The Hollow: At The Edge (35 page)

Vharaes dropped the
energy stream he was weaving at Serrel, and threw up his own shield
in time to stop himself losing his eyebrows. Victor pushed ahead
with his sudden advantage and continued his attack.

When the force pushing
him backwards suddenly disappeared, Serrel stumbled forwards and
almost landed on his face. He managed to regain his balance, and
turned the sudden momentum into a charge. He ran into the fray, and
when he was sure Victor was clear, he fired a burst of energy at
Vharaes.

In one perfect movement
Vharaes threw up another shield to block Serrel’s spell, turned
aside a blow from Victor’s sword that would have opened his throat,
fired a blast of energy at Serrel, ducked another blow from Victor,
then launched himself with inhuman agility over the table. He
twisted through the air and landed on his feet facing his opponents
on the other side of the table.

“This was fun,” he told
them sheathing his sword. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

As Victor took a step
towards him, Vharaes weaved a spell at the table. Serrel managed to
get a look at his palm, and saw Vharaes had a tattoo identical to
the one Victor had on his own palm, just before a wave of force
lifted the heavy table off the floor and flipped it onto them.

Serrel threw up a
powerful shield that caught table just as it was about to hit them,
then cast a wave of force that hurled it back towards Vhaeras.
Vharaes fired back his own spell at the table, and the force struck
it in such a way that it blew violently in half. Chunks of wood and
splinters exploded through the room, raining down around them and
bouncing off the shield Victor threw up. In the confusion, Vharaes
turned and fled through the door from which Serrel and Victor had
entered.

Victor wiped blood from
a cut to his face. “Come on!” he yelled back at Serrel, not even
pausing to see if he was being followed as he charged after the
elf. Serrel didn’t even have time to pause for breath as he ran
after them.

They pursued Vharaes
across the throne room, and saw him disappear through a hidden door
located behind the throne itself. Victor kicked the door open and
dove through, Serrel right behind him.

They ran through the
fortress, guided by the sounds of their target’s footsteps ahead of
them. Despite winding corridors, and intersecting paths, Victor
managed to stay on on Vharaes’ trail. He was a hunter, locked onto
his quarry’s scent, and he wasn’t going to let go. Serrel would
have been impressed, if he had even a moment to stop and think.
Instead he just ran.

Corridors led to
stairs, which led upwards to other corridors, and then more stairs
again, until they finally spotted the doorway, Vharaes standing
within, silhouetted against bright sunlight. The elf raised his
left hand, and suddenly the corridor they were in was filled with
fire. Victor pulled up his hood and simply ran straight through it,
Serrel following with reluctance behind him, trying to shield them
both as best he could.

Victor burst through
the doorway at full speed, and came to a halt so suddenly Serrel
nearly ran into him.

“Shit, shit, shit!”
Victor swore, stumbling off balance. In front of him was a sheer
drop straight down.

Serrel grabbed the back
of his coat and yanked Victor back to solid ground. Victor took a
deep breath. For the first time since Serrel had met him, he
appeared pale and unsettled.

“Are you all right?”
Serrel asked.

“Yes. I think.
Thanks.”

They peered over the
edge cautiously. Below them, far, far below them, was the fortress
keep. They were currently on the side of the huge tower that jutted
from the fortress and into the sky. To their left a narrow
staircase wound around the outside of the tower, leading upwards to
the roof. There was no guard rail, and on one side of the stairs
there was nothing but open air and a long drop to a messy end.

“Let’s go,” Serrel said
with very little enthusiasm.

Victor made a face.
“This is probably a bad time to mention this, but I really don’t
like heights.”

“You?
You
are
afraid of heights?” Despite the situation they were in, Serrel
allowed himself a moment of sheer disbelief. “I didn’t think you
were afraid of anything.”

“I didn’t say afraid,”
Victor clarified forcefully. “I said I didn’t like them. There’s a
difference.”

“Of course. Do you need
me to hold your hand?”

“Shut up.”

Victor led them
upwards, eyes locked steadfastly ahead, his shoulder pressed
against the solid stone wall on his left. Serrel would have found
the whole thing immensely funny under normal circumstances.

The roof of the tower
was completely flat, designed for whatever it was that elves liked
to do high up in the sky. There were again no barricades to prevent
anyone from plummeting to their death due to any unforeseen
incidents that might take place. Like a sword fight/magical duel
with a deranged elven warlord. Serrel considered that extremely
sloppy planning.

When they stepped onto
the roof, Vharaes was standing in the center, eyes searching the
brightening sky frantically. He spun in quick circles, but couldn’t
find whatever it was he was looking for.

Finally he turned and
faced them, exhaling sharply through his nose in irritation.

“Honestly,” he said in
disappointment. “You can’t rely on anyone these days.”

“Pick better friends,”
Victor replied. He and Serrel split up and began to circle around
the elf from opposite sides.

“I don’t suppose we
could hold this off for, say, another five minutes or so?” Vharaes
asked hopefully.

Victor spun the sword
in his hand meaningfully.

“I guess not,” Vharaes
sighed, and looked at them with seriousness this time. “It doesn’t
have to be like this.”

“Give up then,” Serrel
told him.

“I’m sure that will
turn out
so
well for me. You have no idea what you’ve walked
into. I won’t even make it to trial. I will executed as an example,
just for trying to reclaim my home. So, thank you, but no. I would
rather die free.”

“How is anything that
has happened, any of it at all, worth dying for?”

“You wouldn’t
understand. It is the difference between falling, or choosing to
leap. It is about even having the choice. Look,” he tried another
tact. “You’ve won. My forces are destroyed, and my grand evil
scheme undone. What difference does it make if you have me or
not?”

“A big one,” said
Victor. “It’s the difference between a lot of people living, and a
lot of people dying.”

“So... you’re going to
kill me, to save everyone else?” Vharaes mulled that over. “Funny,
but when I do that, I get called a criminal. Do you two idiots even
know what any of this was about? Why I had to do all the things
that I’ve done? Do you even
care
?”

“No,” said Victor
flatly.

“So many people have
died,” said Serrel. “Good people. Because of
you
. And if we
let you go, even more will more will die. I don’t want that on my
hands.”

“Your Empire took my
home. Took my lands. You’re slowly but surely destroying my people.
You are the invaders here. You are the criminals. I’m merely
fighting for what’s mine.”

“Listen,” said Victor,
and now there was a clear hint of annoyance in his voice. “I’m
tired. You’ve tried to set me on fire and made me climb the world’s
dumbest stairway. I am not in a happy place right now. And even if
I was, I still wouldn’t give a damn about your reasons. They don’t
matter. The bodies being piled up on either side, that matters. So
you can either surrender to us right now, or you can die right now.
Either way, just shut the hell up.”

The elf rolled his
eyes. “Fine. Be like that.”

Victor charged him as
Serrel started weaving. Vharaes was faster, his shield blocking
Serrel’s spell dead in its tracks as his sword came up to face
Victor.

The battle wasn’t long,
but it seemed to Serrel to last hours. All he could do was hang
back at a safe distance, throwing spell after spell at Vharaes
whenever he saw an opening, shielding himself from any attacks. But
the elf was impossible, dancing across the rooftop, weaving the
ether around him even as he fended off Victor’s attacks. The two
combatants slashed and stabbed at one another fiercely, their
swords flashing in the sunlight, metal shrieking against metal, as
fire, lightning and burst of energy as bright as the sun were
thrown back and forth through the air.

Even two against one,
Vharaes held his own. His blade cut Victor more times than Serrel
could count, while Victor had not made even a scratch on the elf.
And Serrel was reaching his limit. He had spent days weaving,
running to and from danger, on bad food and little sleep. He could
feel the Hollow rising up to meet him as he weaved faster and more
frantically than ever before. But to no avail. Vharaes was not
slowing. He barely even out of breath.

At least he had stopped
smiling, though.

Then Victor faltered,
his fatigue caught up with him, and Vharaes seized his chance. He
blocked Victor’s strike, and forced his blade high. Then he lashed
out with his free hand, the palm of his left hand barely touching
the boy’s chest.

Serrel couldn’t act.
They were too close together to put up a shield, and he didn’t want
a spell to hit Victor. But it didn’t matter. Vharaes’ spell hit
Victor in the chest so hard, Serrel heard his ribs crack from the
other side of the tower. It lifted him off his feet and threw him
backwards through the air, his sword flung from his hand. He hit
the ground hard and slid across the smooth stone surface, right
over the edge of the roof, and out of sight.

For a second, Serrel
couldn’t move. He just stared in shock at the place where his
friend had vanished from sight, and fallen.

Vharaes closed his eyes
and took a breath. Then he straightened, and faced Serrel.

“Last chance, boy. Turn
around and walk away.”

Serrel swallowed, not
even bothering to pretend he wasn’t scared out of his mind. “I
can’t,” he replied.

“This isn’t your
fight,” Vharaes said sadly.

“I took the bronze.”
Even to Serrel, that sounded lame. But it was true. He’d taken the
Legion bronze. He’d taken an oath. Maybe for the dumbest reasons
possible, but he had done it. He had to accept it, this
was
his responsibility. There was no one else here.

And he didn’t run. Not
anymore.

“So?” Vharaes said.
“It’s just a coin.”

“How many people have
died?” Serrel asked him. “I can’t let you get away.”

“You can’t stop me.
Whether you live or die, it changes nothing.”

Serrel sighed. “I have
to try.”

Vharaes shook his head.
“Very well, then.”

His hand rose, and then
there was fire, burning everywhere. Serrel barely cast his shield
in time, and then the inferno was upon him. He couldn’t see
anything in any direction, only flames, slowly changing colour as
Vharaes made them hotter and hotter. Red flame became yellow, which
turned blue, which brightened into a blinding white. The stones of
the tower roof blackened and cracked. A few simply exploded, chunks
of flying rock crashing into the shield. Serrel pushed everything
he had into the barrier, pumped more and more energy into it, until
his vision began to blur, and finally fade.

Then without warning,
the flames vanished. All around him, the rooftop was black and
smoking. And standing right in front of him was Vharaes, his sword
pointed at his throat.

Serrel didn’t drop his
shield, even though he was all but spent. It was all he could do
not to fall over.

Vharaes regarded him
with interest. “You’re more powerful than I gave you credit for,
boy. What did you say your name was again?”

Serrel stared him
straight in the eye. “Serrel Hawthorne.”

“Really?” Vharaes
raised an eyebrow. “Serrel. That’s a weird name. Well, Serrel
Hawthorne, I am impressed. You wouldn’t happen to have any elven
blood in you?”

“Not that I’m aware
of.”

“Guess you’re just
good. One day, you may even be as good as me. It would be a shame
to kill you. So why don’t you just fall over now, and I’ll be on my
way.”

“Why? I think I’m
getting my second wind.” Serrel’s voice was slurred.

“Cute. But you’re done,
Serrel. I can see it in your eyes. You are about to fall into the
Hollow, and the black abyss will swallow you up. That is a terrible
way to die.”

“The Hollow only kills
you if you let it,” Serrel replied.

“The Hollow takes
everyone in the end. So be it.”

Vharaes’ sword slashed
through the air. When it hit Serrel’s shield, it bounced off, but
the shock sent Serrel staggering back. Vharaes came at him with
fast, lethal swings. Serrel didn’t lower his shield, but made it
smaller, projecting it from the end of his staff so that he could
parry the blows and stay moving.

He didn’t stand a
chance. He had never been that good at close combat. He’d always
put his weaving practice first. Something he’d have to add to the
list of regrets he was compiling.

With a rapid flurry of
blows, Vharaes hammered his shield, then slipped past his defences
and with a single backhanded stroke, cut Serrel’s staff clean in
two.

Serrel felt his staff
shudder, and die. He stood for a moment with a piece of useless
wood in either hand, then shot Vharaes a dark look. “You are such a
bastard.”

Vharaes shrugged, then
kicked him in the gut, hard enough that he stumbled backwards and
fell, his upper body landed halfway over the edge of the tower. As
he gasped for breath, trying hard not to slip backwards and fall to
his death, he looked up to see Vharaes looming over him.