The Hollow: At The Edge

by Andrew Day

  Dillaini sniffed again. “This bag that Vharaes had, that your fantastic monster took from you. What was in it?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know, Ma’am.”

  “It didn’t occur to you to look?”

  “I would have, but I had other things on my mind at the time. Ma’am,” he added at the last minute. What was this?

  “Like trying not to go up in flames,” put in Victor.

  “And aren’t we all grateful that you survived so unscathed,” said Dillaini.

  “All of the papers and books he was sorting through might still be in the room we found him in,” remembered Serrel. “The chamber just off the throne room. What’s left of them might still be in there.”

  “We have people looking over it all. It’s a mess in there,” she added accusingly. “Now tell me, what did this Vharaes look like?”

  Serrel told her, “Like an elf. Tall. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Oh, and he had a tattoo on his hand.”

  Dillaini stiffened. “You saw this?”

  “Yes. It was just like...” He paused. “All right, I know I probably shouldn’t admit to knowing this, but it was like the tattoo that the Nightblades use. The one that lets them weave without a staff. Victor has one.”

  He looked to Victor, to get him to show them what he was talking about, but found Victor staring straight at him.

  “The Scar of Redan,” Roth said.

  “He had one of those?” said Grimm, stroking his beard in thought. “Now that is very interesting.”

  “Are you sure about this?” asked Dillaini.

  “Yes, Ma’am. I got a good look while he was trying to set us on fire,” replied Serrel.

  Dillaini stared at him, and not in a way that made him feel that she was going to congratulate him on a job well done.

  “Very well,” she said finally. “Here’s what we’ll do. Neither of you is to discuss anything that was said in here today. Understand?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” they said together.

  “Good. I believe there will be a promotion, as soon as Grimm finalises the paperwork, and you will both be awarded the Silver Imperial Star for services to Her Imperial Majesty. The ceremony will take place when we return to the Empire. My sister will no doubt wish to do the honours.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary, Ma’am,” said Serrel modestly. “We were just doing what we were suppose to do. We were following orders.”

  “This isn’t for your benefit,” Dillaini told him coldly. “But the Legion needs heroes, someone to show them why we fight. So whether you feel deserving or not, you are going to grin and bear it, Caster.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Serrel said quickly.

  “Do not tell anyone about what we’ve discussed,” Dillaini repeated. “Now, you can go be heroes. Tell everyone how proud you are to be commended by the Empress herself. Dismissed.”

  They didn’t need to be told twice. Serrel snapped off a brief salute, and left the room very quickly.

  As soon as the door closed behind them, Serrel turned to Victor. “Wasn’t that-”

  “Not here,” Victor pointed his head at the door.

  Serrel nodded in understanding. They made to walk down the corridor and out of earshot, but Serrel found Dhulrael waiting near his office for his own audience with the generals.

  “Caster Hawthorne!” Dhulrael said happily. “Caster Blackwood! How very good it is to see you both again.”

  “You too, Sir,” said Serrel politely. “How are you?”

  “I am fine. More than fine. Please, you do not have to call me sir. Not after all you have done. I should be calling you that.”

  “I don’t think that would be necessary,” put in Victor.

  “I mean it. If it were not for your actions, who knows what may have happened. You have saved my city, my home, and protected this land from Vharaes forever. Really, truly, I will forever be in your debt.”

  “It’s all right, really,” said Serrel. “We just did what we had to do. So what are you doing now?”

  “Trying to get some semblance of order back into my city. There is much to be rebuilt, and trade must be restarted. Thanks to the Legion, I will not be short of manpower.”

  Serrel looked back at the door to the office. “Can I talk to you about something? Somewhere private?”

  “Of course. This way.”

  Dhulrael led them to a quiet corner of the fortress.

  “There’s something I think I should tell you,” Serrel started, realising he was technically disobeying an order.

  “What is it?”

  Serrel told him about Narak, and about what it had said, and what it had done. Dhulrael listened with increasing amazement.

  “This is the creature that was responsible for all our hardships?” said Dhulrael.

  “Any ideas about what it is?”

  “I am afraid not. I have never heard of such a thing.”

  “Whatever it was, it’s dangerous, and we can’t let it wonder around. Otherwise, all this could start all over again. I’m not sure if the generals even believed me.”

  “I do. And I will do whatever is in my power to help the Legion stop this creature.”

  “I just thought you ought to know,” said Serrel. “Uh, but if anyone asks, you didn’t hear it from me.”

  “I shall be discreet. And I did mean it. Anything that you require, anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask.”

  “Thanks, Dhulrael.” He shook the elf’s offered hand. “Take care of yourself.”

  “You as well, Caster. You as well.”

  As they walked out of the fortress, Serrel couldn’t help but notice how silent Victor was. More so than usual.

  “That was weird,” he said conversationally. “I mean, was it just me, or did the General seem less than thrilled about what we told her.”

  “Yes,” said Victor blankly.

  “For a second I thought she seemed almost... angry at us.”

  Victor was silent.

  “What is it?” Serrel asked.

  Victor stopped, wearing an unsure expression. He looked around, as if to check no one was listening to them.

  “That tattoo you said Vharaes had...” he started slowly. “You’re sure about that?”

  “Quite sure...” Serrel said with growing confusion.

  “You’re sure that it looked like mine?”

  “Yes. Didn’t you see it?”

  “I was too busy trying not to get my head cut off, not checking him for distinguishing marks. Listen, Serrel, this is important... I think.”

  Confusion was turning to worry. Victor was never like this. “Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe we should go back to the infirmary-”

  “That tattoo,” Victor interrupted. “It’s called the Scar of Redan. It isn’t an elfish design. It’s Imperial, designed by one of our own assassins.”

  “So? Maybe he-”

  “I told you before, it’s a secret design, Serrel. You can’t just get it out of a book. Especially not in the bloody Faelands.”

  “So how come he had-”

  “Exactly!” Victor’s voice rose in triumph. “There’s no way he should have had that tattoo.”

  “Maybe someone stole it from us,” Serrel said as reasonably as he could. “Maybe someone on our side sold it to them. Who knows?”

  “Maybe,” Victor was unconvinced.

  “Come on, Victor, what is this really about?”

  “I don’t know!” Victor snapped a little too loudly. “There’s something not right about this.”

  “There is a lot wrong with all of this,” said Serrel. “But... Look, we’re just soldiers. This isn’t our responsibility.”

  “Not our responsibility,” echoed Victor. He shook his head. “Something’s going on, Serrel. Are you really just going to go along with it like a good little soldier?”

  That reminded Serrel too much of the conversation he had with Morton.

  “Gods, Victor, you’re talking about the General!” Serrel sna
pped. “The leader of the Legion. So what if she’s up to something? It’s her job, not ours. We just follow orders. Besides, what difference does it make to you? When have you cared about anything? You bring indifference to an art form. Just yesterday you stormed an enemy stronghold just because someone told you to.”

  “And rather a lot happened in the meantime.” Victor forced himself to take a breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look... When I was younger, I use to have a recurring nightmare about falling from the sky. I would fall and fall, and there was nothing but this huge open space all around me and the ground rushing up, and it would scare the living shit out of me. And yesterday on that tower, that nightmare nearly came true. Twice. And now...” He groaned and shook his head.

  Serrel had never seen him look so... defeated.

  “I’ve never been afraid of dying,” Victor said slowly, more discomposed than he had ever been in his life. “You live, you die. You accept that quickly at Blackwood. But out there on the edge of that tower... I just... Gods, I don’t know! I just didn’t want to fall. I didn’t want to die. I was... afraid.” He hesitated. “I was afraid, Serrel.”

  Serrel didn’t know what to say. This was Victor talking. Anyone else, he would have at least patted them on the shoulder and said, “There there.” Normally with Victor, that might have lost you a perfectly good hand.

  “I can’t say that I’m the expert of this,” Serrel said slowly. “But from what I’ve had to go through... Fear is a good thing. It keeps you thinking. It keeps you living. Fear’s kept me alive these last few days.”

  “Why did you come with me then?” Victor asked. “You could have died, going up against Vharaes. If you were afraid...?”

  “I was afraid of what would happen to you, if you went running in there like an idiot without help. I was afraid of what would happen to everyone, our friends, the Hounds, if I didn’t stop Vharaes whilst I had the chance. There was a lot worse to worry about than just dying. Also,” he added. “I was rather pissed off at Vharaes. After everything that happened.”

  Victor sighed and started walking again. “So you were prepared to die for that? To save everyone? Well, that’s the thing, Serrel. What if everyone is in danger in the first place for some stupid reason we don’t even know?”

  “Like I said, there isn’t anything we can do about it. We have to take care of each other, watch each other’s backs, and make sure we all come out of this in one piece. You can do that right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then that’s all that matters. Whatever the reasons, whatever General Dillaini isn’t telling anyone... That doesn’t matter. Staying alive matters.” He paused. “Gods, I’m starting to sound like you.”

  “I noticed. You’ve changed.”

  “I know,” Serrel admitted. “So have you. Speaking of which, good luck with Kaitlin.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And I realise I said I had your back, but there’s no way I’m getting involved with that. You’re on your own.”

  “Well, thanks a lot, Serrel.”

  “I will face down Ferine with you, Victor. But I’m not taking on Kaitlin Astral for you. I’m not that stupid.” He looked at Victor. “What do you think Dillaini’s up to?”

  “I have no idea. I just hope whatever it is, it was worth all this.”

  Grimm stroked his beard in thought.

  “Well, that was quite something,” he said to the generals. “Mysterious flying creatures. Battles to the death. Reminds me of my youth.”

  “Your youth?” said Roth in amusement. “Who did you ever fight to the death, Arch-Magus? Did lunchtimes at the College get that violent?”

  “There was sometimes a scuffle for the last apple cobbler, I will admit. Mmm... Fascinating thought, wasn’t it? That young Hawthorne would see the Scar of Redan on Vharaes. I wonder where he would have picked that up?”

  “Could have been anywhere,” said Roth smoothly. “Perhaps they figured it out all on their own. Vharaes was supposedly quite the wizard in his day.”

  “True. But a wizard, General. The Scar is an assassin’s tool. No decent wizard would be seen dead without a staff-”

  “Grimm,” Dillaini interrupted loudly. “Perhaps you would like to start the paperwork for those promotions? See that Blackwood and Hawthorne get what’s coming to them.”

  “What? Oh. Oh, of course. Promotions to Arch-Caster. They must be proud.”

  “I’m sure they are ecstatic,” said Dillaini. “Don’t let us keep you.”

  Oblivious to her tone, Grimm smiled politely and left.

  Dillaini waited until his footsteps echoed away before exploding.

  “Those idiots!” Dillaini seethed.

  “It wasn’t their fault,” General Roth said reasonably. “They were following orders.”

  “They were damned fools! They nearly ruined everything!”

  “But they didn’t,” Roth tried to placate her. “In fact it worked out all right in the end. They had no idea the man they killed wasn’t Vharaes. And with Stallin dead, there’s no one to argue that Vharaes isn’t gone for good.”

  “So they said,” put in Dillaini. “But do we know for certain what Stallin told them before he died? He could have told them anything. Who he really was. Who he worked for. Those bloody upstarts, disobeying my orders! They’re meant to be in the Legion, Gods damn it, who the hell told them to think?”

  “It would be a fine thing if we made an army of fools, General.”

  “It was simple plan,” fumed Dillaini. “Simple. How the hell could things have gotten so screwed up?”

  “Jadia, will you shut up,” Roth snapped at her.

  She glared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “You are throwing a tantrum like twelve year old who isn’t getting her own way. You’re meant to be the leader of the gods damn Legion. Act like it! We both knew this was a long shot. But I went along with it. I supported your promotion to Arch-General because I believed you actually had a chance of finally getting this idiot country and its overly pragmatic elves to come to heel. But if you’re going to go to pieces the first time something goes wrong, then I am going to have to rethink our positions.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I would. We’re doing this for the Empire, remember? Not your fragile ego. Get over it.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Enter!”

  An aide showed in Dhulrael. The elf smiled tentatively at the two, who glared back.

  “Well, Patrician,” said Dillaini when the door closed again. “You have some explaining to do, traitor.”

  “Me, traitor?” asked Dhulrael, and for first time in days his amiable facade slipped. He glared furiously at the general. “Do you have any idea what I have been through these past few days? My own people turned against me. They killed my friends. They hunted me. Me! Do you have any idea how many times I have nearly been eaten, by Ferine, and by some psychopath calling himself Dogbreath? I mean Dogbreath. What kind of people are you enlisting in the Legion these days?”

  “Stop your whining, Vharaes. They were your people. You were meant to control them. They knew all of your secrets, and you let them take over everything. What would have happened if someone had found out who you really were.”

  “Say that name a little louder will you, Jadia,” Dhulrael snapped angrily. “I think there are a few Legion left who did not hear you!”

  “You had one simple thing to do, Vharaes. Start a rebellion, and have it fail. How hard was that? I gave you money, resources, everything you needed.”

  “Stop using that name. As far as anyone cares, Vharaes is dead. And for the record you also gave me an untrustworthy middleman. You know how long it took me to track down the Ferine? To earn their trust? I finally had them eating from the palm of my hand. Literally! Then along comes your man, Stallin. He played you, Jadia. He had plans of his own. Everything that has happened, can be laid squarely on him.”

  “Impossible,” said Roth. “St
allin was one of our most loyal agents. He lived most of his life in the Empire. I trained him myself, and I personally chose him-”

  “Well you chose wrong, General,” Dhulrael spat. “He turned on us. He turned on you.”

  “Why?”

  “I do not know why. Maybe he let thrill of playing me go to his head. Or maybe he decided he did not want his homeland in the hands of the Empire any more than the Ferine did. Most likely he was made a better offer by another party. This so-called “master”, Narak.”

  “So you did know about it!” Dillaini said victoriously.

  “Do not be stupid, Jadia. I had to hear about from your boy, Hawthorne.”

  “Are you trying to tell me you didn’t involve it?” demanded Dillaini.

  “Why the hell would I involve something like that? Mutants, and flying monsters... As if things were not complicated enough. The Ferine must have told it of our little plot. It invited itself to the party. Perhaps it managed to sway the thinking of your supposedly loyal Stallin.”

  “What do you know of this creature?” asked Dillaini.

  “Nothing. Whatever it is, it is powerful. But on the bright side, it did you a favour when it destroyed Stallin’s body. Now there’s no proof he was not who he claimed to be. Vharaes is dead, and the Legion has its foothold in Elsbareth. Bravo, Jadia, you have everything you ever wanted, whereas I am lucky to escape with just my life.”

  “You had the Illudin in your grasp, Vharaes. Why did you destroy it?”

  “Because your dog Sergeant Caellix would have destroyed it anyway. Either she would have killed us all in the process, or she would have killed me for trying to stop her. I had to maintain my facade. Besides, if it was going to be in anyone’s grasp, it would have been yours, and there was no chance in hell I was going to let you get your hands on it. The Ferine were bad enough but that sort of power being wielded by the likes of you? I would smash it a thousand times before I ever let you have it.”

  Dillaini opened her mouth to retort.

  “Shut up! Both of you,” ordered Roth. “It’s done. And the elf’s right. Better that thing was destroyed than someone else get their hands on it.”

  “Exactly,” said Dhulrael. “We need to focus on the more pressing issue.”