The Hollow: At The Edge (36 page)

“You know,” Vharaes
said conversationally. “It is only when you stand at the edge of
the Hollow and stare into the blackness that you can know yourself.
You stand at the edge, and you can leap into the blackness, or you
can fall. Do you understand the difference, Serrel? The choice
between letting yourself die, and taking control of your own
fate?”

Serrel nodded. “I think
I do.”

“You leapt. I think you
can be proud, knowing you died bravely.”

Serrel thought about
that. “Not really.”

He had one arm hanging
down over the edge of the tower. Unexpectedly, something hard and
rounded was pressed against his palm. He closed his hand around
it.

Vharaes shrugged. “No,
I suppose not. Goodbye, Serrel.” He raised his sword.

With every ounce of
strength he had left, Serrel heaved himself up and stabbed the
dagger he had found in his hand straight into Vharaes’ leg. Vharaes
cried out in pain and surprise, and stumbled off balance. In the
brief moment of time he had, Serrel lunged forward and grabbed a
hold of Vharaes, and pulled him to the ground. A hand grasped
around his throat and started to squeeze, as Serrel clamped a hand
over the elf’s mouth.

You didn’t need a staff
to weave the ether, or some fancy tattoo. That just made it easier.
Serrel didn’t think. He just focused all his remaining willpower,
every last iota of energy left in his being, and weaved the ether
into a ball of pure energy in his hand.

There was a loud crack,
then Vharaes’ eyes went wide, just moments before the back of his
head exploded outwards with a gross popping sound. Then the elf
went limp.

Serrel collapsed under
the weight of Vharaes’ body, and dropped down into the Hollow.

He was empty,
completely and utterly voided of everything. The elves called it
the waking abyss, and that was a good name. There was nothing but
never ending blackness inside. Like there was a hole where your
soul should have been.

Nothing but the black
within. No hope, no will to live. Just the long stretch of time to
remember how empty your life truly was. There hardly seemed any
point to even continue breathing. The energy he had held had kept
him going, but without it, what was he? Nothing. He couldn’t do
anything. He couldn’t save anyone.

They were all dead by
now, all his friends. He hadn’t seen Mouse since they had gotten
separated. The rest of Pond Scum had no chance. The Hounds would
have been decimated. And poor Victor. Who would have thought Victor
would have been afraid of heights? And to have fallen to his
death...

Except Victor wasn’t
dead.

No, that’s not right,
he fell off the tower...

No, Victor was on the
stairs, stretching up as far as he could, pushing a knife into
Serrel’s hand as he lay there at the mercy of Vharaes.

Victor was alive.
Serrel could hear him calling his name. He felt a heavy weight
being pushed off him, the sensation so distant.

If Victor was
alive...

He thought of the faces
of his friends, of the people who had depended on him, and he
thought about how the Hollow could only kill you if you let it. If
you chose to lay there in the empty dark and give up.

With what little
strength he had left, Serrel rolled over...

And opened his eyes. He
stared upward at Victor.

“Aren’t you dead?” he
asked stupidly.

“Almost,” replied
Victor. “Let’s just say I’m eternally grateful that whoever
designed this stupid tower put the stairs on the outside. I think I
may have broken my arm, though.”

He was standing
awkwardly, his right arm cradled against his chest.

“Thanks for the knife,”
Serrel said.

“Don’t mention it. I’d
have thrown it myself, but the angle was wrong. Come on, get
up.”

“No, I’m fine here,”
Serrel lay back down. “Just give me a minute.”

Victor slapped him
across the face. “Stop being an idiot and get up!”

“All right, all right!
I’m getting up!”

Serrel let Victor yank
him roughly to his feet, even though it obviously caused him pain.
He stared groggily down at Vharaes.

“Guess you took care of
him then,” noted Victor.

“I guess so,” agreed
Serrel. He realised he probably should have felt something about
the fact that he had just violently killed a man, but... No. He
felt nothing, and in all honesty didn’t think it was worth giving
the elf a moment of pity. He’d brought it on himself.

“Can we go?” asked
Victor. “Preferably someplace lower down.”

“Sure.”

“Hold on one moment.”
Victor winced painfully as he stooped over and picked up Vharaes’
sword.

“What are you doing?”
asked Serrel. “You’re looting now?”

“Did you see what he
did to me? The bastard owes me a sword. Besides, looting is allowed
if it’s from the other side. Come on.”

Serrel paused by the
stairs, then went back to the body.

“Serrel?”

“Well, if you’re taking
the sword...”

He ducked down next to
the body, and took out his knife. Rather than try to pull the
satchel off of Vharaes, he cut the straps and took the bag.

“It might be useful,”
he explained.

Victor opened his mouth
to reply, but fell silent, his face contorting into an expression
of shock. He called out a warning, just as Serrel heard the beating
of wings, and felt the heavy thud as something landed on the roof
of the tower behind him. Judging from the look on Victor’s face, he
didn’t think anything good was about to happen. Very slowly, he
turned around.

And there it was. He
knew without a doubt that this was the creature that had been
spying on them, flying overhead as monsters had attacked them. The
creature that had caused all this trouble, and made the monsters
that had hunted them through the forests.

The thing folded two
pairs of massive wings across its back. Similar to bird’s wings,
except instead of feathers, they were covered in strange elongated
black scales that shimmered with iridescence in the rising sun.
Standing up straight, it towered several heads over him, long arms
ending in three clawed hands unfolding like some giant praying
mantis. A smaller pair of arms unfolded from its mid section,
stretching its stiff joints. It wore a long black robe that covered
everything but the its head and its hands. It’s exposed skin was
pale, and appeared hard and calcified, like exposed bone.

Its head was either
smooth and featureless, or it wore some sort of mask made from
polished white bone. Only its eyes, large and glowing green, devoid
of any iris or pupils, were visible.

But it could still see,
in its own way. It looked straight at Serrel, then down at Vharaes,
and back to him again.

Well done
.

The voice was cold and
featureless, springing straight into his head without making any
real sound.

“Are you... talking to
me?” Serrel asked tentatively.

Yes. He was a not
inconsiderable foe. Your survival speaks much of your ability.

“I had help... Uh...
How
are you talking to me?”

Everything is energy.
Even thought. It is a simple thing to weave such things into the
mind of another, especially if the other is receptive to the ether
as you are.

“You can read my
mind?”

No. I merely project
the thoughts. Minds are too complex to allow me to discern their
processes...

“Who are you?”

“Serrel, what are
doing?” Victor hissed at him.

It occurred to Serrel
that if the creature was telling the truth, then perhaps Victor
wasn’t hearing the entire conversation. He ignored him.

“What are you?” he
asked the creature.

That is...
unimportant. You may call me Narak.

“All right... Narak.
What do you want?”

Many things. But at
this moment, I require that bag.
It held up one long appendage,
and gestured at the satchel in Serrel’s grip.

Serrel glanced down at
the bag, and decided not to be a hero. He held the bag out for
Narak, and let the creature gently take it from him with wickedly
long claws.

Thank you. Might I
also have your name?

He hesitated. But there
hardly seemed much point in being secretive. “Serrel.”

Serrel. It is good to
finally meet you, face to face.

“So you have been
watching me. Watching all of us. You sent all those things to kill
us.”

I sent them to find
you. Whether they killed you or not was up to them.

“You controlled
them.”

No. I did not. I do
not believe in taking over the mind of another creature, thought it
is well within my ability to do so. I believe in freedom of choice,
in being master of one’s own fate. I merely presented my fellow
creatures with an idea. The promise of food, my gratitude for the
services of their hunting skills. I did not drive them, as a man
would drive a horse tied to a cart.

“You tried to kill us.
You sent kraken to destroy the fleet and drown us.”

If I had wanted to
destroy you all, I would have turned you all into ash with single
thought. I lured the kraken to the desired location with but a
single thought: the prospect of food. I warned their prey of the
coming slaughter, so that they ran. They ran to you. But I did not
drive them to attack you, nor to kill. I could have. But I had
thought to warn you, to demonstrate the foolishness of your
actions. But you humans. You are so stubborn.

“Are you telling me you
did all that just to try and prove a point?”

It was preferable to
violence. That would have been an easy choice. I could have killed
you all a dozen times over, Serrel. In fact, I could have let you
fall, and break upon those rocks.

Serrel started at that.
“
You
did it. You saved me. Why?”

I was intrigued. I see
the ether, flowing in and around all things. I see the ripples cast
by those who walk through it, like your companion over there with
the very sharp knife. They are so small as to be almost
inconsequential. But you. Where you walk, the ether twists itself
into a maelstrom. It seethes at at your passing. Such potential
should not be wasted.

“I’ve nearly died...
the gods only know how many times. Are you saying you interfered
then as well?”

Not always. Afterall,
what is potential without the capacity to be used? What is power
without the ability to wield it? I saved you from a single
pointless end, when you lacked the ability to save yourself. But
otherwise, had you not shown the skill and capacity to save
yourself, I would have gladly seen you perish.

“I don’t like being
someone’s puppet,” Serrel told the creature angrily.

Nor I. Which is why I
have kept my distance. I live by the tenants I myself fight
for.

“You worked with him,”
Serrel pointed at Vharaes. “What could possibly be worth that?”

Many important
reasons. Perhaps one day you will understand, if you look hard
enough.

“So are you going to
kill me now?”

Narak cocked its head
in thought.
No,
It told him finally.
I do not think I
will. It would serve no purpose, and I am curious to see what will
become of you. One day, you and I may be of use to each
other.

“I don’t think so.”

Not at the moment. But
you will change your mind. You must know, this war you fight is not
what you think it is.

“What do you mean?”

Just that. Be sure
your battles are the right ones. Be sure you are fighting for what
you believe, or you will surely destroy yourself. In the meantime,
allow me to present you with a parting gift.

The creature gestured
one claw towards him, and Serrel felt a huge spike of energy shoot
straight through him and empty itself into the Hollow inside
him.

Victor saw him shudder,
and not realising what was happening, threw the knife in his hand
at Narak.

The blade flew through
air, and came to a complete stop half a metre from the creature’s
head, floating perfectly still in mid-air. Narak regarded the knife
with interest. It touched the tip of the blade with its claw,
sending it slowly turning end over end without heed of gravity.

Impressive
.
You are all such talented creatures.

Serrel felt the energy
transferred inside him. He hated himself for thinking it, but it
did feel nice to have energy within himself again.

“Thank you, I suppose,”
he said. “So... what now?”

Narak spread its four
arms wide, claws extended. In the air above its claws, a ball of
fire ignited into existence above each hand, one by one.

Perhaps now, you
might consider running,
Narak suggested.

Serrel turned and
fled.

“Victor, run!”

They didn’t bother to
run to the stairs. Instead they ran to the edge of the tower, and
jumped off as behind them Narak raised his arms over his head, and
hurled the fireballs to the ground.

The stairs were
fortunately only a metre or so below them, and the two dropped over
the side of the tower and landed safely, just as the explosion
ripped through the air overhead. Flames and superheated air washed
over them as they ducked against the wall of the tower.

When the roar died
down, Serrel looked up. He heard beating wings, just before Narak
swooped back into view, circling around the tower.

I trust we will see
each other again. Take care, Serrel.

Then the strange
creature turned in the air, and flew off into the east,
disappearing into the glare of the rising sun.

Victor groaned from his
position on some steps lower down from Serrel. “What. The.
Hell?”

“I don’t think you
would believe me if I told you.”

Serrel cautiously rose
to his feet, and climbed back up the stairs. He paused as his head
rose above the level of the tower roof, and surveyed the damage.
The top of the tower was blackened and smoking. All that remained
of Vharaes was black ash, and a few barely identifiable bits of
bone.