The Hollow: At The Edge (16 page)

Caellix make a
disgusted sound. “What? Again?”

“You saw their eyes?”
Dhulrael asked, ignoring her.

“They were green.
Everything in this bloody forest has green eyes,” said Serrel.

“Most things,”
corrected Dhulrael, putting on his best lecturing voice. It was
easy to believe he had been a teacher at some point. “Many animals
have been exposed to the ether here in this forest. It changes
them. The most obvious sign of exposure is that the eyes turn
green, and sometimes glow.”

“Like the Ferine,” said
Holly.

“Exactly. But unlike
the rest of this forest, the Ferine purposely exposed themselves to
the ether and transformed. These creatures are similar. They are
unlike anything that exists in the natural world. I believe that
someone created them with magic.”

“People can do that?”
asked Serrel with interest.

“With great difficulty,
and with a complete lack of moral fibre I might add,” replied
Dhulrael. “I personally would not know how to even begin, but there
are stories. Do you know of the lands to the north? I believe the
Empire refers to them as the Darklands.”

“A bunch of desert
wastelands,” said Caellix. “Weird people used to live there.”

“Darklings,” Serrel
remembered. “My grandmother used to tell us stories about
them.”

“Mine too,” said Holly
in amusement. “Be good, or the Darklings will take you away.”

“They built a wall
around their entire country, to keep the Empire out,” Caellix said.
“That’s a compliment if ever I heard one.”

“I dread to think of
the wall they would have built to keep
you
out, Sergeant,”
said Dhulrael.

“I would have enjoyed
breaking it down. What have children’s stories got to do with those
creatures?”

“I just remembered one
of the legends of the Darklands is that at one time, a group of
dark wizards attempted to overthrow their queen by creating an army
of horrific monsters by cross breeding humans with other strange
and grotesque beasts. They called them-”

“Insectim,” said Serrel
with a laugh. “I remember that. They were supposed to look like a
cross between a person and some kind of bug, right?”

The group thought about
the monsters that had stalked them through the forest, with six
legs and multiple eyes.

“Alrighty,” said Brant.
“So we were attacked by things out of a children’s story?”

“A really freaky
children’s story,” Holly clarified.

“I am merely pointing
out the similarities,” said Dhulrael quickly. “The Darklings walled
up their country, and all of their knowledge. But such things have
a way of escaping, of slipping through the cracks. Perhaps someone
found the way to recreate their techniques.” Dhulrael shifted
uncomfortably. “Or maybe I am simply still in shock, and my mind is
starting to wonder on me. I mean,” he added with a forced laugh.
“For all I know, those creatures were simply some form of dire wolf
from the Elder Isles. Things are strange here, but they are very,
very
strange over there. Just because
I
have never
seen one before, does not instantly make it the result of twisted,
magical experimentation.”

“True,” said Caellix.
“It does seem far-fetched. But if you told me about a fleet of
ships being attacked by schools of kraken, and giant sharks, I
would have thought that was far-fetched too. But the thing is, I’ve
hunted nearly every sort of creature in the Empire worth hunting,
and that includes human beings. I am a predator, elf. I know what
sort of life should exist on this world. And when I looked at those
things I felt... disgusted. Some part of me, deep inside, looked
through my eyes and knew that those obscenities should not
exist.”

“Me too,” agreed
Dogbreath, unexpectedly solemn.

Dhulrael was uneasy.
“The amount of power needed to do all of these things, to conjure
sea creatures, and invent new forms of life would be...
frightening. If there really were someone capable of performing
such acts of weaving...”

“I know,” said Caellix.
“They’d be practically a god.”

“I was going to say,
they must be very, very powerful. It sounds less terrifying that
way.”

“Well, I’m glad we
cleared that up. Anyway, time’s wasting. We should get a move
on.”

There were groans from
the others.

“Just a little while
longer,” asked Holly.

“We did jump off a
cliff this morning,” Serrel pointed out.

Caellix rolled her
eyes. “Fine. Just a little while, though. You bunch of lazy
whiners.”

“You’re a softy, aunty
Caellix,” Dogbreath teased.

“Keep pushing me, old
man, and I swear, I will rip that vermin’s nest you call a beard
right off your podgy face.”

“That’s low, Caellix.
Picking on a man’s beard.”

“That isn’t a beard,
Dogbreath, that’s a plague outbreak waiting to happen.”

Serrel rested his head
back, and closed his eyes. The good natured bickering of his
squad-mates, the warmth of the fire, the lush smells of the forest,
helped him drift off so that for a moment, one tiny fleeting
moment, he could allow himself to forget the battles ahead, the
death and destruction that undoubtedly waited for him, and the
Hollow within.

Part 4
: Not What We
Were.

In light of the events
of the last few days, the group was naturally edgy when they set
off again. But because they were tired and hungry, a lot of their
supplies having been unfortunately lost during their dramatic
escape from the twisted creatures of the forest, their attempts at
travelling quietly were half hearted at best. Caellix still
insisted on covering as much ground as possible before the day’s
end.

His earlier efforts at
weaving had left Serrel more exhausted than normal. Though his
inability to get a decent night’s sleep was also probably catching
up with him. Using his staff as a walking stick, he set a fairly
decent pace with the other soldiers. For lack of anything else to
do, he spoke to Dhulrael.

“You said you were a
teacher?” he asked.

“Yes. Well, not for the
last few years, since I decided to become Patrician of Vollumir.
But before that, I was Headmaster of Vollumir Children’s
College.”

“Did you teach anything
interesting?” Holly joined in.

“History, and first
level weaving.”

“Nothing interesting
then,” Holly said flatly.

“History can be very
interesting, Corporal Wells. If we do not study our past, we cannot
hope to have a better future, for we will be doomed to forever
repeat the mistakes of our past.”

Holly made a rude noise
with her lips. “The past is the past. Let it die.”

Dhulrael looked
practically scandalised.

“So you taught weaving
then?” Serrel pressed on, before things got ugly. “Are you any
good?”

“To be honest, no.
That’s why I only taught first level. That is basically teaching
five year olds not to set themselves on fire.”

“I thought all elves
were supposed to be powerful wizards,” said Holly.

“No. Nearly all of us
can weave, but these days only a rare few can show much talent.
Even fewer can weave with as much skill as Caster Hawthorne has
today. It was truly impressive.”

“It was all right,”
Holly said impassively, though Serrel suspected she was purposely
acting neutral.

“I used to like history
when I was in school,” Brant said suddenly.

The group looked at
him. Even Caellix seemed to falter in mid-step. She glanced back
over her shoulder.

“Are you trying to be
funny again?” she asked suspiciously.

“Me? Funny? Never.”

“When were you ever in
school?”

“When I was a young
lad, I was sent to Killinworth’s Boys School.”

“Was that like a
workhouse?” Holly asked.

“Nah. Proper boys
school. All toffee-nosed rich boys, and stuffy teachers. Chalks and
slates and learning to read the classics. Running ten Ks in the
rain. Good practice for training camp, really.”

“You went to some stuck
up boys school?” Caellix said with obvious wonder. “You can barely
count to twenty unless you’re barefoot. And don’t get me started on
your spelling. You’re telling me that you, Brant O’Kellin, are
actually
educated
?”

“Never said I was a
good
student,” Brant went on. “I just said I went there.
Obviously, when the first opportunity to leg it arose, I left and
took the bronze. Seemed more my thing. And, hey, at least I didn’t
have to sign an X on the recruitment scroll.”

“That makes you
practically officer material.”

“I always thought I had
tremendous prospects for promotion. Maybe one day, when ol’ Snow’s
retired, I could actually be in charge of the Hounds. Wouldn’t that
be something?”

“Over my long dead,
decomposing corpse, Brant.”

“You could do worse,”
Brant said brightly, undaunted.

“I’d vote for you,”
said Dogbreath.

“Aw, thanks, mate.”

“You don’t vote for
a...” Caellix just shook her head in irritation.

“Hold on. I thought
your father was a gamekeeper,” said Holly.

“He was,” said Brant.
“We worked for the Shelbys. Lived on their estate. Old man Shelby
was quite fond of doing his bit for the kids. He sent all his
servant’s kids to posh schools. He was a good bloke. I still like
to raise a glass to old bugger. You should have seen his face when
he saw me in uniform for the first time. Him and my old man, proud
as punch they were. Didn’t even care about all the trouble I got in
at school.”

He looked about, when
he realised there was suddenly something of an icy silence in the
group. Holly was glowering at the ground, and Serrel was making a
face.

Brant looked sheepishly
at Holly. “Oh, right. I’m sorry, Hol.”

“Forget it,” Holly said
in a low voice. “It’s no big deal.”

“I just-”

“I know, Brant. Just
forget it.”

Serrel wondered what
that was about, but didn’t want to press Holly. She was prickly at
the best of times. He asked Brant, in a rather disbelieving tone,
“A lord actually paid for you to go to school?”

“Yup.”

“With his own
money?”

“Yup. I told you, he
was a good bloke.”

Serrel snorted. “A good
bloke? A lord? Suddenly that Darkling story doesn’t seem so
far-fetched.”

“Ah. One of those are
you? Don’t like the snobby upper classes?”

“Nobody likes the
snobby upper classes,” said Caellix.

“Except served with
mashed taters, heheh,” said Dogbreath.

“Well put.”

“You like Captain
Snow,” pointed out Brant. “Well... as far as you’re capable of
liking anyone, Sergeant.”

“That’s different.
He’s... Well, he’s just Snow.”

“Snow’s a lord?” asked
Serrel.

“Oh, yes. Old money.
Big estate, a small army of hired help and a grand white
stallion.”

“He just seemed so...”
Serrel struggled for a word.

“Reasonable?” suggested
Brant.

“Human?” went
Caellix.

“Nice,” Serrel settled
with.

“He’s not like most
lords,” said Caellix.

“And besides,” added
Holly. “He is a little bit... weird.”

“No one’s debating
that.”

“What’s with the
anti-nobility sentiment, Fresh Meat?” Brant asked.

“Nothing,” said Serrel.
“I’ve just met a few in my time, and I never heard of one doing
something decent like paying to send an employee’s children to
school. Paying one of them to burn a school down, now that I’d
believe.”

“Bad experience, huh?”
asked Brant surreptitiously.

“I’ve just never gotten
anything from a lord except grief. And exile.”

That last part slipped
out. It had been ebbing and flowing through his mind a fair bit
recently, seeing as how it was technically the reason he was in his
current predicament. But he didn’t mean to say it aloud. The others
all looked at him with sudden interest.

“Exile,” repeated
Caellix.

“Like... proper exile?”
asked Brant. “All that, “on pain of death” and everything?”

Serrel sighed. “Well,
if you must know, yes.”

“Wow,” said Holly with
amusement. “I would not have guessed that.”

“Out of morbid
curiosity, what would you have guessed?”

“Not sure. I was
thinking maybe you were some overachieving wizard’s apprentice, and
you killed your master in some kind of fit of jealous rage and ran
off to the Legion to hide. Something stupid like that. But getting
exiled, that’s much more interesting.”

“What did you do?”
Brant asked with a huge grin. “Sleep with his daughter?”

Serrel saw that coming,
and despite his best efforts, he still turned red. He looked off
into the trees nonchalantly.

“You did, didn’t you?”
Brant laughed. “Serrel, you sly dog, you!”

“Hey, it wasn’t like
that!” Serrel objected. “Look, we were friends. Then we were more
than friends. Her father found out. Exiled. End of story.”

“Aw,” said Holly
cruelly. “Exiled over unrequited love. You poor thing.”

“I’m so glad the
tragedy that is my short, sad life is of such amusement to you
all.”

“I wouldn’t say
amusing.”

“Maybe a little
amusing,” said Brant.

“But tragic,” Dhulrael
said sympathetically. “Indeed, tragic.”

“Just a little bit
pathetic,” added Holly.

“I suppose you all have
great, exciting, noble stories about why you all joined the
Legion,” replied Serrel.

“Sure,” said Dogbreath,
grinning. “I got drunk, passed out, and the next thing I know, I’m
waking up in the middle of the Fulgari Valley in a Legion uniform,
surrounded by orcs. That’s a hell of a way to spend a hangover I
can tell you.”