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Dark Soles

Chapter 6

Sponsored by Rickochet

by Draconicon

Romund dropped the husk of a Hollow soldier to his feet, shaking his head. The skunk's loincloth flicked from the brief wind that the body kicked him, but other than that, the world was still and almost silent, only interrupted by the distant crackle of fire and the occasional rumble of the drake on the bridge. He looked over his shoulder, chin passing over fur that had only recently come back, and he paused. He opened his mouth, not to say anything, but merely to experience the sensation of fur on fur once more. Even he, as focused as he was, still found it hard to believe the difference between Undead and...this, whatever it was.

The others had been little different, he knew. Several times, he'd met up with them. Once, with Nero, near the priest, and next with Rebecca in the Burg. She had been at a loss of where to go, and had been quick to take the direction he'd pointed her in.

And Alfar.

The black cat had been wheezing in the undercroft, having just finished off the rats in the little basement just before the Parish. Barely able to keep up with his own blade, that one, but no less determined to make it forward. Even he had been distracted, holding his chest with as much joy and relief as weariness.

All of them were still getting used to the feeling of being alive again. Just like them, Romund had no intention of losing the life that coursed through his veins again.

The moment of fascinating distraction passed, and he pulled his thoughts back to the moment. There was no threat from the drake; it was entirely intent on the bridge, and there was little likelihood of it taking to the air again without being irritated into it. Further up the stairs behind him, there was a knight - one that he could hear clanking around from time to time - but he doubted that it would come down without being antagonized into it. Just like the Black Knight before the demon, this one seemed intent on holding its position so long as no-one bothered it.

The other Hollows, however...

Romund shook his head as he looked up the curving path. There were many little dangers waiting there, from other Hollows that were armed with bows and spears to an armored boar that stood between him and the great portcullis in the distance. His eyes flicked past the bridge that looked down on the passage up to the gate to a small set of stairs that went down, down, down, well out of sight. Probably to some sort of storage area, and one that circled back up and around the walls of the Parish, if there was any luck.

Fighting would be unavoidable. The question was, how to fight?

At least he had options.

The skunk silently reached for the pack that he had thrown over his back as soon as he'd found it. Within were little baubles and pieces of equipment that he had scavenged from the battlefields of the Burg, and what he had looted from those bodies that lacked the fire to rise again. Small daggers, clubs, even a mace, sword, and spear that he had found over his time in the Burg were there. He had options of weapons, and more, he had options of tools. Throwing knives had been easy enough to find, and he'd tucked those away, too.

Age, experience, and an open mind had made up for the lack of tools in the Asylum. Whereas everyone else had found a weapon, or a shield, or even armor, he had left the prison with nothing more than a stick and his loincloth. But now? Now, he would wager that he had more tools than most of them, if only because he'd kept his eyes open for them.

He pulled out a line of throwing daggers, fanning them out. The blades were a trifle rusty from laying around for so long, but the pointed tips were all that mattered, and they were as sharp as he could have asked. He slid one from the line of string, spinning it between his fingers as he glanced at the nearest one.

A toss to the neck would either drop him or draw him, possibly enough to cut his cords to keep him from calling for help if he's not too far gone. The others are too far away to hit, but drawing them slowly...

He still had the Humanity that he'd drained from the minotaur, but he refused to touch that yet. More, he refused to need it. That was there for the worst case scenario, and they were far from that.

Romund was alive. For the first time in years uncounted, well past the lifespan of his generation and three others, he was alive. He would not spend his life cheaply.

As he considered his options, he felt someone else coming. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the white light of a hyena rising from the ladder. Eihmund, if he remembered correctly.

The skunk was no social butterfly; he had little time or patience for other people. Yet, they were the only ones that had the same goal as he did. Reaching the gods was the only chance they had of finding the Flame, and when they found the Flame, things could change.

For now, he needed allies, and more, he needed to know what they were doing.

As he walked at the side of the rising hyena shade, he felt the same connection that he'd felt at the Asylum and with Nero at the Shrine. He reached through the space between worlds, making the invitation for the hyena to step through; he could do no more than that, not now that they knew what was happening.

Thankfully, Eihmund took the invitation, stepping through from his own world to the skunk's. Romund stepped to the right, the hyena to the left, and they turned to look at one another.

Romund had judged the warrior to be a potentially useful ally, and that assumption had not changed. He remembered Eihmund had come from Astora, and had noted his hostility to Nero and anyone else that showed any sign of loyalty to the Way of White. More than that, the hyena's broad shoulders and thick arms spoke to a long-term occupation with the arts of war and a preoccupation with his own strength, both of which would be useful. However, combined with his meager garments and the quick-fast way of speaking he had, it was clear that he had never entirely succeeded with his former occupation.

All of these things passed through his mind in a flash as he nodded in greeting.

"Surviving, clearly," Romund said. "Any difficulties?"

Eihmund gestured at his face and the patchy patterns to his fur. Whatever Humanity that he had managed to take from the Asylum Demon and the subsequent minotaur had clearly been ripped away again.

"What do you think?"

"I think that you are pushing forward. Recklessly."

"You're the one that said it. The Flame's waiting...and so are the gods."

"They'll give no answers to a Hollow. You'll be lucky to get them as a marked Undead."

Unkind words, perhaps, but no less true. The hyena growled, one hand resting on his sword at his hips before he seemed to force it back. Eihmund shook his head.

"One way or another, they need to answer for leaving the world like this. If they're gods, then they have a goddamn responsibility here. If they're the ones that claim the right to run the whole thing, then where the hell are they? What the hell are they doing?"

"A good question," Romund muttered, looking toward the heights that loomed past the Parish. "A very good question, indeed."

For there, standing behind the great walls that stood taller than the Parish stacked atop itself a dozen times, was where the gods of the world hid. There, past those great stone defenses, lay the great city that even those in the Asylum had heard of. The city of gods, Anor Londo, had once been connected to those that lived in the world below. Once, that was, but no longer.

As Eihmund turned to leave, he grabbed the other man by the wrist. The hyena tried to pull away, but Humanity favored the skunk...and so did the many souls that he had harvested on his way through the Burg and before the dragon. He gripped tighter, and the hyena stopped, blinking as he looked back.

"There are other things that we should discuss, while we have time."

"We're wasting time."

"More is wasted if you run ahead without thinking. How do you plan to defeat the boar? Get past the portcullis? Keep yourself alive to reach the Church and what lies beyond?"

"..."

"Do you even know what to do when you get there?"

"...No," Eihmund admitted.

"Then listen." He slowly let go, shaking his head. "The ones at the Shrine had a lot to say. If we want to reach the Flame, then we have two bells to ring. One above, one below; the one above must be in the Parish church, at the top. All of us will have to reach it eventually, but how we get there doesn't matter. We just have to."

"Okay. Simple enough."

"Is it?"

"For me, sure. I don't plan on staying dead."

Nor did anyone, but he let the matter lie. The skunk continued.

"How will you get there?"

Eihmund shrugged, pulling his sword half out of his sheath before putting it back. Romund did not challenge it; at the very least, the hyena had a better grip on that than the black cat knight had on his own blade. There was a quiet competence there despite a lack of regard for his belongings.

"Then I suppose I should -"

His ears twitched at the sound of a scream, one that echoed between worlds. Eihmund's ears did the same, flicking toward the stairs that led up. Even as they turned, a series of white letters burst into being on the ground, saying one simple word:

HELP!

To give him credit, Eihmund moved quickly, and Romund followed after as a precaution more than anything else. As soon as the hyena touched the mark, he faded out, and the skunk felt the same happening to him. They were pulled through as he had done to the others, and then -

Whoosh. Fire washed past them along the stone stairway as Kaolix tumbled back down, landing between them. The raccoon was on his feet and backpedaling almost instantly, panting for breath as he stared up the steps.

"Just the one?" Romund asked.

"Uh-huh," the raccoon muttered, gasping for breath.

"I got it," the hyena said.

As the warrior drew his weapon with silent intent, the clanking sounds of a Black Knight filled the air. Romund arched an eyebrow, but Eihmund shook his head.

Trusting the hyena to the task, he loomed over the raccoon, narrowing his eyes at the other man. Something...something had changed, he realized, and it had almost slipped by him.

"What?" Kaolix asked. "Finally getting enchanted with my good looks?"

Romund merely tilted his head from one side to the other, ignoring the question as he stared at what he could only see as an outline around the raccoon's body. There was a hint of something darker around him, something that made him stand out more than he had before. Perhaps it was merely the fact that Romund was in his world now rather than his own, something of a first for the skunk, but he felt that there was more to it. Something not dissimilar from the monster that he had seen in Nero's world had settled here...and Kaolix carried a piece of it with him, though the skunk had no proof of that.

"What? What?" the pyromancer asked.

"...Nothing."

Clang, clang-tang. The fight was on behind them, and Romund looked over his shoulder. Eihmund was holding his own, despite the size difference. No ground gained, but no ground lost, either; something respectable with just a sword at the moment.

Useful, as well.

"Aren't you going to -"

"He has it in hand. The words; what were they?"

"Oh, right. Here."

Kaolix reached into his pocket, pulling out two stones. He passed them over, shaking his head.

"It's something I picked up from a bull on a balcony. Apparently, it can communicate between worlds, and faster than that other way could," he said.

Useful, indeed. As the skunk tucked it into his pack along with the rest of his gear, one final clang rang out, and a sword hit the steps. The raccoon whipped around, ready to fight, but Romund took his time. Shouldering his pack, he turned to see Eihmund descending the stairs, the hyena shaking his head and grunting as he wiped sweat from his brow.

"Finished?"

"Yeah. Damn thing couldn't use its full strength on the stairs; if it'd been in the open, might've been a different story."

Strong, and tactical. He'd been right.

"So, uh...what now?" Kaolix said. "I mean -"

"Now, we go our separate ways. Provided we all remember what we're supposed to do here?" he asked, looking from face to face.

"Mm-hmm," Eihmund said.

"Well, yes, but..." Kaolix sighed. "Damn. Talk about cleaning up after getting some Humanity..."

The fact that the pyromancer was thinking that now did not surprise him. He had changed markedly from the burned, damaged man that he had been in the Asylum, and unlike the others - or so he imagined - he had lost less in his fight through the Burg and across the bridge. What he'd taken back, he planned to keep.

Eihmund faded quickly, and he felt the same pull dragging at him. Soon, he'd be back in his own world with his own problems. He glanced at the raccoon, his eyes tempted to drift down to the slight darkness that he could feel, nearly see in the pyromancer, but he resisted that urge. If nothing else, it allowed him the chance to give the other man a little...freedom.

After all, the darkness was an unknown quantity. Red shades were invaders, blue shades were those that aided others, as far as he had seen. The white souls that darted here and there were nothing but ghostly crossovers, pre-images of those that were coming his way. But the black ones...

Those ones bore study. And if Kaolix didn't know he knew, then the raccoon was all the more viable as a test subject.

"Take care," he said, and faded.

His own world reasserted itself, and he glanced back at the open gate and the pig waiting behind it. The armored boar stomped its hoof as he walked forward, loincloth swishing from side to side between his thighs, and he reached to his pack as it locked eyes with him.

"Let's see what works best for me."

He found what he was looking for just as the boar charged down the cobblestone streets. The pig howled in the way that only a wild boar could, but it meant nothing to Romund. He pulled his hands up, waited -

Clink.

The boar's tusks clicked against the armored caestus he wore, and he diverted the beast into the stone wall. Its tusks clicked against the stone, breaking through, and he punched up from below.

Crack.

The beast was dead, sagging down against the stone, still hanging from the sharp tusks. Romund pulled his hands back, turning his wrist, and nodded to himself at the weapon.

"Quick, efficient...but not the most -"

An arrow barely missed his tail, and a second one streaked through the air where his head used to be. Not much protection, he was about to say, but still plenty of mobility. Something worth trying, at the very least.

He decided to see how the caestus worked against these Hollows, and vary up his weapons as he explored the Parish. One way or another, he could find the sort of tool that worked best for him.

#

Tink, tink, tink.

Romund turned from the Hollow corpse at his feet, stabbed through the chest by a rapier that he decided to leave behind. Sword, spear, caestus, even a bow had been used in his progress through the Parish, but none had quite fit with what he wanted from his weapons. They were too short, or too light, or simply not suited to the sort of style that he wanted to bring to combat when it was unavoidable. But they were still effective enough for their purpose.

Tink, tink, tink. The sound drew his ears from the right, and he looked away from the church to the ruined path towards a forest. There was something out there, something hammering away. A creature playing with stone, perhaps, or someone else...someone that still had their mind.

Glancing upwards, he saw a hint of smoke coming from somewhere just past the ruins, piped out of the below-ground. The skunk cocked his head to the side, hesitated, then turned his steps toward it. If nothing else, that implied that someone still had their mind down there, and more, that they were working on something. They might not be good company, but they would be better than the ever-mad onslaught of Hollows that he had been dealing with.

The push through the underground cellars and the ramparts of the Parish had been...tiring, and even he would admit that. Despite his Deprived life in the Asylum and before that, the skunk still felt the draining effect of constant fighting, constant adrenaline surging through his veins. It wracked at him and reminded him just how little he'd rested in the last few days. The cost for that would come due, soon enough, and he'd have to find some currency in which to pay it.

But not yet. Not yet.

He followed the sound to the ruins, taking careful steps across the stones to avoid cutting his feet on the rubble. A staircase wrapped around the outer edge of the room, descending into the only part of the ruin that seemed to still be whole.

Once more, he hesitated. One way in, possibly one way out. He didn't know where it went, but...

The Hollows behind are dead. There are only Hollows ahead. And you can outrun them, if push comes to shove.

It was not fear, but logic. He had his Humanity, and he didn't want to lose the flesh and touch and warmth that came with it. A lack of constant pain was a boon that few could understand without experiencing the alternative.

The skunk descended, one hand in his bag as he walked down the stairs. The tink, tink, tink of the hammer on metal continued to ring in his ears, and he knew that he had to be getting closer to the source. He wondered what was waiting down there, and -

The light of a bonfire caught him by surprise. It flared in the middle of the room below, illuminating a path that led out of the room, as well as more stairs that led further down towards the tink, tink, tink sound. The same blaze that had welcomed him at the Asylum and in the small tower in the Undead Burg...

They're everywhere, he thought, pausing to lean on the railing overlooking it. They're everywhere, and they bring life back to the undying...but do they bring life back to the living?

It was a question that he wondered if anyone else had asked. They burned brightly out here, in the lands of Hollows and Undead, but did they burn so bright to those untouched by the Darksign? He'd never asked, and he wondered if he ever could.

It wasn't an experiment that would likely ever bear fruit, however. There were things that had to be done, and those things had to be done swiftly, surely, while they were still making...progress.

As he stared at the fire, he felt something else. Not one of the other shades that he was more familiar with - he doubted that they would be making their way through the Parish as quickly as he had - but rather, one that matched the feeling that he'd saved Nero from earlier. He gripped the railing a little tighter, staring at the light for contrast.

Sure enough, one of the black shades began to take shape at it. Rather than rising in light as he had seen others do, he saw it rise out of swirling black. The silhouette of the lizard took greater detail, going from shadow to inky black, and then to something more living, outlined with the darkness rather than possessed by it. It wore little, barely more than a pair of metal trousers, and as it turned, he saw a black footprint outlined on its chest.

"Another one?" he muttered.

"Ah, the skunk that interfered with a friend of mine," the lizard said, chuckling as he leaned against the far railing. "Perhaps you should come down here? I have an offer for you, just as the bull had an offer for the rabbit."

"..."

"You're not a talkative one, are you?"

Romund was not, particularly not with those that had powers that he didn't understand. Talking could bring information, but it could just as easily give away what you didn't know, or what you didn't expect. He walked to the edge of the stairs, but didn't descend.

"You know, we aren't your enemy." The lizard chuckled. "I'd be happy to give you the same power that we have. The same power that we tried to give that rabbit. It's only reasonable that you have a chance to join the right side, you know...the side of...the Dark Sole."

"..."

"Ah, the strong silent type? My master and my friends will enjoy that, I think. Oh, the whole moaning and worship and everything is wonderful, but there's something about those that know their proper place."

"What do you want?" Romund asked.

"Come here, and I'll show you."

"No. Tell me."

"I've come here to give the gift of the Dark Sole to others. The more that feel it, the more that this world comes to my master's side. Already, so many have fallen, so many have come to understand what the Dark Sole is. Come, now. Let me give it to you."

A lot of talk, but not a lot of information. The lizard clearly didn't want to talk about things, and the way that he stood, showing off that mark on his chest, made it clear that this 'Dark Sole' clearly had nothing to do with the souls that they had been collecting. Romund merely looked at him, head ever so slightly cocked to the side, tail swishing left, right, left, right, taking his time to observe and think.

As the lizard gritted his teeth, clearly fighting his own impatience, little black fires were burning here and there, swelling around the bonfire and the stones at the lizard's feet. It wasn't the same dark fire as what he'd seen in the past, nor the pure fire of what the Pyromancers used. This was something different, something more...more eclectic, something that didn't have the same kind of heat...though he could feel it trying to affect him as it surged higher and higher.

"Why are you afraid?" the lizard asked. "Do you think that my master wouldn't welcome you with open arms?"

"You think that a lack of acceptance implies fear." Romund shook his head. "It is not. It is a lack of interest."

"You'll feel that soon enough."

"Will I?"

"Well, if you won't come to me...I'll come to you."

Romund expected speed, and he got it. The lizard moved swiftly, darting around the fire and up the stairs with the barreling haste of a rock down a mountain. If the skunk hadn't been ready, he would have barely had the time to take a step back.

But he was ready.

He gripped the railing and kicked the lizard just as he charged, shoving him backwards and down the stairs. He followed him down, straddling him and pinning him in place. No getting away, no sliding out from under him.

"I said, I'm not interested."

"You're strong." His opponent smiled. "My master would like that. The Dark Sole would make you stronger."

"I'm done with you now."

This one hadn't come into the world through similar behaviors, as Romund had done, so that meant that he had to be using something to throw himself between the worlds. And that meant that he was carrying it somewhere. He only had one pack at his hips, and it was easy enough to jostle the lizard's sack with his knee to send it spilling open.

The reptile reached up, trying to stop him, but Romund saw the stand-out item almost immediately. A cloudy orb of swirling white lay among the others, and he grabbed it, picking it off the floor.

As soon as he touched it, the lizard disappeared, dropping him fully to the stones below. He grunted from the impact, shaking his head.

"...Well, I was almost done with him..."

But further interrogation was only a bonus to what else he had already gained. He looked at the orb itself, fingers resting on the metal lines around the glass to keep from touching anything more magical at the center, and...

And he felt like there was something looking back at him from the fist-sized glass ball. Something within, or at the very least, something using magic to look out through the glass at him. It was not the same as the other presences that he had felt; the ghosts had barely been aware of him, when they made not of him at all. This was something that was actively trying to perceive him, looking through the orb.

"I do not know you," Romund said, holding the orb at eye level. "But I know that you are starting to know me. Allow me to help you understand something. I do not agree to anything without knowing the details. I do not submit to anyone without knowing what I get out of it. And I do not give myself to anyone without knowing every detail. One does not survive the Asylum as a fool.

"If you want me, tell me what you really want, and perhaps we can talk. Until then? Leave. Me. Alone."

He whipped his arm back and tossed the orb out the archway, sending it flying into the distance. Shaking his head, Romund got back to his feet and looked to the bonfire once more. The darkness had faded, and it looked as warm and welcoming as it always had, beckoning him to reach out and touch it.

He almost did, only to pull his hand back as the tink, tink, tink sound from below rose to meet him once more. If he did touch it, then it was possible that the world would move on, and the sound of the smithy below might change. Every time that he sat at the bonfire, he knew that the Hollows and Undead would rise again, brought back by the warmth of life that the bonfires spread, but there had been other moments, other changes.

Such as the death of the cleric in the Shrine. He had not come back. He had faded, completely, once he sat at the bonfire again.

Some did not come back.

Some disappeared.

Some simply moved on.

One could not trust the bonfires to be an entirely benevolent power, and one had to remember that. He would be one of those that did.

Shaking his head, he walked around the fire to the stairs leading to the lower levels of the ruin. He only paused to see where the other archway led - out, across a bridge to a massive structure - and made a mental note to come back to that in a moment. First, he would see who lived below.

It didn't take long to find them. Sitting behind an anvil, hammer constantly at work beside a fire that belched its smoke through a stone chimney, was a badger. A thick-shouldered, long-bearded badger, at that, who loomed over his work like some ancient warden over their charge. Romund felt a different sense from the smith than he had felt from others, someone that was so focused on their work that they had embedded themselves in it.

It was strange. Not uncomfortable, but strange, to find something that felt so permanent in a world that was constantly changing.

They didn't speak to each other, though he was relatively sure that the smith knew that he was there. He wasn't hiding himself, after all. Yet, likewise, there was no reason to speak if they didn't have business with each other.

But, eventually, he did.

"Hmm."

"Well...you must be a new arrival," the badger muttered, giving the blade he was working one more clink before setting it aside. "I'm Andre, of Astora. If you require smithing, speak to me."

"You offer it freely?"

"Heh, no. Nobody offers anything for free. But I offer quality, and that's more important."

"True."

The skunk descended the stairs, setting foot on the lower level. The badger looked him up and down once, then nodded.

"Forging yourself as much as your weapons, mm?"

"I experiment. Eventually, I'll find the right one."

"The only way," Andre said, nodding as he looked down at his blade. "When you find the right one, come to me. You'll need it stronger for the road ahead."

"You do not care for me; you do not know me. Why do you offer?"

"Who else is going to see if these weapons are good enough for their job?" the badger asked, lifting the shortsword from the anvil and turning it, letting the lights dance along the blade for a moment before setting it down. "The weapons you carry will treat you well enough here and in the Burg, but the further you go, the stronger the Curse is, and the more dangerous those suffering under it have become.

"Having you carry my weapons will tell us both just how good I am...and just how much I can improve what you have."

Romund nodded. It was the same as any craftsman, he supposed; they wanted to see just how far they could push their skills, and Andre wanted to see if he could make weapons that were capable of killing greater horrors. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, considering that he would get weapons that were better than those that he found on the ground.

"What do you need?" Romund asked.

"Titanite. Shards, to start, and bigger pieces as they get stronger."

"I have a few."

"Let's get smithing, then."

The End

Summary: The Dark Soles series continues, this time with Romund's point of view and the realization of some practicalities that he'll need to keep in mind.

Tags: No Sex, Awareness, Loincloth, Mild Arousal, Flirtation, Teasing, Corruption, Dark Souls, Rule 34, Andre, Skunk, Raccoon, Badger, Hyena, Conversation, Worldbuilding,