Silence leaves an impression.
Darkness even more so.
In the endless gloom, it's the steady echo of his footsteps and the slight erratic rasp of his own breathing that are the only sounds that he can identify as Stricklander tried his best to navigate through the narrow tunnels of the Salt Mine. Even with the advanced sight of his troll form, and the aid of the lumnus crystal, there was very little to see.
Twenty paces.
In truth, He'd be hard pressed to remember just how long he'd been walking. The sound of Sadik dutifully shifting the Salt rock and other rubble that had caved in at the makeshift entryway had long since faded. And for the last forty, fifty or was it sixty? Paces there was nothing, nothing but the seemingly endless tunnel.
The blade of the axe broke through the salt wall with surprising ease. So much so that the force Walder put behind his swing sent him stumbling forward and into the crumbling wall with an awkward yelp. Behind him, Sadik smothered back a chuckle. Walder turned to snap at his mentor when he watched with horror as More rough stone collapsed and almost filled up the tunnel again. Almost, but not quite. Letting out a sigh of relief Walder stepped over to peer into the gap between the rubble.
Sadik had not moved at all. His shoulders shaking with barely restrained laughter.
"Do you think this is funny?" He snapped.
" Indeed my boy I think it is hilarious."
"Why?"
"Because the same thing happened the first time I came here… although Quintus pushed me through the wall rather then simply let me knock it down."
"I suppose I ought to be grateful you didn't do the same?" Walder said crossing his arms across his chest.
Sadik laughed again, "It was tempting...Why young changelings never try to look for another path is beyond me."
"Is there another path?"
"Who knows? No one has ever bothered looking." Sadik's Gold eyes met his through the wide gap.
"You realize that we've been separated right?" Walder growled, motioning to the rubble barrier.
"Very astute my boy, nothing gets past you."
"Shouldn't you be more concerned?!"
"Would you prefer it if I panicked?"
He glared. From the other side he heard Sadik sigh.
"I need you to go find the others, Walder."
"But…"
"You made the decision... this is the result. Live with it. Go now while I clear the way here."
Gingerly Walder continued to run his hand along the rough tunnel wall. His claws tingled as they scrapped against stone.
Ten more paces.
Nine, eight, seven. He mumbled to himself, hoping that counting out loud would be enough to fill the silence. Within the tunnel the numbers rebounded off the walls back towards him. The slight distortion to his own voice was far too eerie and Walder snapped his mouth shut, the slight click of his fangs clipping together was louder than one of Ashur's warhorns.
He flinched.
One.
Pausing, Stricklander pulled a blade from his cloak and with the back edge of his small axe, hammered it into the wall.
"Praise be to Gunmar!"
"We all must serve."
His pickaxe chiseled into the rough stone.
The sound echoed in the caverns of the Darklands, mingling with the hammering of tools from his fellow changelings.
Again and Again.
It's the only thing that's real.
He'd been there chained to the others for as long has he could remember. His memories consisted of the violent scraping of steel against stone and the pained gasps and groans of his brothers and sisters. On occasion one would collapse and they'd be taken away never to be heard again.
Sometimes he would wish that they had a name so that he could remember them by, other times he was grateful not to have known. Names are for the elite. Names are for changelings that have moved on from this place. Names are for those who have made themselves worth remembering.
Right now they are all Nameless.
In front of them, their Shadows flickered and danced across the wall.
His axe does not stop moving.
The muscles in his arms and back are screaming in protest. But the Superiors are watching and he dares not stop.
"Glory to Gunmar!" A Superior calls out from behind them.
"Long shall he reign." They answer, the reply eases out of his lips automatically.
It's then that another Superior, runs through their section and murmurs something to his fellow troll.
The Gumm-gumm sneers and yanks on their chains. He's in mid-swing when the collar at his throat tightens and sends him backward.
"The Leader of the Changelings is on his way here for inspections, he might even choose one of you." The troll announces, "You are to remain kneeling, until he decides, is that understood?"
He tries desperately not to get excited but the prospect of leaving this place is almost too good to be true.
No one responds and soon after the Head of the Janus order limped in.
"Is this all of them?" The Grizzled changeling snarls looking at them with distaste. A younger changeling, His second in command, follows close behind.
The Superior growls but doesn't comment.
"I have no use for any of these." The changeling says not even bothering to look at him.
Giving them one last look of disdain The Head of the Janus order turns to leave.
"How disappointing."
The utter dread of watching opportunity slip by is physically painful.
He can't let it.
Everything hurts. But even with his back and legs screaming in protest. He forces himself up from the kneeling position on the floor and though his spine is screaming in protest He stands up straight.
The General doesnt look back, but his second does.
Gold eyes peer down at him carefully and the Changeling nudges his commander before pointing at him.
"Quintus."
"You're sure, Sadik?"
The changeling nods. With a growl the one called Quintus points to him.
"He'll do."
With that The Head of the Janus order limps away without sparing him another glance.
The other one, Sadik approaches. He flinches when Sadik raises his hand towards him. Relaxes, when he realizes that all the changeling did was rest his hand on his head. Feeling bold, he glanced up to meet the others gaze. Sadik looked thoughtful for a moment before pulling out a key and unlocked the chain along his neck.
It falls to the ground, In the dark the cold links glitter a silver blue.
He stares at it surprised.
The sensation of its weight dropping was the strangest he had ever felt, and he can't quite stop himself from rubbing and fidgeting at his throat.
Sadik simply stands there and gives him time to adjust to the feeling of being unbound.
"What should I call you?"
"This one has not earned a name, Sir."
"Well… until you've earned one how about I call you oğul?"
He had no idea what the word meant, but he found himself nodding anyway.
Walder shakes the memory away.
He pressed forward.
So lost in the effort of not getting lost in his thoughts, that it took Stricklander significantly longer than it should have, to notice that the lumnus crystal was losing light.
He worried at the crystal, the pale blue light flared and flickered briefly before dying completely.
Walder cursed.
Feeling his heart begin to pound against his chest.
Now was not a good time to panic. He fumbled at the cavern walls and taking deep steading breaths, kept moving on.
His mind jumped from thought to thought, like a stone skipping across a pond. Trapped inside the all encompassing darkness, there was little to focus on except memories.
Soft hands and warm smiles.
He decides that The Nobleman Strickler, is a lot like Sadik. Strickland as the villagers where prone to call him, is a kind man, an honorable man, a decent man. He treats everyone one he meets with the same soft smile and calm voice. He's patient. People tend to like him.
The Nobleman Strickler, is also very different than Sadik, in a lot of ways. Prone to bouts of Melancholy for no apparent reason. His health fluctuates with the seasons. And while He dotes on his "son" in a way most find unsuitable for a man of his stature. He also manages to ignore his "son" at the same time, never truly bothering to take the time to know him. Its fine.
The less the old man knows the better.
His "Father" calls him Wally. Sometimes, he calls him Waltolomew when he wants to tease him, laughing at the name as it was some jest that he had shared with his deceased wife. Sometimes, the old man gets lost in the memories of his love and he'll sit "Wally" on his lap and hold out a small painting of the woman who would have been his mother.
He tries to understand, but how can one miss what one has never had? The only thing he feels when stares at the portrait is a strange, empty curiosity. The emptiness one gets when seeing their features, their eyes, glancing back at them from the face of a Stranger. Occasionally, He almost feels guilty for depriving the man of his real son. But then he remembers what it was like down there in the Darklands. The rough tug of chains linked around his throat. The constant hammering of axes against stone walls. And the endless praises to Lord Gunmar ringing in his ears.
No.
Lying is a small price to pay for having some semblance of freedom, and he decides to embrace it.
Walter Strickler still feels guilty; but over time, as he begins to change as easily as his name does, it becomes easier to ignore. And sometimes he almost convinces himself that he doesn't feel anything at all.
It's too dark.
He was breathing too fast.
The tunnel felt like it was closing in on him.
Roughly he placed his palms on the walls on either side of him hoping to stave off the sensation. It did not work.
He forced himself pause.
"You don't have time to panic Stricklander, Panic and it's over. Panic and you're done." Sadik lunged. Strickland barely managed to evade his mentors knife before Sadik was on him again.
He gave a backhanded swing, and Sadik ducked under it, the blade of his longsword ricocheted off the wall of their small fighting space. Wincing he twisted around trying to regain control over its momentum.
"What about rule number one?"
"Fear is not panic, learn the difference." Sadik warned.
Intersecting his two knives, Sadik stepped forward as Walder swung the longsword at his middle, catching the sword in the cross-section of the blades, he brought his arms down and pulled the weapon downward as he used the force of Walders swing to make him lose balance.
Strickland had a moment to realize that one of the knives was at his throat, before Sadik shouldered him in the ribs and he unceremoniously landed on his rear.
"Do you realize what you did wrong?"
Disappointed he shook his head.
Sadik kneeled in front of him. "Long swords are a poor weapon of choice in close quarters."
"You panicked, and acted without thought, " The older changeling smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder "oğul, to panic is normal, but to act without thought is deadly. Next time take a moment to breathe, it will clear your head and make all the difference."
Walder nodded and slowly got back up.
He opened his mouth to speak, when Finnian ran inside the training room.
"Sadik! It's Quintus."
"Has he recovered?"
Finn paled and shook his head. "There was... a… a complication, the Order is gathering to determine what to do."
Finnian fidgeted from one foot to the other, clearly debating what to say, before he leaned in and whispered something in Sadik's ear. Walder watched as his mentor suddenly looked ill. Taking in a deep breath, Sadik closed his eyes and nodded.
"We're done for today Strickland."
It's a droplet of water from the roof of the cave that brings him back to the present. Walder flinched, and pulled his hands back.
Sadik was right, the Salt Mine was a different sort of hell.
This place was playing tricks on him.
He sniffed at the damp air. Salt, nothing but Salt and dust and stale air and the brine water that was lapping at his ankles. And Yet Dark as it was, he could tell that there was something different about where he'd arrived, it was more spacious. Concentrating, Walder peered into the dark and there, slowly he could make out the outline of a bridge.
He blinked.
Walder realized what he was looking at and jumped up with a loud holler.
"Found it!"
The cavern echoed loudly.
Without hesitating, Walder made to head towards it. It was in that moment, just as his senses relaxed, that he tripped on something.
Stricklander crashed into the salted water with a loud yelp and a curse.
Sputtering Walder slowly got to his knees blinking salt water dripped into his eyes.
"Damn," he muttered. He fumbled around for what it was that he ran into.
After a moment he found something somewhat large and smooth. "Damn." He repeated frowning as he picked it up and felt it.
Whatever it was, it was not quite stone. There were little knicks and grooves in the surface that were familiar and yet he couldn't quite place what it was. Shaking a his head Walder made to toss it, when for a brief moment, whatever it was that was in his hands gave a small spasm of light. So briefly that for a moment Stricklander thought he imagined.
It flickered gold.
Licking his lips Walder ran his hands along the salt encrusted object. The more he did so, the brighter it seemed to get.
"A ring?"
It took him longer than usual to realize what he was holding.
"A hand!"
With a surprised cry He dropped it. The skeletal hand crumbled to dust as it hit the water. The glowing ring splashed and rolled harmlessly onto the ground. It glowed brighter than before, almost happily, as if it were content to be free from the hand that had worn it.
Unease filled him and Walder's first instinct was to leave the thing and continue to on as Sadik would have told him to do.
Curiosity overrode his caution, and he reached to pick up the ring again. It pulsed brightly. Holding it out Walder used its light to shine across the tunnel that he was in. The sight near the blocked entry of the bridge almost caused him to drop it again.
Dressed in a faded and torn leather coat, a small malformed looking troll corpse sat half in and half out of the dark water and looked back at him through empty sockets. Walder crawled closer, the ring in his hand glowing brighter. Gently, he proaded the jacket, the light from the ring casted an unearthly glow on the trolls skull.
Walder shivered.
Fumbling with the lapels of the jacket, and pushed it open. Within the inside lining of the coat, above a small pocket, a name barely legible had been stitched. Walder inched forward, eyes narrowed trying to read it.
Train… Trainu Nim?
The familiarity of the name gave him pause as he registered the weight within the small pocket.
"I'm Sorry," Walder whispered, suddenly feeling the need to apologize to the dead troll, for rummaging through its pockets. His breath hitched as his fingers brushed against soft fabric.
He pulled it out. Something small and round was wrapped within and Walder paused only for a moment before opening it.
A small blue and black stone fell out into his palm.
For a moment, it barely registered to him what he was currently holding. But the shape and color was all too familiar as was the unnatural dark energy that seemed to surround it.
Gunmar's Eye?
Shock was overridden by Dread filled him. The eye had never been with the Krubera, Ashur and the others had gone there for nothing.
He looked back into the face of Trainu.
"How did you get this?" He whispered.
Trainu, as expected said nothing.
Standing up Stricklander pocketed The Eye and used the ring to look at the bridge. He took only a couple of steps before something in his mind urged him to look back.
The remains of Trainu Nim sat miserably in the empty black tunnel and for a moment all he could feel was pity.
Not here
The words flittered through his mind and before he could stop himself, Walder strode back. Kneeling, Walder removed his cloak, he wrapped up the tiny trolls body and tied it an a haphazard sack.
Shaking his head and wondering what sort of madness had overcome him, Walder moved the bundle to the side and of the cave and looked at the stones blocking opening of the bridge.
It was time to get the others. Taking his axe, he stared down at the rocks and gave a humorless laugh.
"We all must serve."
He raised the axe and brought it down.