The Hollow: At The Edge (29 page)

Jurgen was blank faced.
“Yes, General.”

“Good.
You
may
think you’re answerable only to the Empress and her council, but
here and now, Jurgen, you and your Nightblades are under my
command. I will not have any dissent amongst my officers.”

“You have made your
orders pefectly clear, General, Ma’am,” Jurgen replied, still void
of emotion.

“Do we have any idea of
the enemy’s numbers?” asked Snow, back on subject.

“Yes. There will
obviously be a lot of Ferine,” Dillaini replied unhelpfully.
“Expect the worse. And I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that if
you fail, we will most likely all die.”

“Well then, Ma’am,”
said Snow brightly. “We shall endeavour not to fail.”

“I should hope so. You
all leave in a few hours, I suggest you brief your men and make
preparations. Take whatever equipment and weapons you feel you will
need. Good luck. We’ll be waiting for you.”

Never one for ceremony,
Dillaini turned and left the tent without a fuss. Roth nodded to
the two captains and followed her. Grimm paused to hand Serrel the
crystal shard.

“Here,” he told Serrel.
“The enchantment will work for at least a day. Hopefully you won’t
need longer than that.”

“How do I make it
work?”

“Focus on it with the
word
Ilisolde
. Once you are connected, the crystal will do
the rest. Hold it in your hand, and you will feel a... pull, in the
direction of the Illudin.”

Serrel nodded. “Thank
you, Sir.”

“Try not to break it.
The affects would be rather... hazardous.” Grimm paused. “How old
are you, lad?” he asked.

“Eighteen, Sir,” Serrel
replied politely.

Grimm nodded. This
information seem to make his previous bright and unflappable
demeanour slip. He appeared for a moment somewhat saddened.

“Eighteen,” Grimm
repeated. “They recruit you so young these days. Good luck to you,
lad. May the gods watch over you.” He patted Serrel solemnly on the
shoulder before he left.

Serrel didn’t find that
overly reassuring.

“Ignore him,” said
Jurgen, who had been watching. “The gods don’t care if you live or
die. You’ve survived this long on your own, Hawthorne. Remember
that.”

“I think he was just
being polite, Sir,” said Serrel.

“No, Hawthorne. He
thinks you’re going to die. People should keep those kinds of
platitudes to themselves. It serves no purpose but to make
themselves feel better, and in battle sympathy makes for a weak
shield.”

“Quite,” agreed Snow.
“Perhaps, Captain Jurgen, we can focus on the issue at hand.
Serrel, would you mind terribly escorting Morton to the prison?
Then find sergeant Caellix and have her round up the Hounds.”

“Yes, Sir.” Serrel
approached Morton, who stood stiffly. “Are you going to
behave?”

Morton ignored him, and
without waiting walked ahead of him out of the tent. Serrel
followed irritably behind him.

Jurgen and Snow turned
back to Grimm’s conjured model of Vollumir, which the wizard had
left behind.

“That is rather
clever,” Snow commented. “With the little chimneys and all. How
long do you think it will last?”

“If memory serves,”
started Dhulrael. “The enchantment should start to fade the second
the caster leaves the vicinity. It shouldn’t last-”

The two captains jumped
backwards as the shiny model suddenly collapsed on itself,
splattering liquid mercury about and pooling across the table.

“...very long at all,”
finished Jurgen in annoyance.

“Oops,” said Snow.

The tent flap was
pushed aside, and a smiling bearded face poked through.

“Sorry about that,
lads,” said Grimm. “Forget my head if it wasn’t attached. Don’t
worry, I’ve brought my funnel.”

The camp’s prison was
basically just a small pen lined with sharpened wooden stakes,
guarded by two large, humourless looking soldiers. It had no
protection from the elements, and the ground was wet and muddy.
Morton allowed them to shove him inside and lock the gate behind
him without a word.

Serrel lingered. He
didn’t like Morton, but he didn’t like that General Dillaini had
felt the need to beat him for answers.

“You want anything?”
Serrel asked sympathetically. “Food, or something?”

“I don’t need your
pity,” Morton replied.

Serrel shook his head.
“Fine. Forget I asked. Enjoy your cage.”

He turned and stomped
away.

“Hawthorne!”

Serrel looked back with
a sigh. “
What
?”

“Are you really going
to go off on this foolhardy quest of theirs?”

“You mean, am I going
to do the job I said I would? Yes, I am. I realise that’s an
unusual concept to you...”

“If you destroy the
Illudin,” said Morton. “Then everything you’ve done will have been
for nothing. Everyone who’s died, they would have died for
nothing.”

“They all died because
of that damn Illudin. Because of Vharaes, and his bloody Ferine.
They didn’t die for nothing.”

“You think anything,
anything at all that you’ve done here matters in the slightest? It
doesn’t. You kill the elves, or they kill you, it doesn’t matter
one single jot. The only thing the victor gets is the chance to
walk away and later on start a new war with someone else, and then
this whole pointless affair can start all over again. Nothing
changes. And people like you, Hawthorne, are going to let it
continually happen over and over again because you are content to
be a tiny little cog in a well oiled machine. You don’t aspire to
anything. You would gladly die for the service of the Legion, even
though the only thing the Legion is good for is more death. The
Illudin can change that. There won’t be a need for wars over land
and power. Everyone would have all the power that they needed, and
then some. Everyone, from kings to the lowliest peasant.”

“I may not be as clever
as you,” replied Serrel. “But even I know people like that don’t
share their power, especially not with peasants.”

“But you connected to
the Illudin. You felt the heart of it. You know its true nature. It
was not meant to be hoarded by a single person. The energy would
destroy anyone who tried. It was meant to be shared.”

“I did feel it. But
what I felt was a seething, boiling mass of...” Serrel sought the
words. “I don’t even know. It was power, but it was alive. And it
didn’t care about wars, or kings, or peasants. It didn’t care about
saving people, or killing people. It just wanted to be. To flow
through the world. To fly as the wind, to burn like fire. It didn’t
like being caged. It just wanted to be released, anyway it could
be. It’s dangerous, Morton. It has to be destroyed.”

“To destroy it, is to
destroy our future, Hawthorne.”

Serrel shrugged. “At
least this way we’ll still have a future.”

“A future full of more
bloodshed and death, because when the chance came for someone to
stand and say
no more
, you all just fell in line. You aren’t
saving anyone. You’re damning them.”

Serrel lost his
patience. “Do actually you want anything else, because I have
things to do?”

Morton regarded him
through the wooden stakes lining his prison. “You ever fallen into
the Hollow, Hawthorne?”

“Once.”

“Why did you even
bother to climb out?” Morton asked.

“Because my sergeant
told me to,” Serrel said with another shrug. “Because it was better
than lying there and dying. I don’t know. It was better to be out
of the Hollow than in.”

“I used to be like
you,” said Morton. “Following orders blindly, content in my
mistaken belief that what I fought for actually mattered. And I
could weave, oh yes, I could weave. That feeling, that the world
itself could bend to your command... And then one day, I followed
an order that cut me off from the ether.”

“What do you mean, cut
you off?” Serrel asked in confusion.

“I mean, I did
something I shouldn’t have, because I was following orders, and as
a result, the ether no longer flows into me. I can no longer
receive its energy. What little energy I had left slowly trickled
away on small and insignificant weavings until I had nothing left.
Nothing but the Hollow. You fell into it once? Well, every waking
moment I exist only ever in the Hollow, in the pure empty void
inside that used to hold my spirit. I don’t seek the Elixir because
I am addicted. I just want to feel something, anything, again. I
want to be filled.”

Serrel stared at him.
“The Illudin won’t help you, Morton. It will kill you.”

Morton sighed. “You
haven’t heard a word I have said. Just... Go away. Go be a soldier,
and follow orders. One day, when you’re surrounded by the
destruction of everyone and everything you care about, I hope your
sense of duty gives you warmth. Because it is cold here in the
Hollow, Hawthorne. And it goes on forever.”

The briefing for the
mission was brief and to the point. The Hounds and the Nightblades
stood silently around the table as Snow outlined the plan: Dhulrael
would lead them into the city though one of the old smugglers’
tunnels. They would hopefully come up in the basement of one of
Dhulrael’s acquaintances, one the elf assured everyone could be
trusted. Serrel with the seeking crystal Grimm had given him, would
ensure that they located the Illudin quickly. While the others
dealt with any defenders, Serrel, Victor and Annabella were to
drain the Illudin, and destroy it. Then it was a matter of getting
to the city gates, and ensuring access for the rest of the
Legion.

“Questions?” asked
Snow.

“Why can’t we just
bring the entire Legion in through the tunnels?” asked
Annabella.

“We considered that,
but Dhulrael says the tunnels are too narrow. To get a sizable
force through would take too long, and leave us bottlenecked. A
smaller group should be able to sneak in unnoticed. Don’t worry.
General Dillaini will have other units waiting. When the siege
begins, the tunnels will be secured, and other units will enter the
city to join in the attack.”

“What level of defence
should are we expecting?”

“Considerable.”

“Goody.”

“There will be Ferine
hunters, and most likely mages, as well as those unidentified wolf
creatures that were present at the attack on our camp. They will
not surrender, or give you any mercy. This will be a fight to the
death. But it is important that our mages stay alive. They must
make it to the Illudin in order to deplete its energy. Otherwise,
I’m told the effects of breaking it will be rather...
unpleasant.”

“Ka-
boom
,”
explained Dogbreath.

“Quite. In order to
maximise our chances, Sergeant Caellix has found us an extra mage.
This is Caster Freman...”

“Hello,” said
Mouse.

“She will give us
support while the others deal with the Illudin. Anything else?”

There was silence.

“I know we’ve all been
through a lot,” said Snow. “We’ve lost good friends, and loyal
comrades. But if we are not successful in this, more people will
die. One way or another, this must end tonight. In light of the
nature of this mission, I will not order you to come with me.
Anyone who wishes to leave, you may do so now. No one will hold it
against you.”

“Except me,” said
Caellix.

“Except the sergeant.
But I will understand... Anyone? Dogbreath?”

“And let you have all
the fun, Captain?”

“Patrician? I can’t
guarantee your safety if you choose to lead us in person.”

“Oh, no,” said
Dhulrael. “I am going home, Captain.”

“That’s the spirit,
elf,” said Caellix.

“No one?” asked Snow.
He smiled at the silence. “Well then. We have a few hours. Prepare
your weapons, and let the quartermaster know if you need anything.
Get some rest, because tomorrow is going to be one beautiful
day.”

Serrel met Mouse
outside the tent.

“You know...” he said
tentatively. “You don’t have to come along.”

“I don’t mind,” replied
Mouse.

“I mean, you can stay
here. With the others.”

“You aren’t staying,”
she pointed out.

“My unit’s going.”

“I don’t have a unit
anymore, and no one’s told me where I’m suppose to go. I may as
well try and be useful. Don’t you want me to come?”

“Sure, but... I just
thought you would be here, to look after the others.”

“They’ll be fine,” said
Mouse. “You shouldn’t worry so much.”

“I worry. I can’t help
it. You, and the others... It’s sad, but you’re my friends.
Probably the only friends I have left.”

“That is sad. But
sweet.”

“I don’t want anything
to happen to any of you.”

“I know. But,
Serrel...” Mouse hesitated. “You’re the only friends I have as
well. Kaitlin and Justin can keep each other safe. Timmy and Bull
will be close by. Edgar won’t be anywhere near the fight. But you
and Victor are going to be in the middle of it all. Someone has to
look out for you. Besides,” she added. “Someone has to make sure
Victor comes back. She won’t say it, but if anything happens to
him, Kaitlin is going to be very upset.”

“True.”

“She can be very silly
sometimes. Victor too. You feel like banging their heads
together.”

“What are you, the
group’s matchmaker now?”

“I just think they
could be happy together, if they just got their act together and
admitted it. Kaitlin would be good for him, and Victor, you
wouldn’t always think it, but he can be really nice when he wants
to be. When people were picking on me, back when we were training,
Victor always stood up for me. He broke someone’s arm once.”

Serrel glanced from
Mouse to Victor, who was talking to his fellow Nightblades not far
away. “He broke someone’s arm for picking on you?” he asked in
surprise. “I didn’t think he cared enough.”