The Hollow: At The Edge

by Andrew Day

  “See,” Caellix declared. “Simple.”

  The group set up a temporary camp a safe distance away from the bodies of the creatures. Dogbreath, naturally, wanted to try some of the meat to see if it was worth eating, but Caellix dissuaded him. Who knew what was in the blood of those things? He did, however, keep the mandible he had hacked off as a grisly souvenir.

  Out of deference to the fact that they had all, not long ago, gone for a swim in their clothes, Caellix let them light a fire down among the immense roots of a giant tree. They all sat around it, enjoying the warmth and drying themselves out.

  Serrel painfully pulled off his coat and laid it by the fire to dry. When he examined his shoulder, he found the creature that had attacked him in the river had cut through his armour and punctured two small holes in his flesh. That made his day.

  “That?” Brant commented cheerfully as Serrel cleaned the wound and dressed it. “That’s barely a scratch. You should see the scar I got on my leg, from that time I got bitten by a mountain lion.”

  “You were never bitten by a mountain lion, Brant,” said Holly, holding her hands to the fire and shivering.

  “I was too. Big one, it was. Mouth as wide as your arm-”

  “It was a kitten,” Holly told Serrel. “He was playing with his sister’s kitten, and it bit him.”

  “It was a monster,” Brant insisted.

  Holly shuddered. “Let’s never do that again.”

  “Which part? The getting ambushed by monsters, the jumping off into the freezing cold river, or the bit where we ambushed the monsters that originally ambushed us and I nearly got bitten in the arse?”

  “What? I can only pick one thing?”

  “Stop griping, Wells,” said Caellix. “We’re alive, they aren’t. I consider that a win.”

  “I’m just saying... Anyway, I personally don’t mind if you get bitten on the arse,” Holly told Brant. “Serves you right for being such a lousy shot.”

  “My hands were shaking from the cold,” Brant replied, nonplussed. “Besides, I knew the sergeant would have been upset if I didn’t let her have a shot at the thing.”

  “Right,” said Holly. She waved her arms in the air in an exaggerated fashion. “Aaaagh! Save me, Sergeant, save me!”

  “He was more high pitched,” added Caellix.

  “Like a little girl, heheh,” said Dogbreath.

  “I was attracting its attention, as part of the plan,” Brant explained, utterly without shame. “Keeping it occupied so it wouldn’t see the sergeant or Fresh Meat.”

  “The elf didn’t scream as loudly as you,” said Caellix. “Speaking of which, Pointy, you did a good job today. I completely believed your fear.”

  “You must be one of those, what you call ‘em... method actors,” agreed Brant.

  “I was just glad to be of use,” Dhulrael said laconically. He was still paler than normal, and jumping at every unknown noise. “Truly I have missed my calling. Maybe I should have been in the theatre. Perhaps next time, though, someone else could be the bait.”

  “I volunteer the Fresh Meat,” said Dogbreath. “Bet he’d scream loudly. Heheh.”

  “Fresh Meat would make lousy bait,” said Caellix. “He wouldn’t run.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Serrel thought that maybe he saw a glimmer of... maybe not respect, but perhaps just a hint of acceptance from the sergeant. As if he had passed some unspoken test with favourable results.

  “About that,” said Holly tentatively. “Thanks for stopping us from getting killed today, Fresh Meat.”

  “Yeah, Fresh Meat. That was some good hand waving you did today,” said Brant. “Very professional. What with the saving my arse from getting love bites from that overgrown lap dog and everything.”

  Serrel pulled his shirt back on and leaned against the roots of the tree. “You’re welcome... Unless,” he added. “You wanted the love bites?”

  “No, better to play hard to get.”

  “It did come on bit strong for a weird, wolf-beetle monster.”

  “Desperate, I call it,” agreed Brant.

  Serrel looked at Dhulrael. “You honestly don’t know what that thing was? No ideas at all?”

  “Now that I have had time to think about it, without the fear of death hanging over me,” the elf added. “All I can suggest are theories...”

  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.

&nb
sp; “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.”