The Hollow: At The Edge (12 page)

“Good to hear.”

He stared at her. “Have
I passed your assessment, Sergeant?”

“For now. I will be
keeping an eye on you.”

“I understand. When do
you expect us to arrive at your camp?”

“A day or two, if you
don’t slow us down.”

“I will not. I promise.
But... will we be travelling through the forest?”

“It’s the fastest way.
Why? Are you expecting company?”

“More Ferine?” asked
Serrel.

“We used to think there
were only a few Ferine, living in the deepest parts of the Northern
Forest,” explained Dhulrael. “Then Vharaes appeared with an army of
them. I would think it likely that there are more of them.”

“I don’t suppose you
happen to know how many of them would be roaming around this
forest?” asked Caellix.

“Apart the small group
you fought, I do not know. I am sorry, but I was hooded for the
last few days. I saw very little.”

“Then what did you
hear
?” Caellix insisted.

Dhulrael paused. “Apart
from the horrible things they did to my friends... I thought I
heard a few of them complaining about how they had to wait. That
they were not allowed to hunt. Now that I think about it,” he said
slowly, his expression growing more confused. “They kept me there,
in that camp, for days. I thought they would have taken me back to
Vollumir, but they were waiting for someone else.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know... But I
thought maybe I heard one of them use the phrase
del
sareth
.”

“And that would
be...?”

“It is from an old
dialect,” said Dhulrael slowly. “It means,
the master
.”

Ghoraes prodded the
dead body with the axe stuck in its skull with his foot. A second
Ferine crawled over to it on his hands and knees, sniffing the dead
flesh. He took a bite out of the body’s arm.

Ghoraes kicked him
angrily in the head, the claws on his toes slicing a deep gash on
the underling’s scalp. The other elf barked in surprise, then
backed away.

“We are not
scavengers!” Ghoraes snarled.

He looked about the
raided camp site, his anger slowly simmering. Eight dead Ferine lay
rotting on the forest floor, slowly returning to the earth. The
partially eaten body of a human soldier lay nearby, half covered by
a grubby cloak as a mark of respect.

Only another soldier
would have done that, Ghoraes realised. Fools! He had explicitly
ordered the group to remain unseen, not to go attacking the Legion.
They had other plans for them.

“Where are the
prisoners?” he asked.

“Dead,” said another
Ferine with a submissive bow.

“Idiots! They were
meant to remain alive!”

“Not all dead,” a third
Ferine said quickly. “Only two bodies. The third is gone.”

“Find me their trail!
If that prisoner isn’t back before the Master returns, he’ll return
us all to the earth!”

Do you think to fool
me, elf
?

The new voice that
spoke seemed to echo right inside the elves’ minds. They all
dropped to the floor, one even rolling on his back and exposing his
stomach as a wolf would when submitting to an alpha. In the trees
above, something large shifted in the branches.

Ghoraes pressed his
forehead to the ground. “Master.”

The elf has been taken
by Legion. They move north-west through the forest, to rejoin the
main force of their army. Vharaes requires the Patrician returned
to him, unharmed. He still requires his knowledge.

“I shall run them down,
Master,” Ghoraes said firmly. “There are none that can escape me
once I have their scent.”

I believe you,
Ghoraes. You have served us well. But I have need for you
elsewhere. The second Illudin is being moved to Vollumir. It is
vulnerable. I cannot guard it alone, not without revealing myself
prematurely. You must go north, and ensure the Illudin’s
survival.

“I shall not fail you,
Master. But what of the Legion, and the prisoner.”

I have brought my
childer with me. They will hunt them down.

There was rustling in
the undergrowth. The Ferine all looked up in interest as something
big and alien to the forest sniffed at the ground hunting for a
scent. Ghoraes watched the creature in awe as it found a trace of
its prey, several minute drops of blood, and sped off into the
dying night, several other huge shadows following in its wake.

Ghoraes could only hope
that one day he too would be able to move with such speed and grace
as those frightening creatures.

North, Ghoraes
,
the voice of the Master echoed through his brain.
Protect the
Illudin.

Above the Ferine, there
was the sound of massive wings unfolding, and then with powerful
strokes something unseen leapt into the air and flew off into the
skies.

Serrel awoke from yet
another horrific nightmare as Caellix prodded him roughly in the
side with the toe of her boot.

“Rise and shine, Fresh
Meat,” the sergeant boomed with what Serrel thought was unnecessary
enthusiasm. “Time’s wasting.” Then she went off to kick Dhulrael
awake, with rather less restraint.

When he opened his eyes
he found it was still dark. The patches of sky he could see through
the tree tops were only just starting to brighten. He groaned, and
forced his stiff body upright.

Sleeping on the rough
forest floor had not been a fun experience. He missed his bed in
Fort Amell. At least in the dormitories the only thing he had to
worry about was Justin Tremmel snoring loudly. That night he had
awoken to find something crawling on him with multiple legs. He had
no idea what it had been, and for that matter, wasn’t sure he
wanted to know.

Breakfast was a bleak
affair, with Caellix understandably adamant that there be no fire,
they basically ate the same things as they had the night before.
Serrel’s appetite had still not returned, but he forced himself to
eat the double ration Caellix insistently handed him. The last
strip of meat, though, he fed to Vost, who had a habit of staring
at him expectantly while he ate. The dog took the food from his
hand, and noticeably didn’t take the hand as well, which Serrel
chose to take as a good sign.

The sun was only just
deciding to rise over the horizon when the group set off again.
They moved through the trees as silently as possible, aiming to
draw as little attention to themselves as possible. No one spoke,
and without conversation Serrel’s mind inevitably drove itself back
to all of the things he resolutely did not wish to think about.

He tried to distract
himself by focusing once more on the land around him. Then he
stared at Dhulrael, who was the first elf Serrel had ever met.
Well, the first
normal
elf that Serrel had ever met,
assuming that there even was such a thing. He wasn’t sure exactly
what he had been expecting from an elf, but he supposed that
Dhulrael more or less fit the image, tall and regal. Those eyes
were definitely off putting though, and as friendly as he was, when
Dhulrael looked at you, you couldn’t help but remember that the elf
was far from human.

As the day grew
brighter, it also became apparent that Dhulrael seemed even less
comfortable in the forest than Serrel. Caellix held her tongue, but
occasionally cast impatient glances the elf’s way that made her
thoughts clear. At one point, the elf snagged his sleeve on a low
tree branch, and pulled it free with a loud ripping sound.

He sighed as he
surveyed his ruined appearance. “What I would not give for a change
of clothes.”

“Why? Filthied your
silk underwear have you? Heheh,” said Dogbreath.

“I do not wear silk
underwear, Mister... Breath. But a nice new silk shirt. No, forget
the shirt, a nice, long bath. That is what I need. I have not had
an opportunity to bathe in over a week. I feel so
soiled.”

“Well, by all means,
Lord Dhulrael, let us run you a hot bath right now, shall we?” said
Caellix scathingly. “Holly, put the kettle on.”

“Many pardons,
Sergeant, I was merely voicing my discomfort. I will be quiet now,
if you wish.”

“Yes. I wish.”

The group moved on in
silence.

“A bath would be nice,”
Holly said suddenly, with longing.

“Oh, not you as
well.”

“I haven’t had a decent
wash since Port Serenity. And that was from a rain barrel.”

“But you still smell so
pretty, Wells, heheh.”

“Sod off,
Dogbreath.”

“Not as pretty as Fresh
Meat, of course.”

“Leave me out of it,”
complained Serrel.

“He always smells so
nice,” commented Dogbreath.

“Like morning dew on
rose petals,” added Brant.

“Oh, he does not smell
nicer than I do,” objected Holly.

“Will you lot stop
smelling me?”

Caellix stopped and
glared at them. “Will the gods damn lot of you just
shut the
hell up
?”

“Sorry, Sergeant.”

Caellix continued
walking, quietly seething. Then she sniffed the air loudly. “But
would it kill you to roll in the dirt a little, Fresh Meat?
Honestly...”

“
What the hell did I
do
?”

Not long later, Caellix
paused and cocked her head. “Looks like you might get your wish
afterall, Pointy.”

Serrel listened, and
heard the sound of running water. They came across the small stream
not long after. It was narrow, Serrel could have cross it in a
single step, but the water flowing in it was crystal clear. Caellix
stooped and scooped up a handful. She sniffed it, then tasted
it.

“Seems clean,” she
decided. “Fill your canteens and do whatever you need to do, but
make it quick.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,”
Holly breathed in relief.

They lined the bank and
filled up their canteens and took the opportunity for a quick wash.
Dhulrael stripped down and scrubbed himself thoroughly.

“I do not suppose
anyone has a bar of soap?” the elf asked hopefully.

“Lavender scented or
jasmine?” asked Brant.

“Either would be
fine... Oh, you are being sarcastic.”

“Oh, no. I always carry
flowery scented soap with me. Just in case I get invited to one of
those swanky elf parties full of nubile harem girls.”

“Dream on, Brant,”
Holly splashed him.

“I never get invited to
those parties either,” said Dhulrael.

“They aren’t as fun as
you think,” put in Dogbreath. “The food’s shite.”

“I wouldn’t eat the
food at an elf party,” said Holly. “You never know
who
you’re eating.”

“Now, Corporal, that is
a misconception,” said Dhulrael sternly. “The practice of
cannibalism has been out of favour for decades.”

There was a pause.

“Implying that at some
point, you lot actually did eat each other,” said Serrel.

“We did not just eat
anyone we found wondering the streets. That would have killed us
all off from disease centuries ago. It was simply an old custom.
Rather than burying or cremating our dead sometimes, under specific
circumstances, we would consume the body.”

“Why?” Serrel asked,
trying not to sound too disgusted.

“We are creatures of
the ether, Caster Hawthorne. We believed that when we consumed the
flesh of someone, we absorbed their power into ourselves.”

“So when someone dies,
you all just chow down?” said Holly scathingly.

“Of course not. Only
close family or friends would join in the ceremony, unless the
deceased had specified the desire to be shared amongst the
community.”

“That would have been
some reading of the will,” said Brant. ““I donate my body to the
weekend fry up. Everyone dig in, except the Jones’ from number
three, because they’re a bunch of twats”.”

“Yes. Quite. In some
circumstances, it was expected for everyone to partake. In the old
days, when a king or queen passed away, their body was expected to
be consumed by their heirs and the members of the court, so that
their knowledge and wisdom would be passed on to their
descendants.”

“And does that actually
work?” asked Serrel.

“That is the subject of
much debate.”

“So who have you
eaten?” Holly asked.

Dhulrael paused. “When
I was young, I may have eaten my Grandfather.”

“That must have been a
hell of an awkward family reunion.”

“You have seconds?”
Brant asked, grinning. “Did you get any leftovers?”

“If you are going to
make fun,” Dhulrael said haughtily. “Then I believe this
conversation is over.”

“What? No, of course I
wasn’t making fun. I’m interested.”

“Yeah,” said Dogbreath.
“In fact, when I die, I want you lot to eat me.”

“How do you want to be
cooked?”

“Roasted on a
spit.”

“There is something
very wrong with you,” commented Serrel.

“I like to give. I’m a
giver, heheh.”

“You’d be giving us all
an upset stomach, for one thing.”

“Dogbreath,” said
Caellix. “If it comes down to eating your sorry carcass, I’m sure
we’d sooner gnaw our own legs off first. I wouldn’t even feed you
to my dogs.”

“Your loss,
Caellix.”

“I’d eat you,
Dogbreath,” Brant said, patting the man on the shoulder.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. In fact I’d
like to place an order on your left leg, that’s if no one else
minds?”

“Brant,” Caellix said
slowly. “End this conversation. Right now.”

“Just planning ahead,
Sergeant.” Brant stood up and stretched. “Um, I have to go, uh,
mark my territory. Excuse me.”

“We did not need to
know that, Brant,” Holly told him as he went behind a tree. Then
she muttered a curse under her breath, having unwound the bandage
on her arm and found the wound she had sustained the previous night
had reopened.

“You cleaned that?”
asked Caellix sternly.