The Hollow: At The Edge (22 page)

“There’s no way we can
sneak in,” Caellix pointed out. “And only two entry points. The
moment we break cover they’ll be all over us.”

“The road will be
guarded,” said Jurgen. “It’ll slow us down if we try that
approach.”

“A distraction
maybe?”

“Anything in mind?”

There was thoughtful
silence.

“Well,” said Holly. “If
we did shoot at the thing...”

“Have you not heard a
single word I have said?” asked Dhulrael in exasperation.

“To be honest, I
sometimes glaze over. You have one of those voices.”

“If you shoot at
it-”

“Quiet,” Caellix hushed
them. “Wells makes an interesting point.”

“
Excuse me
?”

“If that thing is as
fragile as you think it is, then the Ferine will need to protect
it. Nothing will get their attention like some idiot taking a few
shots at it.”

“If nothing else, it’ll
make a few of them piss themselves, heheh,” added Dogbreath.

“If it really is the
force of wanton destruction that we think it is, they’ll be falling
over themselves to protect it. They’ll send out a force hunt down
their attackers.”

“The first thing they
will do is weave a shield over the Illudin,” said Dhulrael. “A
shield empowered by that object will be unbreakable. Especially in
this place. The amount of energy flowing into it at this very
moment must be massive.”

“So we put a shield
over it first,” said Serrel. “Even if we launched an all out
attack, if even one of them gets to that thing before we do, he
could kill us all in a heartbeat. But if I weave my own shield over
it first, I can stop anyone from getting near it.”

“Assuming the link
between the Illudin and a spell caster is a physical one.”

Serrel shook his head.
“Even if they can siphon off energy from that thing, my shields are
two way barriers. Nothing can get in or out. Not even the
ether.”

“The Fresh Meat does
know his shields,” Holly conceded.

“In training, he was
the best at shields,” said Mouse.

Caellix looked at
Jurgen, who shrugged.

“Other than waiting for
nightfall, or running in there head on, we don’t have much option,”
the assassin said. “At the very least, a little magical artillery
might thin out their numbers and even the odds in our favour.”

“All right then,” said
Caellix. “Here’s what we do...”

The leader of the
Ferine camp, oddly enough, was not a Ferine himself. Mostly it was
the weak and the downtrodden who were offered the chance to become
something greater. But the transformation had a way of... dulling
magical talent. He had, once upon a time, been a very talented
mage, the top of all his classes, and could have gone on to greater
things except that he was incredibly outspoken and made clear his
feelings of distrust and hate of the Empire. People did not like
that in modern Elsbareth. It only brought trouble.

In the end the only
person interested in his ability to weave had been a mysterious elf
named Vharaes who had shared the same views as him regarding the
Empire and its domineering ways. And so the mage ended up a
commander of sorts, leader of an army of transmogrified elves who
were, as far as he could tell, only a few steps away from licking
their own genitalia. It was not a perfect arrangement. Most of the
Ferine were about as loyal and susceptible to instruction as the
average stray dog. And the less said about the so-called “master”
the better. The mage had met the creature once, and honestly didn’t
know whether to be disgusted or utterly terrified.

Two things made the
experience bearable. One was the fact that he was in a position to
kill Imperials, and would soon, according to Vharaes, bring the
fight to the shores of the Empire itself. The second was the relic
that Vharaes had entrusted him with. Vharaes and the eternally
unsettling “master” had assured him that the relic was indeed one
of the Illudin of legend. The mage found that somewhat hard to
swallow, until he had connected with the crystal and felt the near
bottomless supply of ether energy within.

The first time he had
drawn from that power source, had let it fill him with energy to
the point of bursting, it had been intoxicating. It was like living
in a desert your whole life, learning to horde and conserve your
water supplies, and then being shown a waterfall. He had wanted to
gorge himself, to drink until he drowned.

Which was something of
a problem, seeing as how, if he was being honest with himself, he
didn’t really know how to use the thing. He knew how to tap into
the energy, but that was like opening the floodgates. Energy poured
out uncontrollably, and you got to taste barely a small mouthful
while the rest poured away in a torrent.

So in hindsight, he
knew attacking the Legion camp had been a bad idea. The first time
he had tapped into the Illudin and had laid waste to the Elsbareth
forces, putting them down like the cringing Imperial loving dogs
they were, that had been on Vharaes’ command. The second time, he
had just not been able to resist temptation when the Legion’s camp
had unexpectedly crossed his path. What, was he supposed to
not
kill Imperials when the chance arose? What sense did
that make?

True, the Legion had
been slightly more prepared than the Elsbareth army had been. And
the Illudin had been somewhat depleted after the first battle, and
had been rather low during the attack. And yes, the mage thought
bitterly, he had maybe, slightly, run away and left a large number
of Ferine under his command to die. To be fair, he was suppose to
protect the Illudin no matter what... And, all right, true, he had
been the one to endanger it in the first place by attacking the
Legion and not delivering it straight away to Vollumir like he had
been supposed to. But he was making things right. He had found the
place to recharge the Illudin. He had even captured and spared the
prisoner, who was, even now, helping the mage to unlock and master
all the secrets of the Illudin. When it was back to full strength,
he would show Vharaes his true potential by destroying the remnant
of the Legion once and for all. That was sure to earn him
forgiveness for past transgressions.

It might even stop the
“master” from doing something incredibly horrendous to him...

And the sooner the
better in the mage’s opinion. He was tired of the constant travel
and even more tired of the Ferine who were poor companions and even
poorer conversationalists. Everything about them disgusted him.
Even now, he could see a group of them sleeping in a big pile by a
camp fire like degenerate animals. It had been something of a
relief when he had found the prisoner. He at least was someone the
mage could talk to, even if he was a human.

The mage stood by the
Illudin in the middle of the quarry. He rarely left it alone for
long, and the pulsating light beating within as it drew up energy
from the ether drew his eye like a moth to a flame. He wanted to
feel that energy again, to feel it streaming through him. To feel
like a god. Then he could have reduced the stinking, uncouth Ferine
around him to ash with a click of his fingers. That would have felt
so good.

He lifted his hand
towards it, not to connect with it, merely to feel the thrum of the
ether pouring inside. To satiate his need for that power until the
moment he could once again tap into its full potential.

Had he been paying
proper attention to his surroundings, he would have felt or at
least sensed on some level, the weaving of the ether not far from
him. When he lifted his hand to the Illudin, and instead found
himself stopped short by an invisible barrier that gave his hand a
green outline, he was momentarily surprised.

Then a huge bolt of
ether energy slammed into the ground, the shockwave sending a group
of Ferine flying skywards. The mage weaved his own shield over
himself as more bolts splashed down all around him, some
dangerously close to the Illudin. The warning Vharaes had given
him, about not damaging the Illudin in anyway, or it would destroy
him, ran around his head as chunks of earth and rocks blown up from
the barrage smashed against the mystery shield around the crystal
and bounced off.

Coming to his senses,
he screamed at the Ferine, “We’re under attack! Get up, you stupid
mutts, we’re under attack!”

He tried to trace the
paths of the falling energy bolts, and saw, high above on the
cliffs overlooking the quarry, two figures with staves.

He pointed. “There! Get
up there and kill them! Hurry! Where the hell are the guards?”

Up on the cliff, Serrel
grunted as his staff vibrated heavily in his hands as fragments of
stone bounced off his shield. His staff had started to become very
twitchy of late. He wondered if he had accidentally damaged it
during the many violent altercations he’d had over the last few
days. Being bitten by a monster probably hadn’t been good for it
afterall.

“That last one was a
little close, Mouse,” he warned.

“Sorry,” said Mouse,
sighting down the length of her staff. She weaved a bolt of energy
so powerful it actually caused her to jerk backwards when she fired
it. It hit the ground on the floor of the quarry, causing Ferine to
scatter, and scattering parts of an unlucky elf all over his
companions.

“You’re burning up
energy too fast,” Serrel commented.

Mouse paused and
considered this. “No,” she decided. “I’m good.” She fired another
bolt downwards, and for the first time since he had met her, Serrel
saw her smile. It was somewhat disconcerting.

Behind him came the
sounds of a struggle. Metal blades clashed briefly, then there was
a gurgling sound, and the thud of a body hitting the ground.

“That’s three,” Victor
commented.

“Are we competing?”
asked Mouse with interest as another Ferine exploded below.

“No, Mouse. I’m just
saying, that was three sentries that came for us.” Victor paused,
then drew a throwing knife and hurled it into the tree line.
Something yelped, and fell over. “Four.”

“There are about to be
more,” said Serrel. “It looks like they’re getting ready to come
up... Mouse, archers!”

Mouse weaved a shield
in front of them, and a barrage of arrows shattered upon the
invisible barrier and dropped back down to the quarry below. Victor
muttered something under his breath, and a ball of fire ignited in
his left hand. He came up besides Serrel and threw the fireball at
the archers below. The magical flames flared and spread out as the
fireball hit the ground, distracting the Ferine rather than causing
any real harm. But the blast of energy Mouse rained down on them
after made sure they were not going to return fire any time
soon.

Victor looked at her.
“You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“I take pride in my
weaving. Don’t you?”

“And you all thought
I
was the creepy one,” Victor said to Serrel darkly.

“Fire on the mage,”
Serrel told Mouse. “Keep him distracted.”

“All right. But if I
get through his barrier, it counts as two.”

“
We aren’t
competing
,” said Victor.

“If you say so. But so
you both know, twelve.”

Boom
.

“Thirteen.”

“The guards from the
road are coming back,” Victor noted, ignoring her.

Serrel saw Ferine
running back from their posts guarding the road into the
quarry.

“That means Jurgen’s
clear,” said Serrel.

“Let’s hope your
sergeant can do her part,” Victor replied. “Or we are going to be
swarmed up here.”

“Fifteen,” said
Mouse.

“Stop counting!”

To get to the top of
the cliffs, the Ferine had to first make it into the forest,
travelling up the steep incline at the quarry’s edge. Mouse fired
on them all the way. And worse for them was what was waiting in the
forest for them.

As the first group of
Ferine made it halfway up the incline, the Hounds appeared from the
tree line and fired down on them with bows. The Ferine were
exposed, slowed too much by the steep slope, and caught without
cover. Their height advantage let the four Hounds fire off several
volleys, decimating their number.

Meanwhile, the
Nightblades and the four soldiers of the Legion followed behind the
Ferine who had been guarding the road, and entered the quarry
almost without resistance, and in the bedlam that Mouse laid down
from the cliff top, managed to take the Ferine still in the camp by
surprise.

Serrel watched Jurgen
make his entrance, and then saw the Hounds fighting on the other
side of the quarry. With the Ferine in disarray, the two groups
made the most of their surprise attack, and pushed ahead, into the
camp.

“All right, Mouse. You
can stop now.”

Mouse paused, staff
raised, and looked mildly disappointed. She fired one last bolt of
energy down into the camp.

“I got the mage,” she
said happily.

“Well done,” said
Victor sardonically. “Let’s get down there. You sure you can keep
up your shield from here, Serrel?”

“I don’t know,” said
Serrel. “It’s easier to weave in this place, but I’m weaving that
shield rather far away from me. We’ll need to stay near the edge so
I have a clear view.”

“All right then. We’ll
keep any Ferine off you. Let’s go.”

Below them on the
quarry floor, the mage groaned and stirred. Mouse’s last attack had
impacted his shield, and his old and worn staff had not taken the
stain. It had snapped, and the force of the blast had blown the
mage to the ground. He stared up, dazed, and saw the three figures
moving along the cliff top. Then he looked at the Illudin, looming
over him, pulsing with energy and locked away behind a shield. So
much power, so close, and he couldn’t touch it.