The Hollow: At The Edge (34 page)

“On good terms with the
owner of this room are you?”

“We’re just good
friends.”

“Right.”

Dhulrael found what he
was looking for, and without a sound, the back panel of wardrobe
slid aside to reveal a darkened shaft that dropped down inside the
wall and into the earth. There was a dusty wooden ladder leading
downwards.

At the bottom of the
ladder was a narrow stone tunnel, similar to the smugglers’
tunnels, but perhaps a little less rough shod. More care and
attention had gone into its design, ensuring it had adequate
ventilation, and didn’t fill with water when it rained.

They walked on, Serrel
lighting the way with his staff.

“How exactly are we
going to find Vharaes once we get there?” Serrel asked.

“There are only a few
places I think he might be,” replied Dhulrael.

“And if all else fails,
we’ll ask someone,” added Victor.

“Finding him will be
the easy part,” Dhulrael went on. “Stopping him will be much
harder. Vharaes was a powerful mage when I knew him. He will not go
quietly. I suggest you kill him the first chance you get.”

The venom in his words
took Serrel aback, but he said nothing.

At the end of the
tunnel was a blank stone wall. Dhulrael slid past Serrel and stood
before it. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal the tattoo denoting
him as Patrician, and muttered a long phrase in elvish.

The previously
featureless wall began to glow with green writing as Dhulrael
activated the enchantments. A symbol matching the one on his tattoo
appeared on the wall and flared brightly. Then there were a series
of muffled clicks and thumps as hidden mechanisms unlocked.
Dhulrael pushed the wall, and it swung inwards on oiled hinges.

“Cute,” said Annabella.
“You know, if you elves had put as much effort into guarding the
city as you did into getting your leg over, maybe this whole thing
could have been avoided.”

“Possibly,” Dhulrael
conceded.

Behind the door was a
spiral staircase leading upwards. The door slid closed and locked
again as they ascended the stairs, which led to a narrow walkway
inside the walls of the Vollumir fortress. This led to another
staircase, and then another passage. Serrel lost track of all the
twists and turns they made. They just followed Dhulrael
silently.

Along the way, the elf
suddenly stopped as they made their way through another passage. He
looked thoughtful for a moment, then backtracked to a section of
the wall.

“What is it?” Serrel
whispered.

Dhulrael put a finger
to his lips. Then he pushed one particular brick with his hand. It
turned in place, making a small opening through which torchlight
shone. His peered through carefully and then his eyes went wide. He
gestured for Serrel to take a look.

The peephole was set
high up on the wall of what must have been an old throne room.
Serrel could see a huge expanse of polished marble floor, and at
the far end of the room a very ornate throne upon a raised dais.
There was a group of elves in front of the throne. At least two of
them were clearly Ferine. They all stood in a ring while another
elf spoke to them. Serrel couldn’t hear the words, and wouldn’t
have understood even if he could.

He looked over at
Dhulrael who mouthed,
Vharaes.

Serrel glanced back
though the peephole, taking another look at the elf who had caused
all the death and destruction they’d seen. Then he stepped aside so
the others could see.

Dhulrael mouthed,
Throne room
. The others nodded.

Serrel had one last
look, and saw the group below break up. All the other elves went
off quickly, leaving Vharaes alone. Vharaes strolled casually
across the throne room with his hands behind his back, and
disappeared from view.

They shut the peephole
and hurried onwards. Up another flight of stairs, and along another
passage until Dhulrael stopped them before another blank wall that
he quickly he revealed to be another hidden doorway with the aid of
his tattoo of office. They pushed through and found themselves in a
well furnished bedroom that had recently been ransacked.

Dhulrael sighed.
Apparently it was his room.

“Look at this,” he
commented sadly at the state of his belongs. “That vase was a
present.”

“I’ll buy you a new
one,” snapped Caellix. “What’s the quickest way to the throne
room?”

“I will show you.”

“Blackwood take
point.”

Victor saluted with the
knife in his hand, and gently eased the door open. The hallway
beyond was empty. He crept out, followed by the others. Dhulrael
walked in the middle of their group, between Serrel and Caellix.
Annabella took the rear, knives out.

The corridors of the
fortress were all but empty. Presumably the rest of Vharaes’ forces
had been sent out to fight the Legion, and there was nothing to
hinder them. There were a few faint voices echoing from somewhere
else in the fortress, but otherwise they saw no one.

They went down several
levels, and then crept down one long passage. Victor paused at the
end of the passage, as it intersected another corridor, and peered
around the corner. And then yanked his head back, throwing up a
shield just as a bolt of green energy shot past him.

“Get back!”

Serrel took a couple
steps backwards, and turned around in time to see two Ferine
heading up the corridor behind them. Caellix and Annabella moved to
intercept them. Serrel turned back to help Victor deal with the
mage ahead.

The mage came around
the corner with another Ferine. The Ferine pounced, and went down
with two knives in its chest. The mage was weaving bolts of energy
that Serrel blocked with his shield. He fired back, but the mage
raised her own shield in time. She glared at him, full of hate.

Serrel saw a glint of
metal in Victor’s hand. He lowered his staff and beckoned the mage
with one hand.

“Here I am.” He smiled
at her for extra effect.

She took the opening
and dropped her shield. Before she could get her spell off, Victor
hurled his knife into her chest. The mage gave a cry of surprise,
and fell backwards. As she died, she finally managed to fire off
her spell, but her staff was high, and the energy exploded into the
ceiling. With an almighty crash, a large section of the ceiling,
and the floor of the room above, came plummeting downwards. Serrel
dove out the way as the rubble slammed onto the floor right where
he had been standing. When he looked back, the corridor was filled
with broken wood and masonry where Caellix, Annabella and Dhulrael
had been.

He went to the pile of
rubble and tried to find a way past.

“Sergeant!
Annabella!”

There was coughing, and
someone groaned.

“Keep it down,
Hawthorne,” snapped Caellix. Her face appeared in a small gap
within the pile and glared at him in annoyance.

“Are you all
right?”

“We’re fine. But we
aren’t getting through this way.”

“Hold on. I’ll try to
move some of this-”

“No,” said Victor
shortly, pulling his knives from the Ferine’s body. “No time. We
need to go on.”

“He’s right,” said
Caellix. “We’ll take another route.”

“Listen,” Dhulrael
coughed. “Go left. The throne room is behind the third door on your
right.”

“And, Hawthorne?”
Caellix added. “Watch yourself. I don’t want to break in another
mage. You were hard enough.”

“I will.”

Serrel turned back to
Victor who sighed grimly.

“Just you and me,”
commented Victor.

“What fun. You have any
more of those?” Serrel pointed to Victor’s knives.

“Enough. It only takes
one. Let’s go meet Vharaes.”

Victor led the way.
They followed Dhulrael’s directions and found the door they needed.
It opened up into a short passage that in turn led them into the
throne room through a hidden door on one of the long walls.

The throne room was
empty. The marble floor was remarkably shiny, reflecting the
sunlight that was just clearing the horizon, shining down through
several tall windows arranged high on the wall behind the throne.
Under any other situation, it might have been amusing to be
sneaking into such a place.

Victor pointed across
the hall, to another door that was ajar on the opposite wall.
Serrel nodded in agreement. That was the direction he had seen
Vharaes moving in. They crept across the wide throne room and went
through. This led to another short passage, and another partially
open doorway.

They quietly peeked
through the gap. The room beyond was some sort of war-room,
occupied by a wide, round table and a map of the Faelands that
adorned one wall. There was a second door on the opposing wall to
them. The table was completely covered in papers, books and
scrolls. Sorting through it all was a single elf.

He was tall and dark
haired, clad in expensive blue and black clothes. A curved sword
with a long handle was sheathed at his side. He had his back to
them, and was sorting through the mess slowly and casually, as
though there were not a war raging a not inconsiderable distance
from him. Occasionally he would pick up a page or a scroll, read it
briefly, then carefully slide it into a satchel that sat open
beside him.

Victor looked back at
Serrel. He nodded and mouthed,
Stay here.

Serrel wanted to argue,
but Victor quickly turned back to his target. He pushed the door
open carefully, and slid into the room without a sound, knife in
hand. He was pulling his arm backwards, about to throw, when the
elf spoke.

“That’s close enough,”
he said, not even bothering to look up from his work.

Victor froze, still
poised to throw his knife.

“I wouldn’t,” the elf
advised. “Let’s continue this like... civilised people, shall we.
Your friend can come in. It’s draughty in that corridor.”

Serrel sighed to
himself, and pushed through the door. Victor shot him a dirty look,
which he ignored.

“Please excuse the
mess,” the elf went on. He walked around the table, putting it
between them and himself. He didn’t stop his fastidious sorting as
he went. “I’ve had a lot to do, and not much time to do it in. And
the records in this place are a
joke
. I swear, ever since
they let the Imperials have run of the place, everything’s gone to
rack and ruin,” he added in a jovial tone. He flipped quickly
through a large and old looking tome, found the entry he wanted and
then with a satisfied nod, he ripped out a handful of pages and put
them in his bag.

Finally he looked up
and smiled. “Sorry, where are my manners? I am Vharaes, Prince of
Elsbareth and true heir to the throne. And who might you be?”

Serrel stared,
realising he was finally face to face with cause of pretty much
every horrible thing he had experienced that week. He found himself
surprisingly underwhelmed.

He exchanged a glance
with Victor out of the corner of his eye. Victor shrugged.

“I’m Victor, that’s
Serrel,” Victor said simply.

“A pleasure,” said
Vharaes. “So... have you come to kill me?”

“Yes,” said Victor.

“Not unless you make
us,” Serrel put in carefully.

“Probably even if you
don’t,” added Victor.

“You aren’t
helping.”

“I try to be
honest.”

Serrel resisted the
urge to roll his eyes. “This doesn’t have to get ugly,” he told
Vharaes, thinking how lame that sounded.

Vharaes just chuckled.
“Is the Empress really sending boys to do her dirty work for her
now?”

“I’m not a boy,” Victor
said calmly.

“Of course you are. A
little boy who thinks he can play assassin. I didn’t think anyone
would get in this quickly though, so well done. Gold stars all
around. Lucky for you two, I don’t kill children. Now, if you don’t
mind, I’ll be on my way.” He looped the satchel over his shoulder
and smiled at them. “It has been a pleasure.”

This time, Serrel did
roll his eyes. “The city is surrounded. The Legion know about all
the escape tunnels. You can’t get away. It’s over. Why don’t you
just surrender and save us all a lot of trouble?”

“Why?” Vharaes asked in
amusement. “Everything is going according to plan. Apart from you
two showing up at least. Again, well done. Perhaps there will be
medals in it for you. But I don’t think I should stand around
waiting for the real soldiers to turn up. Take care now.”

With that Vharaes
turned, and walked to the door as if he had not a care in the
world.

Victor’s arm came up,
it’s movement a blur. Even as he threw the dagger, he was already
moving. Running forwards and leaping onto the table.

Vharaes spun and pulled
out his sword in a single graceful motion. The sword in his right
hand swatted the dagger from the air, as his left hand came around
and let loose a stream of ether energy at the two mages.

They threw up their
shields without thinking. The blast of energy crackled through the
air like lightning, glanced off Victor and cast him aside while he
was still in mid air, then struck Serrel straight on.

Vharaes was weaving
without a staff, and with incredible skill too. Serrel had proved
he was good at magical shields, but the energy pounding into him
was nearly overwhelming. It was like trying to hold back the
oncoming tide with a buckler. He could feel his boots sliding
backwards across the smooth marbled floor from the force of the
onslaught. He forced more of his energy into his shield to
strengthen it, and managed to slide to a halt.

Victor hit the floor,
and rebounded like he was on a spring. He charged at Vharaes,
pulling off his sword in mid-stride, and attacked with a flurry of
blows.

Vharaes was unfazed. He
parried Victor’s attacks with his sword in one hand, and managed to
maintain his spell on Serrel with the other. For a few amazing
seconds, he held them both off without breaking a sweat, or
dropping the smirk from his face. Then Victor found an opening, and
cast a plume of fire into his face.