The Hollow: At The Edge

by Andrew Day

  Serrel cursed inwardly. The damn spell wasn’t working, and he wasn’t sure why. He started over.

  “Just picture it in your mind, Holly,” Caellix stroked the girl’s hair.

  “I just want to go home... Just one more time...”

  Serrel weaved the ether once more with Ilisolde. But now he could not seem to match Holly’s aura.

  “Fresh Meat.”

  Why did this have to be so hard?

  “Serrel.”

  A calloused hand closed over his wrist. He looked up into Caellix’s face. Her expression said it all.

  Serrel looked down at Holly Wells lying still on the ground. He fell back and sat down hard. He noticed his hands were streaked with her blood.

  “I didn’t save her,” he breathed.

  “There was nothing you could have done,” said Caellix.

  “There was... I just... Maybe I didn’t...” He tried to think, tried to figure out what had gone wrong.

  “This wasn’t your fault,” Caellix told him sternly.

  “I didn’t save her.”

  “Neither did I.”

  Serrel felt like something was crushing his chest. He couldn’t breath.

  “You were right about me,” he said.

  “Don’t, Fresh Meat.”

  “We me first met, you were right. What is the point? What is the point of weaving if I can’t even help save the life of just one person.”

  “You’ve saved plenty of lives. If it weren’t for you, more than one of us would have been dead by now. But sometimes it doesn’t matter how good you are, or how hard you try, sometimes the lives of other people are just beyond your control.”

  She stood up stiffly as the rest of their group slowly gathered around them. Brant’s face fell.

  “Oh, no...”

  “What’s happening?” Caellix asked.

  “The...” Dogbreath swallowed hard. “The bloody Ferine did a runner after their bloody mage went bonkers.”

  “They’ll be back. We need to finish this quickly. Brant? Brant!”

  Brant looked up. “Sergeant?”

  “You know where we left the elf. See if he’s still alive and bring him here.”

  “But-”

  “Move it, Corporal O’Kellin.”

  “Yes, Sergeant.” Brant turned and ran back to the woods where they had left Dhulrael hiding.

  “How many did we lose?” Caellix asked.

  “Four,” answered Jurgen. “Including your girl. I’m sorry, Caellix.”

  “She was a soldier. She was brave. What about your new boy, and the Mouse?”

  “I saw them on the cliff, they’re coming down.”

  They turned to regard the Illudin, still pulsing ominously with light.

  “So that’s what all this fuss was about,” Caellix said.

  “We can’t just smash it?” asked Dogbreath.

  “Let’s see what the elf has to say.”

  Dhulrael soon showed up following behind Brant. He looked at the Illudin in awe and wonder. He started to smile, then he saw Holly and blanched.

  “Oh, my,” he whispered sadly.

  “Come on, elf, we haven’t got day,” Jurgen grumbled.

  Dhulrael ignored him, and knelt by Holly’s side. Serrel heard him mutter a prayer in elvish.

  “What does that mean?” Serrel asked him.

  “It is a prayer used when a traveller dies on the road. We beseech the gods to carry their spirit back to their home.”

  “Fitting.”

  “Are you hurt, Caster Hawthorne?”

  Serrel looked at his hands. “It isn’t my blood.”

  Dhulrael nodded, and stood up. “Come along, Caster Hawthorne. We are not finished yet, and we are still, ourselves, a long way from home.” He held out his hand to Serrel.

  Serrel hesitated, then took it, and let the elf help him to his feet. Then he pulled off his coat and covered Holly’s body.

  “Now, let us take a look at this ancient wonder,” said Dhulrael. He went to the large crystal and examined at it reverently. “Oh, my. All of my life I have dreamt about looking upon one of the Anphalae.”

  “And now you get to break one,” said Dogbreath.

  “I know,” sighed Dhulrael. “A shame. But, one does what one must.”

  As he walked a slow circle around the Illudin, Serrel heard rapid footsteps behind him. He half turned, but found a pair of thin arms wrapped around his midsection.

  “We thought you were dead!” Mouse exclaimed.

  “I’m fine. How are you two?”

  “Us?” said Victor. “We’re peachy. We weren’t the ones who fell off a cliff. How did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  Victor rolled his eyes. “Not go splat when you hit the ground. Shield? No, that wouldn’t have worked...”

  “What are you talking about? You mean it wasn’t you two?” Serrel looked back and forth at them.

  “It all happened so fast,” said Mouse. “One moment you were there, the next you were gone.”

  “I was too busy hanging on,” agreed Victor. “There wasn’t time to do anything.”

  Serrel glanced around the group.

  “Don’t look at me,” said Caellix.

  “I didn’t even see what happened until cliff fell,” said Jurgen. “I haven’t weaved in years anyway. Are you sure you didn’t do it yourself? Subconsciously?”

  Serrel thought about the way he had stopped in mid-air. “No. I’m sure I didn’t.”

  “You must have. There’s no one else. Except Annabella, and that sort of weaving is beyond her.”

  “Can we focus on one crisis at a time,” snapped Caellix. “Elf, how’s it coming?”

  “Slowly, Sergeant,” replied Dhulrael.

  “Where is Annabella?” asked Victor.

  “I’m here,” the other assassin said, rejoining the group. “And look what I found.”

  She shoved a man in a torn Legion uniform onto his knees in front of Jurgen.

  Caellix frowned. “Morton?”

  “Ah. Hello, Sergeant,” said the former mage. “I should have known it was you. You always had a poor sense of timing.” He tried to rise, and was pushed back down by Annabella.

  “This one of yours?” Jurgen asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Not by choice. But technically he is in the Hounds. Morton, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “I’m a prisoner, Sergeant. I would have thought that was obvious.”

  Annabella snorted. “A prisoner. Of the Ferine,” she said disbelievingly. “I found him in an unguarded tent, unbound, unharmed, surrounded by these.”

  She handed Jurgen a old and worn book with a frayed leather cover. It looked like it had suffered fire damage at some point.

  “So the Ferine captured you, and then invited you to peruse their library,” said Caellix. “You’ll forgive us if we seem a bit sceptical about that.”

  “If I could explain, Sergeant, I’m sure...” Morton trailed off when he saw Dhulrael reaching out to the Illudin. “DON’T TOUCH THAT!”

  Dhulrael jumped backwards in surprise. “What...? Who are you?”

  “Don’t touch it!” Morton hissed. “You don’t know what you’re doing, you stupid elf. Do you have any idea what this is?”

  “I might have a vague idea, yes,” Dhulrael replied, affronted.

  “If you break it...” Morton tried to stand, and was again shoved back on his knees by Annabella.

  “You,” Caellix pointed at Dhulrael. “Get back to work. You,” she rounded on Morton. “Answer my question. What are you doing here?”

  “When the camp was attacked, I was taken prisoner,” Morton replied, trying to see around her at what Dhulrael was doing.

  “The Ferine don’t take prisoners unless they’re planning to eat them. They especially don’t give them their own tent and some reading material.”

  “The one in charge, the mage. He wasn’t Ferine. He recognised my worth and offered me the chance to see the Illudin for
myself.”

  “And you just went along with him, willingly?”

  “Of course,” said Morton impatiently. “What was I supposed to do?”

  “Um, maybe not surrender,” suggested Brant.

  Serrel thought about what he knew of the man. A unpleasant idea occurred to him.

  “The Ferine don’t take prisoners, so they when they attacked the camp and found you, they wouldn’t have dragged you all the way back to their leader,” he said. “You went to them, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I did,” said Morton unabashed. “When I saw that light in the sky, I knew what it meant. We had no hope against that sort of power. We should have surrendered to them straight away. But no. Not in the Legion. Death or glory every time.”

  “And they didn’t just kill you then and there. What did you give them?” asked Caellix.

  “Whatever they wanted,” Morton replied. “Names, numbers, tactics. Anything that would prove my usefulness. But what they really wanted was my expertise. My arcane knowledge. But what they wanted most was help figuring out how to control the Illudin. It was a privilege.”

  “You bastard,” said Caellix levelly. “I always knew you were a piece of shit, but for you to turn on us like this-”

  “Turn on you?” Morton almost laughed. “People like you have led us into a war we cannot possibly win. You would have us fight to the last man, and for what? I am trying to save us, all of us. You are all fools.”

  “You want us all to surrender to the Ferine, and we’re the fools?” asked Serrel.

  “Do you idiots have any idea what this is?” Morton said in agitation. “This isn’t a weapon. It is a gateway to unlimited power. With this, we can do anything. All your petty wars and squabbles are irrelevant now that we have an Illudin in our grasp.”

  “Correction,” said Caellix. “In my grasp.”

  “Please. You aren’t worthy.”

  Caellix looked about in amusement. “Did he really just say that?”

  “He really did,” replied Victor.

  “Well, Morton. These unworthy hands are the ones currently in possession of your precious crystal. And you know what? Wait until you see what I am going to do with it.”

  She turned back to Dhulrael. “Elf? You’re running out of time.”

  “Patience, Sergeant,” said Dhulrael. He squatted by the base of the Illudin, and pointed to three broad metal rings that encircled the bottom of the crystal. Each ring was covered with a row of elvish runes. “I believe these are how you control it. The rings turn and instruct the Illudin on what to do. Off and on, rate of flow, that sort of thing.”

  “So can you turn it off?”

  “I believe I can,” said Dhulrael with confidence that didn’t match his expression.

  “You’re going to-” started Morton.

  Annabella slapped him across the head. “Unless you’re planning to help, shut your mouth.”

  Dhulrael very slowly reached out, and with extreme reluctance, gently placed his hands on the topmost ring. There were no sparks, and he did not catch on fire. Emboldened, he tentatively gave the ring a turn to the left. It was slightly stiff, and he was afraid of forcing it too much and causing any damage that would accidentally set the Illudin off and obliterate everyone in the vicinity.

  But the ring turned into a new position with a faint click, and no one died. Dhulrael let out a pent up breath, and turned it further. Then he turned the second and third rings into the position he wanted. When the last symbol aligned, the inner light of the Illudin stopped pulsing, and stayed steady.

  “I believe that has stopped it from siphoning energy from the ether,” Dhulrael explained.

  “Can I smash it now?” asked Dogbreath.

  “Not yet. First we must empty it of all its stored energy. Then, and only then, can you safely, ahem, smash it.”

  “Heheh.” Dogbreath hefted his axe in anticipation.

  “You cannot be serious,” fumed Morton. “You’re an elf! Your kind created the Illudin, how can you stand there and even contemplate destroying it?”

  “Because my kind also went to a great deal of trouble to ensure that they remained hidden, you idiot!” snapped Dhulrael with uncharacteristic venom. He exhaled sharply. In a calmer voice he addressed the others. “Now, I am not entirely sure how to make the Illudin safely discharge its energy on its own. However, from what we have seen, it appears likely that we can tap into the Illudin’s supply and discharge the energy ourselves. I will need anyone who can weave.”

  Serrel, Mouse, Victor and Annabella stepped tentatively towards the Illudin.

  “I’ll sit this one out,” said Jurgen. “In case you all die.”

  “Thanks, Captain,” said Annabella sardonically. “It’s good to know you have our backs.”

  “If you die, then at least one of us should be able to continue the mission,” Jurgen replied coldly.

  “Uh, what are the chances of us dying exactly?” asked Serrel. “Because I’m not sure how many of you saw that mage, but he didn’t look too good at the end.”

  “I am quite certain this poses little risk,” said Dhulrael, with very little confidence.

  “What do we do?”

  “All you need to do is lay your hands on the Illudin’s surface, and concentrate. You need to form a link with it, with which you can draw out its energy. I fear this will be remarkably simple. More importantly, you must try and limit the amount of energy you absorb. If you take too much, you run the risk of flooding yourself with ether energy, and you may cause your physical body to prematurely sublimate into the ether.”

  “Do what into the ether?” asked Victor.

  “Turn into pure energy and explode,” clarified Serrel. “I think that’s what happened to the mage. It looked painful.”

  “On the contrary,” explained Dhulrael. “Since every tiny cell of your body is being reduced to its component particles, you would no longer have a body left to feel pain.”

  “That’s lucky,” said Mouse.

  “Sure,” said Victor. “We can all explode into nothing, but at least we won’t have to feel it.”

  “Exactly. Look on the bright side.”

  “So once we connect to the Illudin, and assuming our particles don’t make any sudden breaks for freedom, what do we do?”

  “Weave,” said Dhulrael. “Weave as fast as you can, with as much energy as you can. Do not hold back. You need to drain as much energy as possible. The Illudin will be leaking a prodigious amount into the air as heat and light. You just need to help it along. Obviously I would like to help you myself, but... well, if things do not go according to plan...”

  “You need to survive to think of something else,” finished Victor. “Fine. We get it.”

  Serrel exhaled. “Let’s get this over with. Although, you lot may want to back up a safe distance,” he told the group.

  “How far?” asked Caellix.

  He looked at the Illudin, and thought about the energy the elven mage had carelessly thrown around. “The other side of the Empire would be my suggestion,” he replied. “For now... Let’s say the tree line.”

  “You heard the man. Anyone who doesn’t want to go up in a puff of smoke, fall back to the trees.”

  “Come on, you useless git,” said Dogbreath as he hauled Morton upright. “Try anything and I’ll bite your face off.”

  “How droll,” said Morton. He looked at Serrel. “I knew you were small, Hawthorne. But I had hoped you would have had more sense than this.”

  “Sorry to disappoint,” replied Serrel. “Now, sod off.”

  The group retreated a safe distance back beyond the trees, leaving the four mages standing around the Illudin.

  Annabella sighed. “I swore I wasn’t going to do stuff like this anymore.”

  “You mean siphoning off a near unlimited supply of energy from an ancient and mysterious object that will most likely kill us all?” asked Victor.

  “I meant doing anything at all with the ether,” she replied.
“Nothing good ever comes from this sort of thing.”

  They looked with uncertainty at one another.

  “I’ll go first,” said Serrel resignedly. “If I don’t explode or anything, join in one at a time.”

  With that, he stepped up the Illudin, and gently laid one hand onto its surface. Against all reason, it was ice cold. And within the hard, glassy material he thought he could feel a gentle vibration under his hand. A faint pulse.

  It was hard to describe the sensation that came next in physical terms. He could feel the energy inside the Illudin, lapping at the crystalline walls like a great lake that laps at the walls of a dam. Once it was a river that rushed and crashed, and now it was held still, stationary and stagnant. You merely had to open the sluice gates and the true power could be unleashed. If the dam wall crumbled, and fell, everything before it would be washed away.

  It seemed to Serrel that the walls of this particular dam were frighteningly paper thin for the roiling force that awaited behind them.

  As he probed the energy of the crystal, he swore he could feel something probing back. Tendrils of energy that ebbed inside of him, feeling their way in the space of his being. He had used a lot of energy fighting the mage, and the ether had not yet trickled back into him. The Illudin seemed to be examining the edges of the Hollow, as if noting the space that was there. Space that was vacant and able to receive its own energy.

  Serrel wondered if the Illudin was, in some way, alive.

  He focused on the energy within the Illudin, and its faint tendrils coiling longing around him. He tried to match his aura with the energy, as one did when accepting energy from another mage. The Illudin’s reaction was instantaneous. Like a hole ripped in a dam, the weight of the lake above forcing itself down upon it, the energy exploded into him.

  It was like being struck by lightning, except lightning that turned into liquid when it hit you, and forced itself into your veins, flowing through you, filling even small niche of your body and soul with power. And even that was barely a drop of the vast ocean of energy suddenly pouring from the Illudin. There was no way to control the torrent that roared forth. Perhaps as a safeguard, its creators had ensured that the majority of the energy was discharged into the air as the giant red beam that formed the Aurora Ethereal.

  Serrel was filled in seconds, and felt himself brimming over with energy. Alarmed, he lifted his staff and fired off a long blast of energy, much as the elven mage had done. He saw the other three jump in surprise as the beam rent through the air, causing a crack like thunder. Its light cast a bloody red hue over all the quarry.