moment, after what seemed to be an hour of walking. It probably wasn't but each footstep took him father away from Nia and deeper into danger. That was the only thing that could be ahead at this point. He didn't like the slight whispers of air that brushed against his skin, or the soft creackle that occasionally touched on the edges of his hearing. He would have taken it for hearing the things disintegrate around him, but at this point, he was taking no chances. Kirn turned around and headed back for Nia. He couldn't leave her alone like this, here, where there was no way of telling what was around her. She was defenseless enough without her herbs and medicines. This only made the situation worse, and he didn't want her to wake up without him nearby.

It seemed even longer to get back than it had leaving, perhaps because of his worry overriding his sense of time, perhaps because the darkness made it impossible to tell when it was. Kirn hit some things in the darkness he hadn't intended to or had gone over before. It seemed like a few of them were in different places, and that made things even more troublesome. The crackling came more often, louder than beofre. It wasn't his imagination- it was sure that something was there in the darkness, that he couldn't see or touch or deal with, and his heart raced from the fear that ran through him. Nia! She had to be all right! If she wasn't, he would... he would be in a lot of trouble, from the kingdom, from the Prince. How could he face his Leige, having failed in this task? She didn't deserve to die because of his incompetance, and the Prince would have his head for failing his saviour! He was gasping by the time he stumpled on Nia, quite literally. Her dark shape seemed to blend into the floor and the shadows of the things around him. The darker shades of the painting loomed over her on the walls, the masks of the Sylphs boring into them.

He didn't like the sound of the whispers, like crackling leaves, like the breath of a mummy that had revived. He had seen something like it in a travelling show once, and had no desire to repeat the excperience. THere had been no sign of bodies so far, and most of those had probably been rotted away long ago, if the age of this place was anything to go by. He placed his arms underneath Nia, lifting her so that she was cradled in his arms. He was unable to draw his sword, but if they escaped fast enough, that wouldn't be a problem. She was still in her dream world, though, and there was nothing else for it. Taking slow steps, he started back towards the way he came. The crackle-leaves sound grew louder, thicker, but he kept going. It grew distant as he headed down the path he had been travelling earlier- he wasn't about to go the other waty, since that was where he had come from and was fairly sure that there was no escape that way. This was their only hope.

The clacking of nails seemed to skitter around them. It was worse than the whispers. What was this? Why were they after them? Why were they even there to begin with? What exactly had happened here? All those questions ran through his head, distracting him. Kirn nearly stumbled and fell with Nia in his arms. It was a shock to him, and made him concentrate. Around him, though, he could hear the creaks of things unknown, the breaths and cries of creatures that would stirr the blood of any seasoned warrior with fear and longing to be back somewhere sade and sound. It was not to be so for him. All he had was the woman in his arms that he clung to tightly. Perhaps too tightly, for she cried out and stirred, nearly making him drop her again with the motion. "Be still!" He hissed harshly.

The tone hit something in her, and she stopped. Nia curled up into him, he could feel her trying to get closer, probably trying to ward off the fear of what was ahppening. That would be no surprise- he would let her down and hold her in their last moments if he could. He wanted the comfort she could give him right now, more than he had wanted anything in his life. What hope did they have to get out alive? Especially as he limped and stumbled and hit most everyhting in their paths, be it old furniture or statues that he had passed by twice before with little incident. The sloping floor leveled out, and he could feel her trembling in his arms as they heard the moans and voices of people that shouldn't be there- people that had been long dead. The coolness and wetness of the air on him made him realize they had reached the level the fog and mist had been at- something that didn't comfort him. They might as well be twice as blind with that! He gathered Nia closer. It had to be uncomfortable for her, but she made no sound.

Wherever they were, it seemed a little lighter than before. Vague shapes and shadows weaved around him. At first Kirn thought they were tricks of his imagination, making out shapes where there were none in an effort to make sense of the place around him. But after a minute, Nia had tugged on his tunic slightly, to catch his attention. Deeming it safe, or at least as safe as it could be here, he bend his head so that his ear nearly touched her lips. "I see people in the shadows. Please, am I going insane?" The question made him realize that what he saw were no shadows. They illuminated the painted faces on the wall, the Sylphs that guarded this place now that no one else did. They had to have been the ones that lived here- were they also the ones haunting it? It hardly seemed believable, but then again, that they had stumblied into this place and were not yet dead also seemed to be so. There was little else to do but to trust that these were indeed the spirits of those who had long since passed, though what they were doing was beyond him. Playing out their last moments? Frightening them on purpose? Anything seemed possible at this point, and equally dreadful. His grip didn't loosen.

There was little else to d but press on. A screech near his ear had him flinching, but there was no one there. Nia whimpered at his briefly- tightened hold, but was soundless and motionless. In this situation she had to be at a far worse disadvantage than he- she didn't have the fully-sensitive senses that he did, nor the capability of making out more than what the shapes and shadows seemed to be. They passed around them, through them, cutting them to the quick where they were with chill. Sometimes one passed by that relieved it with calding heat, but those frightened him more. Nia wasn't much better off. In most light she would have matched the paleness of these shades that haunted them. Now, she blended in for the most part, but with a bright look to her eyes that spoke of terror and caught him in their sight, begging for relief from the nightmares that surrounded them. There was nothing for him to do but press on. The way split in three ahead, each way looking equally dank and dangerous. He could hear a wet dripping from one entrance, and wind whistling through another in a way that sounded ominous and deadly. The third was as still as the tomb. He paused, and shapes began to form around him from the shades that had been before.

More whole than before, they shrieked and scolded, and made cries from which no discernable words could be made. And they were indeed directed at the two tresspassers, since the creatures that ran around them were decidedly fixed on them in motion and in the gaze that was fixed on them. It was no relief to them to know this. He could feel Nia trembling, about to snap from it all. Her voice finally rang out, trying to dorwn out the monstrous thunder that was filling the air around them. "What do you wish from us? How do we get out!" It seemed like a pointless question to ask those who hated them, but for whatever reason, the spirits were silenced. There was no motion as the stopped where they had floated by, no noise issued from their beings. It was as if they died a second death there, from those demands. Some parted from the room as still as death. They left it, cleared the way, made it so that Kirn could see a distance into it unobstructed. Wondrous as it was, he couldn't help but feel his gut twist. Could they trust these dangrous spirits, that dared to frighten them, that were of those who hated elves, which he surely was, and which she obviously had blood from? No. They couldn't, he decided, and that was enough for him.

Kirn didn't run with Nia in his arms, not like she was, but he pushed into the sea of spirits behind them. The energy and breath that they had was sucked from them like water from a cup, emptying them of will and heat. He felt as though he was going to freeze from it all, and was frightened for it. It was tempting to just sit down and curl up with Nia in his arms, to try and warm eachother with what little energy they had left. Wasn't that what they did in those mountain regions? Yes, and this way they would never be found out by those Sisters, who would surely behead him for doing such a thin, whatever the reason might have been. Ah, such a shame. That thought kept him pressing on. He didn't want to die from the cold, didn't want to dishonor Nia like that. She wasn't worth the trouble, and this place was not one to die in. He was a soldier- the place was the pbattlefieild. And Sylphs should die in the same way, tending those who had fallen. This was no battle, and she was the one who had fallen.

His blood which had been stirred by fear, and later by terror, was now stirring with determination. What right had he to die here, dishonorably, when he had not even completed the simple mission of retreiving his things? Ridiculous! He pushed on through, to the room with the water dripping that echoed throughtout the place and made it seem far larger and dangerous than it was. Well, at least, more dangerous than he hoped it would be. This was the place that they needed to be in. Shrieks followwed them, as did the spirits. They were sending up such a racket it was a wonder no other beast had come after him!

There was a deep growl behind him. Perhaps he had spoken too soon. That was not comforting in the least. He turned to look over his shoulder, but saw nothing in the almost- fog that the spirits created by crowding themselves together. He Hugged Nia as best as he could, then set her down gently. She clutched at him, trying to keep him from going, but the wound had made her weak, and the pain was eating at her. She could not keep her grip before giving a moan and whimper of pain. There was nthing he could do for her at this point than save her from whatever was coming for them. Or try his best to, at least, because he doubted his ability to fight would do much good here. His hands clenched the hilt of his sword. He had not cleaned it of Nia's blood earlier- a dreadful oversight that would have him reprimanded for neglecting his weapon. After all, this was what the soldier lived by- and died by, doubly so when it was not in working condition. He had no idea how to tell what condition it was in now, though.

He raised it, feeling the weight and helf of it in his hands. It was sa relief to have, relief to be carrying as some protection, though if this beast was as incorporeal as the spirits, he doubted it would be much help. Then again, if it was like the spirits, there would not be much to worry about. Too bad that wasn't the case. He could see someting with deep green eyes approaching through the strange sheild of must that the ghosts created. It looked ugly and dangerous. Like it would eat them up. He supposed it had to be hungry, living in this place by itself, with little else to worry on but the other creatures and whatever came through the portal. They were the latter, and doubly bound to make an interesting meal for it. The long-jowled creature had skin that dropped everywhere, like the skeleton wasn't big enough for the body it inhabited. It was bald, and he could see where the skin was shinging because of the light that emitted vaguely from the spirits.

The blue skin was just off enough from a nice color that it made the green look unnatural, or was it the other way arond? It looked horrendous, with that skin that was nothing like anything else he had seen in his life, a sick color, the color of death in the winter that came to the purple-skinned elves of the North. As if they had been dipped in the sky and left to rot for a few days. The off color that made others recoil in terror, that perhaps they had been inhabited by a spriti of the snow that had left them to die when all the warmth had been sucked out. What else was there to describe it as? He shuddered. It left him feeling colder than the spirits did, and those continued to weave in and out and around him and Nia. Nia seemed to be unable to see them, or the creature, because of her weakened sight. There was no motion of her head that let him know that she was aware fo their approaching doom. Why not, though? Even she had to know that something was wrong? But then again, perhaps she could hardly see him, and most definitely not what he was doing. It seemed her ears were on alert for what was going on, and were focused on him.

He would do the Prince proud and protect the Sylph. Kirn was determined to. If he didn't, he would... eh would.... There was no answer to that, for if he didn't, he was dead. That was the only option left. There was little time to waste. The creature semed to be sitting, watching him with eyes that peirced him in strange ways. Did it have powers of its own? unlikely, though sometimes beasts had been endowned with them through experiments, or had picked them up from living in places with too much magic. This place was made with magic, so it seemed reasonable to thing that perhaps the thing had been endowed it merely by existing here. After all, it had been ages since the Sylphs of this place had left, and from the look of things, they had been entrenched here for far longer than that. Who knew how many hundrreds of years it had been changing, the magic seeping into ti's core and becomgin a part of it's being? Because that was the only reason he could think of for his complete inability to move at the moment. He felt as frozen as anything, as an icicle deanging from some peasnat's roof, as a snowman that had been built in a field and left to watch over travellers.

It's eyes were glowing. It was bunching it's mucles, getting ready to move, getting ready to take out it's hunger out on the elf that stood before it. The cries of the spirits seemed to urge it on, and sounds that almost made it seem like laughter were issuing from all sides. What was this? Some sort of duel? A gladiator battle in the ruins of some long-forgotten city, held by particiapnats that had no money, to whom the earthly ritches were no more than the fields abandoned by the farmers? It made no sense. Jeers and all, that rang out, incomprehensible, but no longer because they were merely noise. Now it was some language that he had never heard or had heard of before. It resounded in his bones, harsh like the rock around them, but with moments of quiet clarity and a rhythm that spoke more to the softness of this place, the hiding that these creatures were so fond of.

For a brief moment, he wondered why Nia's station had been named after these creatures that were so clearly taking some sort of pleasure out of this. It seemed an off anachronistic thing, since they had long been enemies of the kingdom. Who knew? They certainly weren't going to give an answer, and Nia was as clueless as he was about what they were saying- he could see it in her eyes and the way she furrowed her brow. The glance around him made her attention catch on the creature that had begun to lope towards him, fangs at the ready. They gleamed silver in the misty,. faded light that seemed to reach across a thousand years to this place. The drool that fell from it's jaws coated the floor in a slick slime that was as green as the creature's eyes, Kirn could hardly help the shiver of disgust that ran through him. It alerted him that the balance of his sword was off, and in the dim light that shone off the smooth skin of the creature, so did it reveal that his blade was rusted. He could hardly believe his eyes. Rsuted? But it had only been forged this year! And it most certainly not have done so with nia's blood.

It had to be a trick of this place, but knowing that would do him no good against the attacking beast. He refocused his eyes and prepared to kill the thing