The Hollow: At The Edge (26 page)

“It doesn’t
matter.”

“No it doesn’t. It’s
gone. And good riddance.”

“You’ll have to seek
your ultimate power elsewhere,” Serrel told him.

“He wants ultimate
power, eh?” said Brant. “There’s a shock. Always had him pegged as
the evil wizard type.”

“Oh, yes,” said Serrel.
“He has plans to move land, or be a mountain, or some kind of
bollocks.”

“Don’t mock me boy,”
said Morton.

“But what you really
meant,” said Serrel. “Was that you wanted to lord over everyone
else, like a god. You aren’t interested in ending war, bringing
peace to man. Bastards like you just like ruling over everyone
else. You’re no different from Vharaes.”

“You don’t know me,
Hawthorne,” Morton snapped.

“And I don’t want to,”
Serrel replied. “I know your type. And I’ve had enough of it, thank
you.”

He turned away.

“Idiots,” Morton
muttered. Then aloud, “There’s another Illudin.”

All eyes in the room
turned on him.

“Come again?” said
Caellix slowly.

“The elves have another
Illudin,” repeated Morton. “I don’t think I was suppose to know,
but I heard them talking about it. It came from the mountains, via
a different route from the first. By now it’s already in
Vollumir.”

“Well, isn’t it nice of
you to finally share,” said Caellix dangerously. “Anything
else?”

“No. I already told
you, you’re all dead. Just like the Legion. If you go to Vollumir,
you’ll join them.”

“The Legion aren’t
dead,” said Victor.

“I saw the Illudin in
action. I saw what it did. You are a fool to think anyone could
escape its power.”

“Well, I know for a
fact at least one person got away.” Victor tapped the surface
counter with his forefinger.

Mouse looked over, and
saw carved in the wood the words,
GREESY TIM WOS ERE.

“Timmy made it,” she
exclaimed happily.

“Yes. And if that
greasy little pillock could survive, then anyone could have.”
Victor stared coldly at Morton.

The door opened again,
letting in a gust of cold air.

“The area around us
looks empty,” said Jurgen. “If we want to wait out the storm, this
looks like the place to do it.”

“We aren’t waiting,”
said Caellix. “We need to get back to the Legion, right now.”

The storm broke over
them as night fell. The rain lashed at the group, but Caellix set a
rapid pace, undaunted by the raging elements against her. Serrel
wasn’t sure how it was she knew what direction to move in, but he
and the others followed without question, though the Nightblades
occasionally threw each other dubious looks.

As the night drew on,
they crested one final hill, and demonstrating an unexpected sense
of melodrama, the rain eased off enough to let them see the trade
city of Vollumir lying before them, lit up only by sporadic
torchlight.

It must have been quite
a spectacular sight during the day, but in the rain swept night,
its tall walls and darkened buildings looked ominous. Looming over
it all was a tall tower that jutted out from the fortress in the
city’s center.

“Welcome home, elf,”
Caellix told Dhulrael.

“I wish I could say it
was a happy occasion,” replied the elf.

“Look,” Annabella
pointed to the fields around the city, where the flames of torches
and campfires could be seen.

“The Legion. What’s
left of it,” said Caellix.

“Looks like we still
have numbers on our side,” noted Brant happily. “Isn’t that
nice?”

“Let’s go before we all
freeze to death.”

They continued down the
road, until they came upon the first sentry post. The two soldiers
on duty looked even more wet and bedraggled than they did.

“Halt, who goes there?”
called one sentry.

“We’re Legion,” Caellix
replied. “We’re from the Hounds.”

“You lot don’t look
like Legion,” said the second.

“What, do you think
we’re Ferine in disguise?” asked Brant.

“Ugly enough to be,”
the soldier replied.

Caellix went up to him,
and got right in his face, faster than he could draw a sword.
“Listen, boy, I have had a long, trying week. I am cold, wet, and
thoroughly pissed off. So why don’t you stop being clever and run
off to whoever is in charge and tell them that Sergeant Caellix has
important information for them. And you’d best make it quick
because if I have to wait, things will become very unpleasant for
you.”

The soldier stared at
her levelly. Without looking away he told his companion, “Run and
get the sergeant.”

“Forget the sergeant,”
said Caellix. “I want an officer. No one below the rank of captain.
Move it, maggot.”

The first soldier ran
off as fast as he could. His companion matched Caellix’s stare.

“If you’re Legion,
where have you been?” he asked.

“Extended scouting
mission.”

“How come I never heard
about it?”

“Why would anyone tell
you anything? You’re clearly an utter moron.”

“You want to watch your
tone. You don’t scare me, dreadlocks.”

Caellix responded to
this by headbutting him in the face, and taking his sword while he
clutched at his broken nose.

“If you were in my
unit, I’d have just killed you,” she told him.

“And I’d have et you,
heheh,” added Dogbreath.

“Now get out of my way,
or I break something else.”

Still holding his nose,
the soldier stepped out of the way, glaring daggers at her. Caellix
dropped his sword in the mud, and pushed past. The others followed
behind her.

“Serves you right,”
Mouse told him as she filed by.

The Legion wasn’t in
quite the same shape as Serrel remembered it. A large number of
supplies had been lost during the attack, including a number of
tents. The new camp was filled with a number of makeshift shelters
hastily erected by soldiers so they could get out of the rain.
Mostly they were just ruined sheets of cloth, held up by whatever
was available, including more than a few spears. All around, wet
men and women huddled around what little cover there was, the
choicest spots being by the few fires that were blazing fiercely
out of the rain.

Soldiers looked over at
the group, but did nothing to hinder their progress. Caellix wove
through the camp, aiming for the largest of the few tents that
remained whole. They were met halfway by the sentry they had met
earlier. Behind him was Captain Snow.

“Sergeant?” said Snow.
“And what time do you call this?”

Caellix sighed in
visible relief. “Captain. It’s good to see you again.”

“You as well, Sergeant.
Although I have half a mind to formally reprimand you. You know I
have never abided tardiness.”

“I did tell you the
mage would slow me down, Sir.”

“To be fair,” Serrel
had to defend himself. “Jumping into the river was the
sergeant’s
idea.”

“The things you get up
to, Caellix,” said Snow with an amused smile. “Come on, let’s get
you all out of the rain.”

He led them to one of
the tents, and held the flap while the group filed in. Inside the
large tent most of the space was taken up by a long table. Dillaini
had apparently taken along her very own table to serve in their
makeshift war room. It had not survived the previous attack
unscathed. At least a quarter of it was missing, the wood around
the missing section black and scorched. A missing leg had been
replaced with an axe handle. But it was dry and warm in the tent,
or at least drier and warmer than outside.

“Go fetch the generals,
there’s a good chap,” Snow told the messenger, who went back out
into the rain. Snow turned back to the group. “Well, looks like
you’ve had an interesting time.”

“You too, from what
I’ve heard,” said Caellix. “How did the Hounds fair?”

Snow sighed. “We lost a
few of our people, Sergeant. I lost a bit of myself as well,” he
held up his heavily bandaged hand. “Two fingers. And I liked those
fingers. They were quite useful. Fortunately, I still kept my ring
finger, or my wife would have murdered me.”

“I’m sorry, Sir...
Holly didn’t make it, either.”

“That’s... unfortunate.
She was a good soldier.”

“We brought her body
with us, along with three others. We should give them a proper
burial.”

“We will. We haven’t
had a chance to properly deal with our casualties.”

“I heard that as well,”
Caellix frowned. “Did the General really order the wounded to be
left behind?”

“I’m afraid so. We
broke what was left of our camp and pursued the Ferine. I think
General Roth may have sent someone back for them, though.”

“When we saw the camp,
there were very few wounded left. Ferine were all over the place.
We had leave a lot of people behind after... Well, it’s a long
story, Sir.”

“Let’s leave it for
when the generals arrive. I see you found Morton at least. We’d
thought he’d died in the attack.”

“No. But going to wish
he had.”

Snow glanced at Morton,
who didn’t meet his gaze, and then at Brant who was still holding a
knife at the man’s back. “Oh. How disappointing.”

The tent flap was
roughly opened, and three more people entered. Arch-General
Dillaini and General Roth were followed in by a older man with a
long white beard clad in sodden green robes. Everything about him
screamed “wizard”.

“This had better be
good, Snow,” said Dillaini impatiently. She sniffed in irritation
as the smell of wet dog hit her nose. She glared down at Vost where
he was sheltering under the table. The dog stared back. “What’s the
meaning of this?”

“General, Ma’am, this
is Sergeant Caellix,” said Snow. “As you know, I sent her out on
mission to find our missing men.”

“That was days ago,”
Dillaini replied casually, as if missing men were of little
importance. “Did she at least find them.”

“They were dead,
Ma’am,” said Caellix.

“Tragic,” Dillaini said
without interest. “Anything else? Because I have...” Her voice
trailed off when she spotted Dhulrael. “Who’s this suppose to
be?”

“General, this Dhulrael
Halvaenas, Patrician of Vollumir,” explained Caellix, in a voice
suggesting her own patience was hanging by a thread. “And now, if
you don’t mind lending me a few moments of your precious time,
Ma’am, there are things you need to know...”

Dillaini listened with
pursed lips as Caellix, along with Dhulrael and Jurgen, explained
the events they had gone through during the last few days. She kept
it concise and to the point, downplaying anything heroic performed
on anyone’s behalf, and trying to keep the recrimination from her
voice when she described events at the old camp.

“So...” Dillaini said
slowly at the end. “You’re trying to tell me you think Vharaes is
using ancient elven relics to attack us, and that he still has one
in the city.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Fascinating,” said the
wizardly man for the first time.

“Bullshit,” said
Dillaini.

A less controlled
person might have frowned, or twitched nervously. Caellix stayed
completely stony faced. “It’s the truth, Ma’am. We saw one of these
things for ourselves, and we destroyed it.”

“We all saw it,
General,” added Jurgen.

“And based on the word
of a confessed traitor, you believe there is another one in the
city. Why hasn’t he used it yet?”

“Maybe he’s waiting for
daylight, or maybe just for us to attack.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for
Elsbareth forces to arrive,” suggested Snow. “The extra
reinforcements sent by the King will arrive tomorrow morning in
time for our assault. Vharaes might want to destroy the Legion in
front of his countrymen, just to show them how powerful he is. It
would be quite the message.”

“Maybe, maybe, maybe,”
parroted Dillaini. “Do you actually know anything for certain?”

“We know the amount of
damage one of these things can do if they turn it on us...
Ma’am
,” said Caellix pointedly.

Dillaini glared at her,
and then at Jurgen. “And you,” she said to Jurgen. “You know, I
don’t recall authorising your Nightblades for any missions.”

“As you know, General,”
Jurgen replied with a smile. “My Nightblades and I often take
orders directly from the Empress and her inner council.”

“So my sister has sent
you on a mission. And there I was thinking I was supposed to be in
command of the Legion. Am I allowed to know the details of your
secret mission?”

“Of course. I’m going
to kill Vharaes. But for that, I’ll need him,” Jurgen pointed at
Dhulrael.

Dillaini stiffened, and
stared at the elf. “
Him
?”

“The elf says he can
get us into the city, perhaps even the fortress, but he failed to
elaborate.”

She sniffed.
“Really.”

“Oh, yes,” said
Dhulrael enthusiastically. “I know all of the old tunnels running
into and out of the city. I doubt the Ferine could have found them
all. And most importantly,” he rolled up his sleeve, and showed
them his tattoo of office. “This mark was crafted especially to be
able to open several secret passages into and out of the fortress.
Even if he knew about them, Vharaes would have no way of sealing
them himself.”

“Unless he tortured the
city council,” added Annabella.

“Oh... well, yes, there
is that.”

“General, you give me
the elf and a few men, and not only will I take care of the
Illudin, I will personally deliver you Vharaes’ head,” Jurgen
promised.

“And it just so happens
I have a few good men available, Ma’am,” added Snow.

Dillaini messaged her
temples. For someone just given an advantage in the upcoming siege
of Vollumir, she did not look particularly happy.

“Let me think about
this,” she said. “Leave your prisoner. We’re going to have a little
talk. You too, elf. The rest of you go... Oh, I don’t care, just
get out.”