The doors in front of her are barely on their hinges when Volk climbs the crumbling stone steps to them, checking over her shoulder at her charge. A small cluster of five Zoners make up an odd circle behind her, making sure they face every inch and corner of the courtyard. They are hunters, having asked the Forest permission before to help cull the cherub population, but are currently keeping company with the Stalker until the trees pass by below.
They know she is safe to be with, the Forest favors her and will give her and all with her passage. It is not greed, they have assured the ancient oak and beech and pine, it is survival only that they cling to the Guide, knowing that only a Guide ordained by the Zone can open the castles safely.
They still dot the landscape, of course. German construction would take more than a simple alien landing to topple over, and the Forest seems to like them enough to keep them intact on their ominous crags and hills. So long as the stairs and paths are intact on the way up, there is nothing to fear. Still, even though they have a Guide to open the doors and placate the entity of the interior, they nervously make sure the Forest doesn't have second thoughts by them.
Seeing all are present, Volk turns and regards the old doors again. They are still sturdy, even while their hinges rusted through. The swollen wood will prove no problem for the castle itself. She raises a hand and knocks hard on one panel, three times, heavy enough to hear echoes in the chambers beyond. Then, she takes a step back and waits.
She doesn't have to wait long. The stones begin to creak and groan, from the structure itself to those lining the courtyard to the crumbling walls around that. It is a sound that encompasses, makes the inner ear and chest space rattle. It sounds like this is the only sound in the entire world, that it is the entire world. Needless to say, it is asking who has come calling.
To anyone unaccustomed, it sounds like old wood settling, at a volume that could make one worry about the aged wooden supports holding the structure up. To an ordained Guide, however, there are voices beneath the groan. Sometimes, it's just a few, sometimes there are too many to count, but there are always more than one overlapping in whispers.
Thankfully, Hohengeroldseck is a fairly friendly old creature, fond of the memory of tourist energy from before the Landing. Its greeting is enough to say that, a murmured pleasantry only she can hear.
"Good day, and sorry to disturb you. The trees are migrating through here. Is it alright if my companions and I use you as shelter? We will not stay long." she asks, looking up to focus on any window within view. Like looking someone in the eye to portray sincerity, even if the eyes are scattered all across the surface of the face.
It groans, it whispers, and the hunters move closer toward her nervously, unsure of the castle's temperament. It's probably better that way, really. A fear of the old beasts of ruins is healthy and better than having none.
They only hear one half of the exchange, but it seems to go well. "...Oh, is there a storm rolling in? ... From the north-east? I see... I suppose we could keep you company until it passes, if you will have us ... Yes. Yes, we can keep your conditions, and you may have anyone who refuses to do so. Thank you."
She is certain her charge will respect the castle's rules, and her assurances are enough for it to allow them entry. With a click, the doors open and grind across the floor, and once the Stalker passes the threshold with no consequence, the other five are close behind. Once everyone is inside, the doors shut and lock, drowning the party in a temporary darkness.
She hears the hunters shuffle uncomfortably beside her. "Stay close." she warns them. "If you don't, you won't get out of here."
They don't stray as told, but their nervousness is tangible as a vibrating energy in the blackened entry. The sound of a groan echoes through the building, followed by a brief inexplicable ticking noise, and the room blazes into existence as ornate wall sconces light the path of a corridor in front of them.
For an old ruin that looks like it hasn't changed on the outside, the inside is surprisingly well-furnished. The walls around and ahead of them are fine plaster with a raw wood-grain wainscot, the floor is a dark oak herringbone. It looks maintained and polished, like it has always been this way. She knows this is not the case. She knows the history of this old ruin and understands what is happening here.
"Stay close to me, keep your eyes on me." she instructs. "Don't look around, and especially don't try to peek in the doors."
Muttered acceptance is given from the others and she walks forward, dull footfalls on the wooden floor thudding into the hall. The walls are pocked with dark doorways, yawning abysses where no light shines and the occasional shuffle or scrabble of movement emanates. Even the light from the sconces ends abruptly in the door frames, sharp lines of contrast between warmth and unending cold on the thresholds. Although curiosity grips the Zoners, they know better than to defy a Guide when warning is given, and so she feels five pairs of eyes on her back at all times.
Sound changes in the corridor, sharp as nails on a concrete floor at some points, pockets where there is no sound at all. Castles are, in their own way, like Zones themselves, acting independently of that which creates them. They think for themselves and create their own elaborate trap systems and take their own retribution. This hallway is the first and easiest trap of Hohengeroldseck, and Volk is sure it will change by the time she returns here.
Her charges have not lifted their eyes from her once that she knows of. A quick glance over one shoulder assures her that all of them are still there, and not one of them has drifted or been stolen. Zoners are fairly keen to the ways of the Zone and tend to listen to Guides, however. There is little worry they would disappear when warned.
The hallway ends, the same sharp boundary line carved into the floor as the doors along the walls behind them. The sound of the sconces behind them shutting off slowly causes a shuffle of panic amid the Zoners. They place their hands on her shoulders and back as though using her as an anchor to something real. They are scared, and rightfully so when the darkness returns, the sound of creaking wooden supports permeating the abyss around them growing more and more deafening. Another test, another trap. Something quick and simple, if disorienting, before they are given the prize.
The sconces light, but not behind them. They will not go back using that hallway, it is dangerous now. Before them is a room. It is large and octagonal, the same plaster and wainscot walls with a vaulted ceiling held by strong curved supports and the polished wood floor. A stairway curves up one side with narrow slit windows covered in stained glass. A fireplace in the far wall blazes to life, the chandelier in the ceiling lights. It is a cozy space, a feel of calmness hanging over it with its rugs and low seats and a stack of bedding in one corner. When counted, there are five sets for five hunters.
"Hohengeroldseck has chosen to give you shelter and safety for the duration of the storm rolling in." She translates the conditions of the castle ruin given her earlier, letting her sense of gravity re-establish itself from the dizzying trip between rooms. "Its only condition is that you five never leave this room. It will provide comfort, provided you are not impolite."
Sighs of relief and confirmation of the conditions are replied in every mouth, and slowly, they flutter like a flock of birds to rest at the fireplace, accenting their short trek with giving thanks to the walls and to the floor and to the fire. Anything they associate with the castle is given thanks before they settle for good.
Volk has faith they will do as told, and that all five will be there waiting when she comes to get them. Guides rarely stay with those they enter with when in castles. The old ruins ask for company, and only the Guides know how to give that company. As soon as she sees the Zoners made comfortable, the wall behind her slides open and she exits through it as bade.
The groaning whispers are back as the wall shuts behind her. Asking where it is she would like to stay, to sleep, to talk.
"I would like to watch the storm, if that's alright."
Confirmation, another wall sliding to one side in front of her to offer her passage to a crumbling stone stairway, narrow enough she has to turn slightly to climb up it. The walls here are made of stone, broken and fractured but still standing sturdy. This is the true face of the castle, the ruin.
She looks down through a split in the wall, at the way the wooden supports are quietly mending and weaving over themselves, a slow process. Hohengeroldseck is slowly, but surely, rebuilding itself to reflect its glorious past. The room the hunters are staying in is real, it is merely a part of an unexplainable labyrinth the castle has built up for itself, a form of defense. It is not the center of the labyrinth, however, and there are still many corridors and halls and tunnels that branch off it. If they all stay in that room, they will be safe and not get lost.
She arrives at the top of the stairs, the stone walls cloaking her movement. Holes in them brought on by age are also rebuilding, just as slowly as the wood separating floors below. It's more subtle with masonry, her diligent eyes picking up on the crackle and shift of blocks and brick slotting together. Where it gets the materials is a mystery, but not one anyone is truly eager to solve.
She reaches her destination, a small outcrop that might have been a window seat in a turret at one point. The stonework remains, carved around the window wells and worn by time and the elements before the Landing. Through the glassless windows here, she can see the Forest below.
A herd of the trees, likely the one they were initially avoiding, is making an obvious path below, scuttling along as the trees do on their root systems. They will not come near the hill that the castle sits on. Nothing comes to the castles besides desperate humans and the faithful Guides.
A few clearings can be seen from her vantage, the glimmer of artificial light denoting four hamlets and one of the smaller towns. But that is not what she is looking for.
The horizon a short ways off is dark and broiling with streaks of vibrant green veins, the storm the ruin warned her of. The wind is starting to blow over the Forest below, upsetting the canopy like hard waves on a green sea. She can see the flashes of light within the folds, hear distant thunder. The trees surrounding the hamlets and town start to bow further forward, creating an umbrella over each. They are protecting their people against the incoming onslaught of weather, readying to catch heavy rain and hail threatening them.
She settles in the frame of the central window, resting her arsenal and equipment to one side carefully. It isn't long now...
Hohengeroldseck doesn't speak much now that she is in her place. It will simply enjoy her presence and alert her if anything goes wrong with the hunters in their room. The groaning creak has ceased altogether, even when the headwind hits the ancient structure. It carries the smell of freezing water and heavy ozone, a chill ruffle of her loose hairs in its embrace, the loud crack of thunder and lightning drowning out the ambient clink and grind of the masonry placing itself. The rain begins to patter, large drops darkening the pale stone more with each passing second.
In a way, it is humbling. A reminder that even a Zone is not exempted of something so primal as nature's fury.
A/N: Someone reminded me that there are almost a hundred different castle sites in the Black Forest, although only about four of them are suitable for tourists. The rest are old ruins they've identified, most of those from before the unification of the kingdoms and territories.
So I got to thinking; what would a Landing do to them, and this is what happened. Might write more for it, might not. Depends on the audience's approval.
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