To Walk the Halls of Fear - A Short Fan Fiction

[TGRF]

This is a short fan fiction. Recently, TAF gave out a prompt on the Fan Fic Contest. While writing my entry for that prompt, I - for whatever reason - wrote it in chapters. That and the fact that it was fairly long for an entry prompted me to make it its own fan fiction, in addition to posting it as my entry.
I will update this fan fiction every day, meaning I should be done by the 14, one day before the Competition deadline. I will update both this thread and my entry in the Competition at the same time (so no, you can't read ahead ).

Copyright Paragraph (Just because I'm paranoid that way):

Spoiler Alert!

This is a fan fiction.
It is intended solely for the purpose of being released on heroscapers.com.
Any copying of the text within this fan fiction will be in violation of the copyright laws of the above heroscapers.com, and of those expressed within this fan fiction.

Text copyright © 2015 by heroscapers.com user The Grim Reaper’s Friend

You may not copy any part or portion of this fan fiction without the express permission of the original creator.

Certain characters within this fan fiction are the creation of Hasbro/Wizards of the Coast.I do not claim these characters as my own, and use them solely for the purpose of tying this fan fiction to HeroScape. They are not used with permission.

October 2015

And now, I give you:

To Walk the Halls of Fear

Spoiler Alert!

Chapter One: Gray Walls

Linia awoke slowly. It took longer than usual, for some reason. At first she was barely aware that she was awake. She had to struggle to draw herself from sleep, like someone fighting to free themselves from a mass of quicksand.
After what seemed far too long a time, she opened her eyes. Nothing met them but gray. Simply the color gray, soft and unbroken, as if she was staring at something without focusing on it. She blinked. With painful slowness, blurred details began to come into focus. A ceiling. She was looking at a gray ceiling. It seemed to be made out of stone, from what she could tell.
She frowned; that wasn’t right. Stone, here? At the same time, she became aware of something else: the muscles of her face were behaving very peculiarly. She tried to frown again, with the same result. She could feel her mouth merely twitching downwards. Her face felt sluggish and heavy. Something was wrong.
Linia tried to sit up. She half expected it, but a gasp of surprise still escaped her as her arms and legs refused to support her. She fell limply back on the bed, trying to regain control of her muscles. Where was she, and what was going on?
Linia’s mind seemed to be speeding up. Drugged. That was it, she must be drugged. Not much else could induce a state like this. Her skin crawled with the thought of foreign chemicals flowing through her. She felt contaminated, dirty. Who would drug her? And why?
A dark shape suddenly loomed over her, its outline blurred like everything else. Linia cringed away from it, and was somewhat relieved to find that she could move again.
“Don’t worry,” said the shape. “It looks like we’re in this together.”
Linia blinked several times. The shape sharpened a bit, but still remained undefinable. It looked humanoid though.
“Stay still,” the shape said. “Whatever this drug is, it wears off faster if you don’t fight it.”
Linia remained still, her eyes locked on the blurred face of the speaker. It was male; she was sure of that. She didn’t trust herself to speak; the muscles in her face still felt oddly slack.
After about a minute, Linia blinked once more, and the shape finally resolved itself into a man. Linia’s first impression of him was of plainness in the extreme. He was about average height, with dark hair and eyes. He was wearing simple black clothing, made out of some sort of rough fabric. If Linia had to guess, she would have placed him in his early thirties.
“Mark,” said the man, holding out a hand. “And what is your name?”
Linia lifted her arm, though it still felt slow and heavy, and took the man’s hand. It felt large and rough beneath her fingers, as though it had once been covered with calluses that had only partially healed.
“Linia,” she managed, her tongue feeling foreign and swollen in her mouth.
The man held her hand for a moment, as if he was trying to determine something. Then, letting go, he said, “So, are you a mage then?”
Linia frowned. That seemed an odd thing to ask.
“Your hands are soft,” said Mark, “even for an elf. You’ve probably never lifted a blade in your life. And since no one is summoned here unless they can contribute to the war, I’m betting you’re a magic-user. Am I right?”
Linia’s mind was blank. “I… I don’t know,” she said.
Mark grimaced. “I had suspected as much,” he muttered. “It seems that we’ve both had our memories wiped. I think I must be some sort of agent – it sounds about right to me. I know I was summoned to Valhalla by Vydar not that long ago, but all the details are gone. Nothing. You?”
Linia closed her eyes. She felt like there was a blank cloth over her mind, obscuring it in white fog. She could sense her memories, her knowledge, just behind it, but she couldn’t quite reach them. Something about the word ‘mage’ sounded right though. It seemed to fit.
“I… think I’m a mage,” Linia said slowly, her eyes still closed. “And I know Ullar summoned me… but I can’t remember anything else.” She opened her eyes.
“Sounds about right,” said Mark, looking around. “A mage who can’t remember her spells, and an agent who can’t remember his training. Wonderful.”
Linia swung her legs to the floor. They felt lighter now, but she still didn’t want to trust them with her weight. Instead, she examined herself.
She was wearing a mixture of leather and cloth, dyed varying shades of green and yellow, doubtless to blend in with a summer forest. There was a leather belt about her waist which she felt sure should hold a dagger, though it was empty. Any weapons she might have had were gone.
“Take it easy,” Mark said, noticing that Linia was sitting up. “You can get a bit dizzy the first time you stand.”
Linia nodded. She was getting dizzy just sitting, but she didn’t want Mark to know that. “Where are we?” she asked.
“Well,” said Mark, glancing about, “I can’t rightly say. Gray room, closed door, two beds, nothing else… looks like some sort of cell. This is a strange place though. The walls and ceiling are stone, like they’re hewed out of a single rock, but the color is all wrong. See how the shade never changes? Just the same gray over and over. The door is all wrong too. It’s just one sheet of metal. No lock. Almost like it’s supposed to be pushed open. But what kind of a cell would that be?”
Linia twisted around to find the door Mark had described. It was set in the wall directly behind her, and it did indeed look odd. It was plain, flat, unchanging… almost like someone had forgotten to finish it.
Now that she saw how close the door was, Linia noticed the size of the room she was in. It was barely more than a large closet, just big enough for four people to lay comfortably side by side. The floor was perfectly flat stone, covered with a thin layer of dusty hay.
She stood up. The grayness of the room instantly swirled together, forcing her to close her eyes against the dizziness. She sat back down quickly. “Maybe,” she breathed, “we’ll be able to find out what’s going on if we can get out.”
“Are you all right?” Mark said from somewhere above her.
Linia shook her head, not wanting to open her mouth.
“You’ll be fine in a moment,” Mark reassured her. “It passes quickly enough. As for getting out… I think you’re right. We’re not going to learn anything from this nondescript cave.”
Linia heard a grate of metal on stone. Opening her eyes, she looked around and saw that Mark had opened the door.
He shrugged. “Maybe they forgot to lock it,” he said.
But that wasn’t right. Linia could see the other side of the door now that it was open, and it was just as plain and unmarked as the other. There was no lock. That could only mean that the door wasn’t meant to keep them here. But why?
Mark walked out of the room and glanced around. “Just a hallway out here,” he announced. “It goes left and takes a right turn. Flat gray metal walls, just like the door.” He knelt on the ground and rested his hand on the smooth floor. “What is this place?” he muttered to himself.
Linia slowly slid off of her bed, which she now saw was more of a crude cot, and walked gingerly to the doorway. She stood just inside the room, watching Mark.
“I would say this craftsmanship is Vydar, but somehow it doesn’t seem to fit. He always builds on natural caverns; he conserves metal whenever he can. It’s not like him to build an entire metal hallway like this. It doesn’t fit Jandar or Einar either. Jandar hardly uses metal at all, and everyone knows Einar can’t go three feet without adding a decoration to something.”
Linia looked at the hall. It was perfectly uniform; the metal that made it up was straight and unchanging. “Ullar didn’t build it,” she said quietly, half to herself. Mark looked up. “He likes trees,” she explained, “and the way they change. This is nothing like him.”
“Utgar?” Mark suggested. “Valkrill, maybe?”
Linia shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Wherever we are,” said Mark, standing back up, “it’s probably Utgar or Valkrill that put us here. This doesn’t seem like the kind of place our allies would leave us.”
“No,” said Linia, hugging herself and realizing at the same moment that a chill hung in the air. “It doesn’t.”
Mark stood still for a moment. “No sound,” he said. “I can’t hear anything. And there aren’t any windows,” he added, turning on the spot. “We could be underground. Maybe in some sort of dungeon.”
Linia had noticed something else. “Where’s the light coming from?” she asked. She hadn’t noticed it before, but there were no lights. Still, though the whole place was dim, a flat gray light seemed to pervade the air, without source or substance. Enough so that it was dark, but they could still see easily.
Mark glanced about. “Good question,” he said. “This whole place is weird. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
Linia didn’t move. It was a lot more than weird: it was disturbing. The flatness of the walls, the grayness, the unmarked door, the silence… it was wrong, all of it. She wanted, needed to know what was going on, and yet…
“We don’t know what’s around that corner,” Linia said slowly. “Maybe we should wait here. Sooner or later, someone is bound to come.”
Mark listened for a moment. “I don’t think anyone is down here,” he said, “and somehow I doubt anyone will be for a long time. We should move. The sooner we can get out of this place, the sooner we’ll be able to figure out what’s going on.”
Linia sighed. He was right. They couldn’t stay here and wait for… something to happen. Still, she was reluctant to leave the room and confront whatever might be waiting for them in the hall beyond.
“Come on,” Mark said, holding out a hand to her. “All we have to do is get out of this place.”
He was right. Reluctant though she was, Linia took his hand and stepped into the hall.

~TGRF.

[William099]

Ooh good start!

[TGRF]

Sorry for the delay, I was sick. I will post chapter three later today.
But first, chapter two:

Spoiler Alert!

Chapter Two: The Dark Room
The first few steps Linia took were faltering and unsteady. However, Mark supported her through a tight grip on her hand, and soon the last of the drug had left her legs, allowing her to move with more certainty.
Linia braced herself as they approached the turn in the hall, but she need not have worried: the only thing that met them was another expanse of flat unchanging gray, as the hall stretched on before them. The same dim light pervaded the air here too.
Everything was deathly silent. Even their footsteps seemed somehow muffled, though they should have echoed loudly in such an enclosed metal hall. Neither of them spoke as they moved onward; the silence seemed to press in on Linia, making her want to move faster, to escape the unnatural quiet.
An uncertain amount of time passed. The walls and floor never changed, so that though they moved forward, they seemed to be making no progress. Eventually however, the hall before them, which had faded into a distant gray blur, resolved into another left turn.
As they approached the turn, Linia saw that this one, like the one before it, was perfect. It was a right angle. There were no rounded corners, no seams or bumps of craftsmanship. Just a perfect corner. She pointed this out to Mark, more out of a desire to break the silence than anything else.
“I don’t like it either,” Mark said. “Something about this place is just off, but the sooner we get out of here the sooner we’ll understand what’s going on.”
“And why we’re here,” Linia added.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Mark said as they turned the corner and continued down another nondescript hall. “It seems to me this must be some sort of prison. I can’t see any other scenario in which they would wipe our memories and then leave us here alone. This unnatural place – it’s just that: unnatural. It has to be magical to some extent, which means it’s probably a high security prison. And that means that we’re—”
“High security,” Linia finished for him.
“Exactly,” said Mark. “But we don’t know why, because we can’t remember anything. Which,” he added, “is probably exactly the way whoever put us here wants it.” He quickened his pace. “Come on. We’re going to get out of here and find out what’s going on.”
The hall had been leading to a blank metal door, which they soon reached, though it seemed to take much more time than it should have. Cautiously, Mark pushed it with the palm of his hand.
The door swung open easily. Beyond it was a large square room, gray, metal, and unchanging like the hall, with another door on the opposite end. The only difference was the mist.
This room was filled from top to bottom with dense fog. It was plenty thick, but Linia could still make out the wall and door on the other side. The thing that made her draw back slightly was the color of the mist: it was a deep, deadly-looking black.
“We’re not going through that,” she said automatically, drawing away from the door. Even as she did so, she noticed that the mist was not flowing through the open doorway as it should, but remained in the room, silently eddying about.
Mark seemed to have noticed this too. “I wouldn’t go through it either, but it’s the only way. There are no other halls: this has to be the way out.” He stuck his foot into the mist, and then drew it back out.
Nothing happened. Mark waved his hand through the mist, and then quickly pulled it back. There was no change. “I guess it’s safe,” he said, crossing into the room. “Come on; the door’s not far off. We’ll be out of this room in no time.”
Linia did not want to enter the black mist. She didn’t like the way it moved despite the absence of wind. She didn’t like the way it coiled and drifted, occasionally obscuring the far door. She was afraid of going in that room.
Mark said the only way we’re going to find out what is going on is by getting out of here, she told herself. And he’s right. I have to go on. Reluctantly, she stepped into the room after Mark.
It was a few seconds before Linia realized that she was tense, ready to leap backwards. She forced her muscles to relax, and glanced at Mark, who nodded at the door and, taking her hand, began to lead her across the room.
As had been the case with the hall before, getting to the door seemed to take longer than it should have. The door grew closer, but much too slowly. At first Linia thought she was just being paranoid, but after a while, she was forced to admit that they should have reached the door by now. It was at this point that she noticed something else as well, and stopped.
“What is it?” Mark asked.
Linia turned on the spot. “Does it seem… darker in here to you?” she asked.
Mark looked around. “Now that you mention it,” he said slowly, “it does. I don’t think this mist is getting any thicker, but it’s definitely getting darker. I can hardly see the door anymore.”
Linia squinted through the mist at the door. Mark was right. She could still see it, but it was definitely not as visible as it had been when they entered the room. “Let’s hurry,” she said. “I don’t want to lose that door.”
“Good idea,” said Mark. They resumed walking at a much faster pace than before. However, the faster they walked, the slower they seemed to move. It wasn’t long before Linia stopped again. “I can’t see it,” she said. “The door’s gone.”
“Same here,” said Mark. “It’s getting darker by the minute.”
“Let’s keep going,” Linia said, trying to keep the nervousness from her voice. “We were going in the right direction, and this room isn’t that large.”
As it turned out, however, either the room was a lot larger than they had thought, or something very strange was going on. Though Linia had thought the door had only been about fifty feet away, they walked for more than five minutes without so much as a glimpse of a wall.
The darkness thickened as they walked, until Linia could no longer see Mark. All she could make out was a blurred shadow at her side. She reached out, found Mark’s hand, and held it tightly, to assure herself that he was still there.
After another minute of walking, Mark stopped. “This isn’t right,” he half-whispered. “All this darkness could be hiding something. We could have gotten turned around somewhere, and be heading right into some sort of ambush.”
“We can’t have gotten turned around,” Linia whispered back, mostly to convince herself of it. “We’ve been going straight the whole time.”
“Still,” Mark breathed, “I don’t like this. We don’t know where we’re going. I should scout ahead and make sure we’re on the right path. If we are, I’ll come back and get you.”
“What? No!” Linia whispered. She didn’t want Mark to leave. His presence was something real in this world of silent mist and darkness. Something that she could count on.
“I’ll only be gone a minute,” Mark said. “I’ll go out, then come right back. Just stay where you are.” His hand slipped from hers and he was gone in an instant.
Whatever tricks time might have been playing on her, Linia was very sure that Mark was gone longer than a minute. She waited for what seemed to her at least half an hour, turning about on the spot, watching the mist, waiting, listening. There was complete silence. No distant footsteps, no voice from Mark. The silent mist was eerie, as it continued to tumble and curl about Linia ceaselessly, never making a sound. She tried to ignore the mounting fear inside of her. She told herself there was no reason to be afraid of silence and darkness. But she knew what she really feared was what that silence and darkness could be hiding, what could be creeping up on her at that very moment, unseen and unheard.
She willed herself not to turn around and look behind her. She was letting her fear get the better of her. She couldn’t do this. She had to get out of here, not let her mind play tricks on her. Unfortunately, this was easier said than done.
She turned around despite herself. There was nothing there. But now something else could be waiting, just out of her range of vision, on her other side. She turned back around, determined not to be caught off guard. It wasn’t that she particularly thought anything was there. It was simply the knowledge that something could be there, and she would never know about it.
She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself tighter and tighter, drawing herself together. She glanced over her shoulder. Silence. She glanced up – many an unforeseen attack came from above – but there was nothing there either. Relax, she told herself. She watched the darkness, searching, trying to see through it, for a hint of Mark, the door, a wall, anything to change this silence and darkness about her. She could see nothing.
She could feel her fear mounting within her, despite her constant refrains to ignore it. It rose slowly, inexorably consuming her from the feet up. First her legs tensed, ready to spring away in any direction. Then her stomach slowly constricted as she twisted this way and that, trying to see in all directions at once. It spread to her shoulders and arms, so that they ached with the pressure with which she hugged herself ever tighter. It filled her chest and constricted her breathing, until her breath came in short, fearful gasps. It slowly crept up her neck, tensing the muscles, causing her to glance every which way. It spread slowly, like a great slimy something, up her scalp, prickling her hair. It spread to her mouth, causing it to run dry. And then it lodged in her mind, and she knew that no amount of logic could save her.
The darkness seemed to suddenly converge on where she stood, pressing in from all sides. The stillness and deathly quiet overpowered her until she could no longer think.
“Mark!” she whispered. Her voice came out hoarse and terrified. The whisper seemed unnaturally loud in the total silence. Too loud.
And then Mark was beside her, his hand on her shoulder. Relief flooded Linia, chasing her fear away, as every muscle in her body seemed to turn to water instantly. She sagged against him, weak and unable to speak.
It was a moment before organized thought returned to Linia. She soon realized that she was shaking slightly, and immediately forced herself to stop. She had let her fear get the better of her, and she wouldn’t do so again. Almost at the same instant, she became aware that Mark was talking to her, asking if she was all right.
“I’m fine,” she said, though her mouth was still dry. “I just—” she teetered for a moment on the edge of saying ‘panicked,’ but Mark interrupted her.
“It’s all right, there’s nothing in here but fog,” he said. “Fog and a door.”
“You found it?” Linia asked, hardly daring to hope.
“I found it,” Mark repeated. “I took so long because I had a hard time finding you again. But don’t worry. I know the way now; no amount of darkness can stop us.”
He grasped Linia’s hand in his, and began to lead her through the mist.
With Mark by her side, Linia wasn’t half as frightened as she had been. It was still nearly pitch black, and she still looked over her shoulder occasionally, possessed by the feeling that anything could be following them, but somehow the fears that had claimed her held no sway over her as long as Mark was by her side. As long as she could feel his hand, she knew that she was not alone.
Presently, a wall loomed up out of nowhere, and Mark, seeming to conjure a door out of thin air, pushed it open. Beyond stretched the unnatural gray hall, with its straight walls, its strange grayness, and its dim half-light.
But Linia ran to it as if she were greeting an old friend.

~TGRF.

[TGRF]

Chapter Three: Sounds and Sensations

Spoiler Alert!

Linia could see that the hall curved to her right not far off, but she had no desire to see what was beyond that corner. She leaned against a wall and slid to the floor, perfectly content to stay there for a long time.
Mark stepped into the hall and let the door to the Dark Room swing shut behind him. It did so, not with swinging back and forth, but with a single motion that stopped abruptly the instant it closed.
“There,” he said, glancing around the corner. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He went back to Linia and sat down beside her.
It was a moment before Linia replied. The gray hall seemed oddly bright after the darkness of the room, and she sat there, simply drinking in the presence of light, no matter how dim.
“I’m afraid of the dark,” she said after a few moments. “I think I must be. Back in that room, I kept thinking of all the things that could be hiding in the darkness, just behind me.”
“I know,” Mark said. “I did too. Most people would be at least a little bit scared. But I kept telling myself that the only way to get through that was to get to the door. And in the end it worked out: here we are.”
Linia didn’t answer.
“I think we must be in some prison of Valkrill’s,” Mark said after a minute. “Only he would design something like that. The Valkyrie preys on fear; he would think it was the perfect way to keep his prisoners in.”
Linia nodded. It did seem Valkrill’s style. They might know where they were, but that did little to make her feel better. “I wonder why he put us here?” she asked.
“The answer is probably waiting for us just outside this place,” said Mark, standing up and offering her his hand. “Come on. We should keep moving.”
Linia sighed. She had the strangest feeling that the prison wasn’t over yet, that there was a lot more hall between them and the exit. At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to sit here with Mark, where she knew she was safe.
But Mark was right, and she knew it. They had to find out what was going on, and to do that, they had to keep going. She took Mark’s hand, and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
As Linia had feared, the turn in the hall revealed another long stretch of unchanging grayness. She set off down it with Mark, thinking that it was at least better than another room.
Now that she knew she was in a prison of Valkrill, things were starting to make sense. The constant gray light still defied explanation, and the abundance of metal didn’t fit at all, but at least she knew why it was so quiet. As Mark had said, they were probably underground, in some abandoned part of the Underdark.
Knowing who her enemy was gave her strength. She felt certain that she didn’t like fighting the unseen; that she liked to see her foe. Now that she knew who it was, she felt that she could fight back.
In time the end of the hall resolved itself into another right turn. Upon reaching the turn, they found that it led to another flat metal door.
Linia’s heart sank. She didn’t want to go through another room like the last one. She wasn’t sure if she could.
Mark seemed to sense her thoughts. “I’ll go first,” he said.
Cautiously, he edged the door open. It didn’t resist his touch, but swung wide easily, revealing a room that was as high as the hall, and almost twice as wide. It was long as well. It stretched for so far that at first Linia thought it was another hall. Once again, there was a plain metal door set in the far wall. The room was completely empty and silent.
Linia forced herself to enter the room with Mark, and willed herself not to rush back out as the door closed behind them. She braced herself for something, anything, but nothing happened. The room remained unchanged, the silence unbroken.
In fact, the silence seemed thick, palpable, almost as if the room was holding its breath. Linia looked around. They were still alone in the room. Nothing was with them, nothing had happened. She took Mark’s hand, and together they set out towards the door.
As with the Dark Room, it seemed to take a long time to cross the room. They walked in silence for a minute, and the door got only a little bit closer.
Linia suddenly stopped. She was sure she had heard something. She turned back and looked behind them.
“What?” Mark asked, stopping as well.
“I thought I heard something,” Linia said. “Like a… click. It was very faint. It was there, just behind us.”
Mark went towards the spot Linia had indicated and bent down, examining the floor. “Nothing here,” he announced after a moment. “Just the same gray metal.”
“Did you hear anything?” Linia asked hopefully. If he hadn’t, she would know the sound had been in her head.
“Yes,” said Mark reluctantly. “I heard it exactly when you did. I thought it might be in my mind though. Come on,” he added. “Let’s not wait around for something else to happen.”
Linia nodded, and they resumed their slow walk to the door.
Linia stopped not long after, sure she had heard another click behind them. She raised her eyebrows at Mark, who nodded; he had heard it too. She glanced behind them, but there was nothing there. Then, as she was looking, another click sounded barely an inch from her feet.
She leapt back from the spot, searching for whatever had made the noise. There was nothing there. The clicks sounded exactly as if something was walking on the metal floor, something with hard, pointed feet. Like a giant crab. Or perhaps a spider.
There was another click, close to where the last one had been. And then, as if something was scuttling across the floor very quickly, the clicks suddenly made for Linia.
Before she could even move, Mark leapt in front of her. The clicks seemed to pass right through him as though he wasn’t even there. Linia backed away as the clicks approached, and they followed her. And then, quite suddenly, they stopped. Linia cautiously edged away from where they had last been.
“It’s beneath us,” Mark said, watching the floor. “Whatever this thing is, it’s beneath us. That’s why it moved through me.”
Linia looked down. “Do you think it’s—”
The rest of her sentence was lost, for she had just heard something else: a whispering, slow and steady, coming from the walls. She glanced around. They were completely alone. Or were they? Were there perhaps invisible assailants all about them, whispering, moving in, coming closer even now?
“Do you hear that?” Linia whispered to Mark. “That… sound?”
“Yes,” Mark replied, glancing about the room. “I hear it.” He turned back to Linia. “But there’s nothing here, Linia. This room is empty. All these things, these sounds; they’re just illusions. I can feel it. They aren’t real.” Behind him, the whispering increased in volume.
He went to where she stood and took her hand. “Come on. We just have to get out. The door isn’t that far off.”
Linia glanced at the door. It looked like it was only a few paces away, but if the rooms before had been any indication, it would take at least five minutes to get there. The whispering was sounding eager now, excited.
“Come on,” Mark said. “We just have to reach the door.”
Linia looked at him. All about her, the whispering still echoed, taunting her to look, to search for its source. But Mark’s voice, though quiet, drowned all that out. She could still hear it, she was still frightened by it, but it was in the background. All that mattered were Mark’s words. We just have to reach the door.
“You’re right,” Linia said. “If we reach the door, we can get out.”
Mark smiled. And then everything changed.
The room was plunged into blackness so abruptly that Linia thought for a moment that she had blacked out. Mark’s hand was wrenched from hers as if he had been pulled away by some massive beast. At the same time, the whispering suddenly increased in volume, and Linia heard the clicking begin again, this time scuttling away from her.
“Mark!” she cried into the blackness. There was no reply. Mark was gone.
Linia’s fears came crashing down on her. Mark was gone, taken. She was alone in this darkness, with no way to find him. And without him, she had no chance.
You just have to reach the door.
Linia’s head snapped up. She wouldn’t let fear get the best of her. Not this time. She would find the door, and she would get out.
Linia began staggering in the direction the door had been. She stretched out her arms, feeling in front of her, waiting for her fingers to touch cold metal, to touch anything other than the empty blackness they now felt.
The whispering was all about her, and to Linia, it seemed to be moving. She thought she could hear movement about her, close by, like the sighing of a light breeze. Something was barely three feet in front of her. And five feet behind her. And there, on her left side. She was sure of it. The whispering came from them, and they circled her, gliding through the air, invisible to her eyes. Were they watching her, waiting to strike? Or were they perhaps waiting for something else, something they knew drew closer every second?
Linia’s outstretched fingers finally struck cold metal. The wall.
Wait. That couldn’t be right. She had been heading for the door. Linia pushed. No, she had definitely found the wall.
In a sudden panic, Linia whirled around, trying to see through the blackness. The door had to be here, just inches from her. She went a little to the left, running her fingers up and down the wall, doing her best to ignore the whisper-creatures that circled her. Mark had said they weren’t real.
Linia went back right, but still, no door met her. She had gotten turned around. She could be anywhere. She was lost. It was this last realization that frightened Linia the most. She had to get to the door, but how could she when she didn’t know where it was?
Linia stopped and tried to think. This was difficult when she was surrounded by invisible whispering phantoms. It was made harder still when one of them came close enough to just brush her shoulder.
Linia instantly felt as though her arm had been plunged in ice. She shrank away from the creature, but she was surrounded. They were all about her, whispering, whispering, always whispering. She couldn’t escape.
It was at that point that the whisper-creatures seemed to retreat. Their voices grew fainter, until Linia was sure they were a good distance away. She could hear them moving about, but they had inexplicably left her.
Linia shrank against the wall. Perhaps something else was coming for her. Linia mentally shook herself. Mark had said these were all illusions. She herself had seen that the room was empty. None of this was real. There was nothing coming for her.
No sooner had she reached this conclusion, that she heard a very quiet sound from the far end of the room. It was like a sigh, but much deeper, much fuller than it should have been. The whispering seemed to die away until Linia could barely hear it. She strained her ears, both wanting and dreading to hear the sound again.
It came once more, and with a jolt, Linia realized it was the sound of breathing. Very slow, very deep breathing, as if from some massive creature. She heard it again. It was closer this time, coming her way.
Linia shrank against the wall, and as she pressed herself into it, she realized it was vibrating. The whisper-creatures were in the wall once more, and Linia could hear their voices through it. The sound coursed up and down her body, permeating her flesh and settling in her bones.
The slow breathing came closer, slightly faster now, as though it could sense its prey. Linia tried to shut it all out. It wasn’t real, none of it. She told herself that her mind was playing tricks on her. The wall wasn’t vibrating. There was nothing coming for her. She was alone in the room.
Either her mind wouldn’t listen, or she was wrong; whichever it was, the situation didn’t change. Linia’s fingers seemed glued to the wall, and her legs refused to move. In fact, it was more than fright keeping her stationary. Linia could feel something warm and slimy, like a wet vine, creeping around her legs, binding them in place. She struggled, but found that her feet were bound fast. The vines slowly began to creep up her legs, immobilizing them too.
At the same moment, Linia realized that she really couldn’t move her hands from the walls. They were stuck there as though they were part of the wall. In fact, she was almost certain – yes, she could feel it now – that there were hands, deadly, ice-cold hands, pinning her arms back, holding her against the wall. And still the breathing came closer, definitely faster now, and now Linia could hear quiet footfalls, dragging slowly across the floor, coming towards her.
It’s not real, she told herself. The grip on her arms and legs tightened. Mark said it’s not real. These are illusions. Linia was sure something more than cold air was over her mouth. She could feel it pressing against her head, forcing it sideways, exposing her neck to whatever was approaching her. They are in my mind, she thought, over and over. They aren’t real.
The breathing stopped right in front of her. Linia could feel her heart, struggling furiously against her ribs. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears, the adrenaline rushing through her veins. She waited, knowing the creature was just inches in front of her. She was helpless, caught and held motionless, waiting for she knew not what.
It’s not real, she repeated over and over in her mind. It’s not real. It’s not real. Mark said these are illusions. They’re not real. And like a ghost, she saw Mark in her mind, talking to her. She strained to hear what he was saying.
“They aren’t real, Linia. They can’t hold you; there’s nothing there. You just have to get to the door.”
The door. She had to get to the door. She was held by her imagination, not some strange creature.
Something touched Linia’s neck, something warm and slimy. Linia tried to scream, but the hand clamped over her mouth stifled the sound. No. There was no hand over her mouth. But Linia could feel the fingers pressing against her face, the strength of the arm. But it wasn’t real. It wasn’t really there.
Linia tried to grab the hand from her mouth. Her fingers passed through cold air. She had been right. Mark had been right. There was nothing there. A second later she realized that she had moved her arm, despite the creature pinning it against the wall. Ignoring the grasp, she moved her other arm. Nothing held it back, either.
Just get to the door.
Ignoring what her mind told her, Linia bolted and ran, just touching the wall with her fingers to make sure she stayed at the edge of the room. She would eventually find the door.
The breathing pursued her, followed by the whisper-creatures. But Linia was ready now. She knew they weren’t real. She knew it. They are illusions. Illusions. Fake. They aren’t real.
And then, quite suddenly and without warning, Linia’s fingers found the door. She didn’t hesitate or pause to consider, but ran at it. It burst open, and Linia fell forwards, landing painfully on the hard, cold, blessedly gray floor of the hall.

~TGRF.

[hose]

Very enjoyable so far. And well written.

[TGRF]

Originally Posted by hose

Very enjoyable so far. And well written.

Why thank you. And now to finish it up, chapter four and five:

Chapter Four: Reality

Spoiler Alert!

Linia remained where she had fallen, shaking. She was shaking partially from fear, but mostly from joy. She had escaped.
“Linia!”
That was a voice she knew. Linia sat upright and saw Mark running towards her through the gray light.
“I thought you must have made it out before me; I was about to start looking for you,” he said.
“You got out? You escaped?”
“It was just a little dark,” said Mark. “How hard could it be?”
Linia looked at him uncertainly. “You didn’t hear… them?”
“Who?” asked Mark. “What did you hear?”
Linia closed her eyes. Further proof that they hadn’t been real. “Nothing,” she said. “I heard nothing.”
“You heard something,” Mark said. Linia opened her eyes. “You said ‘them.’ Who were you talking about?”
Linia stood. “Illusions,” she said. “I heard illusions. I felt illusions. But they weren’t real, just like you said; none of them were.”
“How did you escape?” Mark asked. “You must have thought they were real at some point to have felt them.”
Linia had felt them. In fact, she could still feel the bruises across her face where she had thought a hand had been clamped over her mouth. She could still feel the pressure on her arms where they had been held. The slimy moistness on her feet and legs was real enough. Something had been there. But Linia shoved these thoughts aside. She was out now, and that was all that mattered.
“How did you get out?” Mark repeated.
Linia looked up at him. “I remembered what you had said. You had told me they were illusions; that they weren’t real. I kept repeating that to myself, and they couldn’t hold me. I kept running until I found the door.”
For a moment, Linia thought the illusions had come with her from the room. She thought she saw a triumphant smile pass over Mark’s face. But the next instant, it was gone. She must have imagined it.
“Well,” said Mark. “Now that you’re out, I may have found something we’ve been looking for.”
Linia caught her breath. “The exit?” she breathed.
Mark nodded. “It’s just around the corner.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Linia hurtled down the short hall, turned the corner, and found herself confronted with another door. This door was flat and metal like the rest, but it was different. Its surface was embossed in the middle with countless lines crisscrossing each other, forming a complex pattern. Linia thought she could see a word in the pattern, but she couldn’t be sure what it was.
Mark came up beside her. “Through there,” he said. His voice sounded a little strange to Linia.
“Are you all right?” she asked, turning to him. “You sound… I don’t know… resigned somehow.”
“I’m fine,” Mark said. “It just seems a little anticlimactic, that’s all. I mean, I didn’t expect the way out to just be a door. I’m fine, really,” he said when Linia continued to look concerned. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Linia turned back to the door and pushed. It swung open easily, like the rest. However, all that Linia saw was another room.
This one was barely more than a large closet, and there was no door in the opposite wall. There was only one way in or out, and it was through the door that Linia now held open. She turned back to Mark.
“I thought you said this was the way out.”
Mark smiled. To Linia, the smile seemed tired, defeated. “It is,” he said. “I know it is. Once you walk in that room, you’ll be free of this place. This prison will seem to shatter about you, like a dream, and you’ll be able to walk away like it never happened.”
Something was wrong with Mark. Maybe he had simply been awake too long. Or perhaps this place was starting to affect him, something Linia had begun to believe was impossible.
“You need to get out,” she said. “Come on, we’ll leave together.”
Mark didn’t move. “I can’t come with you, Linia,” he said. “I’m sorry. I have to stay here.”
Linia just looked at him. “Of course you can’t stay here,” she said after a moment. “Why would you say that?”
Mark sighed. “I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful with you, Linia,” he said. He looked up and found her eyes. “You see… I’m not Mark.”

Chapter Five: Machinations

Spoiler Alert!

Mark suddenly seemed to swell. His head shot towards the ceiling, and his arms and legs elongated to match his new stature. He leveled out at seven feet, towering above Linia. And then the wings came.
Sprouting from his back, two great wings, slightly tattered and bony looking, seemed to suddenly fill the hall, their ebony feathers, some withered, some bent, stretched wide. Mark’s back suddenly bowed until he was hunched, and lines appeared on his face. His hair turned dark gray, lengthened, and hung down his shoulders in an untidy mass. A gnarled staff appeared in his hands, which he planted on the ground to support himself. He looked up, causing Linia to step back into the room. His skin had turned pitch black. But worst of all were his eyes. They had turned yellow, not bright yellow like a cat, but a sickly shade, like something diseased.
“I’m not Mark,” the figure said. “I’m Valkrill.”
Linia staggered backwards. Her mind, so acceptant of illusions, now could not register what she had just seen. Mark was still there. He had to still be there. This was another illusion. “You… You can’t be—”
“I am,” said Valkrill, advancing into the room. He was stooped so low that he was able to pass through the doorway with ease. “You are in the Dimholt, Linia; a prison designed by the gods of old to hold their worst adversaries. It is a prison of fear. It tests you, discovers your greatest fears, and then sends them against you. Overcome those fears, and you have overcome the Dimholt, just like you did not five minutes ago.”
Linia hit the far wall. She still stared at Valkrill, her mouth slightly open. Numb disbelief coursed through her.
“I am fear,” Valkrill said. “I embraced it long ago and made it my strength. I cannot overcome what I am; therefore, I cannot get out. Now go!” The last two words he shouted, his voice echoing like thunder.
The sound seemed to shock Linia’s mind into action. That voice was Mark’s. Twisted, mutilated, burdened with age, but it was still Mark. She would have recognized it anywhere. Perhaps Valkrill was telling the truth. Perhaps he was Mark. But Linia still couldn’t accept that Mark as she had known him was gone. He was still there, somewhere.
Linia’s mind and Linia’s thoughts were disconnected. Her thoughts were ordered and logical. Her mind was still frozen with shock. Therefore, all she was able to get out was: “But you… Mark… I thought…”
Valkrill smiled. His face was lopsided, so that it came out as more of a grimace, reminiscent of extreme pain. His voice softened. “Mark is gone, Linia. He never existed.” He sighed, and the sigh was so familiar, so human, that Linia’s shock subsided somewhat.
Valkrill continued. “I know you, Linia. In fact, everyone knows you, but you’ll find that out soon enough. What they don’t know, and what I discovered, is that you are afraid. Everything frightens you. The dark, closed in spaces, being alone, sudden sounds, anything. You’re afraid of it all.
“Fortunately for you, you are also the most powerful archmage Feylund has ever – or will ever – produce. You learned to cope with your fear, not by confronting it, but by burying it in your power. If you’re afraid of something, you simply incinerate it until only dust remains. It was a strategy that worked quite well. Until now.
“Your mind was wiped before you were sent to the Dimholt. With your memories went your knowledge of who and what you were, and of how to control your magic. Your power was gone, leaving only what you truly were beneath: a very frightened elf. I knew you would never make it through the Dimholt.
“That’s why I transformed myself. I became Mark, the agent immune to fear. With him there, you would have someone to help you through the rooms. You would have someone to strengthen you, to reassure you, to banish your fright. I hadn’t anticipated being separated from you in the final room, but by that time, you were able to overcome your fear yourself, thus defeating the Dimholt.”
Linia’s mind was still trying to catch up. All she could manage was a faint, “Why?”
“Why?” Valkrill echoed. “Why were you put here? Ironically enough, it was fear that sent you here. Ullar had summoned you to end the war, a feat you are very capable of. He became so afraid of your power though, that he decided you were too dangerous to be on Valhalla. He met with the leaders of the alliance, and they unanimously agreed that you should be sent here, to the Dimholt. For safe measure, they wiped your memory. Then Ullar drugged your drink one night, and used his wellspring to send you to where you woke, within the Dimholt. The Alliance thinks you gone forever. Now go!”
“But…. Mark.” Linia’s mind was finally leveling out with her thoughts. “You had to create him from someone. You couldn’t have just imagined him. He was real.”
“I know you’re just trying to convince yourself of that,” Valkrill said softly. There it was again: Mark’s voice. “It’s not true though. I’ve had plenty of time to imagine many things in here. I can make a convincing disguise when I want. I could have left you alone; I could have never appeared. But I knew that you would need someone like Mark to get you through here, to get you out, to avenge yourself on the Alliance. Oh yes,” Valkrill said, noticing Linia’s look of dawning comprehension. “That’s what I want: Revenge. Jandar put me here years ago, and now Ullar has sent to me the perfect way to get back at him. Naturally I want you to get out. Not being able to get out myself, what you do once you’re free is entirely your decision. I would only urge you to remember what Ullar did to you.”
“How do I know what you say is true?” Linia asked warily.
Valkrill cocked a burnt eyebrow. “You don’t. But once you leave this place, your memory will return. And if you don’t believe that, anyone you meet will be able to confirm who you are and what happened to you.”
Valkrill bent down so that his head was level with Linia’s. “You’ve overcome the Dimholt,” he breathed. “You’ve done what I never can. You have faced your deepest fears, and defeated them. You must leave, Linia.”
He was right. Linia knew he was. She had been afraid when she first awoke, afraid of everything. But with Mark’s help, she had conquered her fear. With Valkrill’s help, she corrected herself. She sighed. I suppose Mark really is gone. But I’ll remember him. With him, I faced my fears, and I overcame them.
The instant she thought this, the room, the grayness, Valkrill himself, shattered and faded, as if they had never been. Linia was left standing in a dark cavern. The Dimholt was gone. She was free.

Epilogue: Freedom

Spoiler Alert!

Linia’s memories returned, just as Valkrill had said they would. She eventually found her way out of the abandoned part of the Underdark the Dimholt was hidden in, with a little help from the spells she now remembered how to cast, and returned to Valhalla.
It seemed that the Alliance had done exactly what Valkrill had said they had. Whether Linia sought revenge on them though… well, that’s another story.
Throughout it all, Linia remembered one thing. She remembered Mark. She knew that, despite what Valkrill had said, Mark was real. He wasn’t human. And his name wasn’t Mark. But what she had seen, what had walked the halls of her fear with her, had been Valkrill before the war. She knew it. And she also knew that he was still in that mutilated monster down there. Somewhere.
And she would find him. She would set him free.

~TGRF.

[hose]

I figured Mark was not what he seemed, but wasn't sure where you were going. Good job.

[William099]

Just finished reading this for the first time. A good job as always TGRF. Thanks for providing entertainment for me on my night shifts all these years! Often nice to have something besides video games to do!

Its interesting to me how in your latest works you draw out the darker side of the Alliance leaders. This and The River that was Red for example.

[TGRF]

Originally Posted by William099

Just finished reading this for the first time. A good job as always TGRF. Thanks for providing entertainment for me on my night shifts all these years! Often nice to have something besides video games to do!

Its interesting to me how in your latest works you draw out the darker side of the Alliance leaders. This and The River that was Red for example.

Ah, night shifts! So that's how you read my fictions so quickly.

Crixus33 also mentioned that about turning the good guys evil. It wasn't an intention of mine, but it does seem to be a pattern. Always good to fall away from what is expected.

~TGRF.