The Hollow: At The Edge (25 page)

Mouse waited patiently
to see if Serrel was going to burst into flames, or turn to smoke.
When he remained seemingly whole and corporeal, she calmly stepped
forward and touched the crystal with her own hand. She jerked with
a start as the energy poured into her.

“Wow,” she said, wide
eyed. She lifted her own staff and fired off her own beam of
energy. It was bigger than Serrel’s.

Victor and Annabella
exchanged reluctant glances, then one after the other, joined them
at the Illudin.

The four of the them
weaved the energy as fast as they could, but it barely seemed to
make any difference. The torrent did not seem to let up at all.
Serrel looked up at the vast beams of light discharging into the
blue sky. All that energy, just wasted into the nothingness. He
thought he could understand why Morton felt the way he did about
the Illudin. With it you could do anything.

His glance fell on
Holly Wells’ body, lying under his bloodied and travel worn coat.
He wondered how far that went. If you could do anything, could you
bring back the dead? Could you seal the wounds and shock the heart
into beating, and force lungs to take in air? Could you fill the
flesh with enough energy in place of a soul so that the body itself
remembered who it was meant to be?

It was so tempting, the
power and the ability right there, coursing through him. But Serrel
remembered that he was not a god. That he had no control over
anything, let alone the life and death of others. All you could do
was weave as fast as you could, and save whoever you could.

So instead, he turned
to the cliffs that overlooked the quarry floor. He had never worked
with stone before. But really, at this moment in time, how
different would it be from wood? He lowered his staff and pointed
it at the cliffs. He weaved.

It did not matter how
much energy they burned, the Illudin had more. It seemed that the
harder they weaved, the more energy filled them up. It was as
though the energy trapped inside wanted to be used. As if it were
not the Illudin that was alive, as Serrel had pondered briefly
before, but the ether itself. Trapped like an animal in cage, and
suddenly released to be what it was meant to be. To burn and heal.
To grow mountains and turn the world on its axis. To flow through
all things.

The time seemed to drag
on and on for them, but in truth the entire process took only a few
minutes. But the energy rushed forth so easily and willingly that
when it was completely used up, when the flow died, the sudden
quiet was shocking. And within the Illudin there appeared a great
Hollow, a void more vast and empty than Serrel had ever felt within
himself. And whereas the Illudin previously gave without measure,
the sudden vacuum sucked at their beings. Serrel felt his spirit
being drained into the gaping maw of the Illudin, and jumped back
in shock.

He lost contact with
crystal, and fell backwards to the ground, landing roughly on his
rear end. Three more thuds and yelps of shock suggested his
companions had done the same.

There was a moment of
silence, then Annabella exclaimed, “What was
that
?”

“What was what?” Victor
asked.

“At the end, before I
lost contact, there was this great big... hole right in the middle
of that thing.”

“Oh, that,” said Serrel
shakily. “It was the Hollow. The Illudin actually felt the Hollow
when it ran out of energy.”

“
That’s
the
Hollow everyone goes on about?” Annabella asked in shock.

“You’ve never felt it
before?”

“No. I’ve never really
done enough weaving to get that far.” She shuddered. “And frankly,
I never want to again.”

They stood up, and
dusted themselves off. Serrel saw that the Illudin had gone from
being a blood red colour, to being completely transparent like
glass. It was completely empty.

“Guess that worked
then,” commented Victor.

“It was fun,” said
Mouse. “Pity we can’t do that again.”

“Are you joking?”
Annabella asked her in disbelief.

Mouse shrugged. “It
felt good, knowing that for few moments there was nothing in the
world that could touch me. And now I’ll probably never feel that
way again.” She pointed at the cliffs. “I like what Serrel did
though.”

“It’s a good likeness,”
agreed Annabella.

With all the energy at
his disposal, Serrel had used it to engrave on the cliff face above
them a huge likeness of Holly Wells. She had a bow in one hand and
a sword in the other, and wore the same impatient and determined
expression she had often worn in life.

Footsteps heralded the
return of the rest of the group. They stared up the stone engraving
silently.

“Not bad, Fresh Meat,”
conceded Caellix.

“I think she’d have
liked it,” said Brant. “It would have gone to her head though, to
see herself carved in stone a hundred metres high.”

“It’s not even close to
a hundred metres.”

“Wherever she is now,
she’ll be telling people it was a hundred metres high. I know I
would.” He sighed. “Bye, Hol.”

Dogbreath turned to the
Illudin. “Can I smash it
now
?” he whined.

Dhulrael gave the
crystal a quick examination whilst behind him, Morton looked on
dourly.

“I suppose so,” said
Dhulrael.

“Finally!” said
Dogbreath. He lifted his axe and charged the Illudin.

“Wait, you should-”

There was an almighty
crash as Dogbreath’s axe slammed into the smooth clear surface of
the crystal, and the Illudin shattered into hundreds of pieces.

He stared at the mess.
“That’s it?” he asked in disappointment.

“I did say they were
fragile.”

“I could have sneezed
and taken the bloody thing out.”

“
Animals
,” they
heard Morton hiss in disgust. He turned his back on the ruined
Illudin, unable to look at it.

“Be glad we aren’t
leaving you in a similar mess,” Caellix told him. “We’ve done what
we came for. Let’s get going before the Ferine regroup.”

“After that display,
they’d have to be idiots,” said Victor.

“We can’t leave Holly
here,” said Serrel suddenly. He turned to Caellix. “We left all
those others behind, the soldiers, your dog. We can’t leave her
just lying here.”

“We don’t have time for
this,” started Jurgen.

“So go,” Caellix
replied coldly. “We’ll make the time. Look around the camp. The
Ferine didn’t carry that damn crystal around on their shoulders,
they’d have smashed it to pieces long ago.”

Brant found the cart
they had been using, along with an old and rather irritable donkey
the Ferine had resisted eating long enough to have it pull the
cart. In the back of the cart, there was a strange wooden
construction with a lot of springs and clockwork that was probably
used to hold the Illudin and prevent it from getting bumped on the
journey. As a craftsman, Serrel took a moment to appreciate the
workmanship on the framework, before he violently broke it into
pieces, letting his anger and frustrations vent on the inanimate
object as he hurled it to the ground and hammered it beyond repair.
He imagined the Ferine as he tore it to splinters.

When he was done, he
found the others staring at him.

“Sorry,” he said
weakly.

They loaded Holly and
the three soldiers into the back of the cart, and covered them with
a piece of cloth cut from one of the Ferine tents. Dhulrael
examined the contents of the tents, taking a few items he thought
might be of value, and then Mouse set fire to them without a
word.

With Jurgen impatiently
leading them on, the group set off with Dogbreath at the reins of
the cart. Behind them lay just smoke and ruin, and the likeness of
a dead girl carved in white stone.

Unseen by anyone, a
dark, winged shadow circled high in the sky overhead, and watched
as the group disappeared down the road.

Part 5
:
Old Faces.

They stuck close to the
main road, just in case they ran into anyone else from the Legion.
They did not know how many Ferine still roamed the forests. The sky
to the east was becoming darker and more foreboding, signalling the
future onset of an autumnal storm.

They came across an inn
at the side of the road as the first clap of thunder echoed across
the land.

“Maybe we should stop
for the night, and wait out this storm,” suggested Annabella.

“We aren’t far from
Vollumir,” said Dhulrael. “But it will be dark by the time we get
there, and this storm will be over us well before then.”

Caellix looked at the
building. It looked quiet and empty.

“Let’s take a look,”
she said. “Dogbreath, Blackwood, check the stable. Jurgen, you and
Kincade sweep around the building.”

“You know I outrank
you,” said Jurgen.

“Captain Jurgen, Sir,
respectfully, you and Kincade check around the gods damn building.
Brant, Pointy, watch Morton. The rest of you with me.”

Serrel, Mouse and the
remaining soldier, whose name Serrel hadn’t caught, followed
Caellix and Vost into the inn. It was dark, and there was a faint
smell of smoke in the air. The main room was wide and spacious,
full of tables. A long counter sat opposite the front door.

Caellix pointed Serrel
to the back rooms, to check out the kitchens and the storerooms,
while she and the others searched the rooms on the upper storey.
Serrel illuminated his way with a glowing ember he weaved at the
end of his staff. In the dim light he saw the kitchens were empty.
Someone seemed to have taken all the food with them.

“Anything
interesting?”

Serrel started, then
sighed. Bloody assassins. He turned to find Annabella grinning at
him.

“Nothing,” he said.
“Where did you come from?”

“Through the cellar.
Looks like someone cleared the place out. Come on.”

They went back to the
main room. Annabella went behind the counter and looked around.

“They even cleared out
the strongbox,” she noted. She turned to the row of barrels along
the wall behind the counter, and drummed on them with her fist.
They were all empty, except one. “I bet the Legion passed by
here.”

“Why do you think
that?”

“You clearly haven’t
been in the Legion long. No army is going to walk past this place
and not stop for a drink.”

Caellix and the others
stomped back down the stairs.

“Empty,” said Caellix.
She pulled up a stool and sat besides Serrel at the counter. “This
place has been stripped bare.”

“I was just saying
that,” said Annabella. She was wiping a tankard clean, and grinned.
“’Ere, you look like you’ve been though the wars, mate, what’ll it
be?” she asked, putting on the strange accent that people in the
Imperial Capital sometimes had.

“Three pints of your
finest ale, good lady,” replied Serrel. “And a small shandy for
Mouse.”

“My mother told me I
should never drink,” said Mouse.

“Why on earth would
anyone tell you something like that?” asked Caellix.

“She said alcohol makes
woman weak and insensible, and turns men into beasts.”

“True,” agreed
Annabella. “The bit about men at least. ‘Ere you go, love. Drink
up.”

She laid a row of
tankards on the counter, and slid a small cup in front of Mouse.
Serrel waited until Caellix took a swallow from her drink before he
drank his own.

The door opened.

“Are you all drinking
on duty?” asked Victor.

“Are you all drinking
on duty and didn’t invite me?” complained Dogbreath.

Brant and Dhulrael
followed them in not long after, Brant shoving Morton in before
him. He pushed Morton into a seat in the corner where he could keep
an eye on him, and joined the others at the counter.

Caellix held up her
tankard. “To fallen friends.”

They held up their
drinks in respectful silence, then drank. After the long day they
had gone through, it was a welcome respite.

Mouse looked at her
empty cup. “I don’t see what the fuss is about,” she commented.

“It isn’t bad,”
critiqued Victor. “We brewed better ale at the monastery,
though.”

“Blackwood Ale. Now
that’s the stuff,” agreed Dogbreath.

“The ales of this
region are adequate,” commented Dhulrael. “But if you really want
to relax after a long day, you cannot go past a decent elvish wine
made from evenberries.” He sighed at the thought.

“Wine,” Dogbreath made
a rude noise. “That’s not a proper drink. You can’t quaff
wine.”

“Wine is not for
quaffing
, dear sir. You savour it on the tongue.”

“It’s drink, not a
woman, elf. Even this piss weak ale is better than some snooty
elvish wine.”

“’Ere, you badmouthin’
my establishment or wot?” said Annabella.

“Stop talking like
that,” said Caellix.

“You fink I’m talkin’
funny or somethin’?”

“I mean it,
Kincade.”

“That’s it. You’re
barred.”

“You’re all idiots,”
came a contemptuous voice.

“You’re barred as
well,” Annabella told Morton.

“Look at you all.
Trying to let yourselves forget that soon, you’re all going to
die,” Morton said. “You may as well drink yourselves into a blind
stupor. That may be the only way you can numb yourselves to the
pain that’s coming.”

“I plan to,” said
Dogbreath with a grin.

“Tell me something,”
said Serrel. “Was Morton always this big a git, or is this a new
thing?”

“He was always an
obnoxious twat,” said Brant. “This gloomy, death-to-all stuff is
new though.”

Caellix turned and gave
Morton an expression that suggested she would dearly love to skin
him alive. “Are you still being sore about your stupid crystal?”
she asked.