The Hollow: At The Edge (8 page)

“Death worms are
vegetarians.”

“Ever fought a death
worm? They’re nasty little bastards.”

Serrel and Caellix
looked at each other in thought.

“Supposed...” Caellix
said slowly.

Serrel nodded. “So you
heard that too? She said there was
supposed
to be an army
here. As though she knew it was going to be here.”

“Maybe... Look,
Dillaini’s young. She’s the youngest General to take command of the
Legion. And the first woman. She just wants to make her mark. She
feels cheated that she didn’t get to have her battle. I can
relate.”

“I suppose so. But
then... why are you so on edge?”

“I’m always on edge.
It’s this calm. After what happened at sea, I was expecting
something... more. We all were. Now we have to wait for the storm
to break.” She looked about her. “I never liked this place. The
Faelands. Half a day and I’m already sick of this place.”

“It looks the same as
home,” said Serrel.

“It does at first. Look
closer. It’s the little things at first. But the deeper we go in,
the more you’ll realise how far from home you are.” She shook her
head. “I’m hungry. Let’s get back to camp.” She put her fingers in
her mouth and whistled. A moment later, her two dogs came bursting
from the shadows. Each of them had a large rabbit in its mouth.

“Good boys.
Ghiegh.
”

Caellix led the way
back to the village.

“Can I ask,
Sergeant...” Serrel started tentatively. “Where are you from?”

“My clan comes from the
Mountains of Dreewan. We hail from the Norwen. Have you heard of
us?”

“Vaguely,” he replied.
He recalled something about barbarians who lived in the mountains,
who resisted the incursion of the Empire into their territories. It
did explain a few things.

“We are people of the
earth,” said Caellix proudly. “Of mountains and snow, forests and
grasslands. We learn from a young age how to become one with our
environment... And
you
clearly never had those lessons.”

“Was I that bad?”

“You stomp around like
a herd of cattle. And that bloody staff. I heard you knock it
against at least three different trees. You may as well have rung a
bell and announced your presence.”

“Sorry, Sergeant.”

“You should leave it
behind. It’s dead weight.”

As attached as he was
to his staff, Serrel found the thought abhorrent. “By that
definition, my arms are dead weight. You want to hack those off and
leave them behind as well?”

“Don’t tempt me, Fresh
Meat.” Caellix paused and faced him. “All right. We’re here in
Faelands, and to my surprise it may be possible that you aren’t as
completely and utterly hopeless as I originally thought. So against
my better judgement, I will try and teach you how to move without
alerting everything in a five mile radius of your position. I am an
impatient teacher, so you had better prove yourself a quick
learner. Clear?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“And just because we’re
getting to know each other better, it doesn’t mean I like you.”

“Perish the thought,
Sergeant.”

“I’m only sharing
because I want you to understand where I’m coming from.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“All right then. Listen
closely...”

Caellix spent the next
hour teaching Serrel the finer points of hunting, where to place
his feet, how to move without being seen, keeping himself downwind
as much as possible. She then made him attempt to sneak up on Holly
and Brant as they patrolled the outskirts of the forest, using
every trick he had just learnt. He got fairly close on his first
attempt, and was almost shot through the head with an arrow by a
rather jumpy Holly when he took her by surprise.

When another unit came
and took over their sentry duty, the Hounds returned to the
Legion’s new camp for lunch. The Legion had taken over Martin’s
Rest, setting up the camp in a wide area around it. The villagers
had been secured in Martinsson’s longhouse, where they awaited
their fate under guard. The rest of the town was being ransacked by
the Legion, under the pretence of searching for evidence. It made
Serrel angry just watching them, and from the looks some of the
other Hounds cast at the working soldiers, they felt the same
way.

They ate several
rabbits that Vost and Ripper had caught, no one being willing to
stomach any more fish, especially the fish that had been taken from
the villager’s stores. Not every soldier was being as honourable.
The smell of fish stew hung over the camp.

Serrel then spent most
of the afternoon helping dig defensive trenches and filling them
with sharpened stakes. If any of the rebels did attack, the Legion
was going to be prepared. The large number of bodies available made
short work of the task. Serrel looked about the camp, but failed to
see anyone else from Pond Scum.

As the afternoon wore
on, the Hounds got ready to travel again. Dillaini was apparently
getting impatient, and wanted to put in a few hours marching before
the sun set. The Hounds were naturally going to be in the lead, but
then Snow was called to a meeting with General Roth. When he
returned, he pulled Caellix aside. Serrel was close enough to
eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Caellix, I have a
little task for you,” said Snow.

“Am I going to like
this task?”

“Don’t you always? That
squad the General sent out to look for those mystery elves was
meant to report back just after noon. They’re overdue.”

“That’s what happens
when you put the Hounds on sentry duty and let amateurs go out
hunting.”

“I know. My feelings
are hurt too. But General Roth is getting edgy, and now he want us
to go and look for them. Be a dear and take a small squad, maybe
five or six all up, and see if you can find any trace of our
wayward brethren.”

“Or what’s left of
them.”

“Indeed. Take Hawthorne
with you.”

Caellix shook her head.
“He’s not ready yet. He’ll just slow us down.”

“He needs to learn the
ropes sooner rather than later.”

“If you insist,
Captain. But I absolve myself of any blame if he gets eaten by
something.”

“All your sins shall be
forgiven. The rest of us will continue on the main road to
Vollumir. The good news is, your squad will be able to move faster
if you cut through the forest. Scout the area, see what’s waiting
for us, then meet the Legion at the Bridge of Kaelthril.
Questions?”

“We have a clearer
picture of what’s supposedly in that forest?”

“I’m afraid not. The
General’s men were a little rough with Martinsson. He’s no longer
in a talking mood.”

“Animals,” Caellix
spat.

Snow didn’t reply. He
just said, “You should get a move on while you have the light. Go
on. Off you trot.”

Caellix nodded. She
rejoined the others where they were gathered around a campfire.

“Hounds, we’ve got
ourselves a job. Brant, Holly, Dogbreath, you’re with me. Fresh
Meat, get your magical shit together. We’re off the leash in five
minutes.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“I’ll go season myself
accordingly,” replied Serrel.

Five minutes later, the
five of them along with Caellix’s dogs stood side by side at the
edge of the forest, staring into the shadowy trees.

“You sure this is where
they went?” Caellix asked Dogbreath.

“Sure. They made a
trail even the Fresh Meat could follow.”

“Did you happen to see
who it was?”

“That sergeant from the
infantry. You know, the pretty one with the hair.”

“Beaumont,” said Holly.
“He’s useless.”

They stood silently for
a moment, then Caellix smiled grimly. “Oh, well. If you lot wanted
a boring life, you shouldn’t have joined the Legion. Dogbreath,
take point. Keep us on Beaumont’s trail. Holly, watch the rear.
Fresh Meat, stick close, at least two paces behind me at all times,
and try not to let everyone in the Faelands know we’re coming this
time.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“Let’s see what’s in
there.”

One by one they slipped
into the darkening forest, and disappeared from sight.

Caellix was right. At
first glance the Faelands did not seem altogether that different
from the lands of the Empire, but that was because Serrel had not
been looking close enough. He began to notice little things at
first, odd flowers and insects, like the strange purple orchids
that slowly turned to regard their passage, and the butterflies
with bizarre patterns on their wings that looked like perfect
recreations of human eyes.

The trees nearest the
coastline were all of the same species that were found in the
Empire, their seeds having been carried across the sea through
various means. But the further the group travelled into the forest
they came across more and more species native to the Faelands.
Trees with purple veins in their leaves, or long wooden tendrils
that reached down into the earth. Trees that were latched on to
other trees with thick, vicious spikes that slowly drained the life
from their host over centuries.

During a pause, whilst
Caellix and Dogbreath attempted to reacquire their targets’ trail,
Serrel spotted a large caterpillar on a low branch. It was brown,
with dark green streaks along its sides, and it was chewing on a
fat hairy spider.

Brant showed him an
ant’s nest he nearly stepped on. The ants themselves were tiny and
red, with thorny spikes on their backs. When they were disturbed,
they swarmed from their nest and began to clump together,
intertwining their legs to form a thick red mass that, to the
Serrel’s surprise began to take on the form of a snarling wolf’s
head.

“Now that’s just
weird,” said Brant, grinning happily.

It got weirder. Not
long after they started off again, Caellix held up a hand and
called them silently to a halt. She squatted on the ground, staring
at something intently.

“Look at that,” she
breathed.

The others gathered
around. There was a print in the soft earth, weathered somewhat,
but still visible. Serrel was no expert of prints, but these
weren’t made by anything he expected to see in the forests back
home. It had a long pad, like that of a wolf, but very elongated,
and only two huge claw prints. The whole thing was the width of
Dogbreath’s head, and with the beard and the shagging mane of hair,
Dogbreath had a big head.

“What made that?” Holly
asked. “Some kind of bird?”

“Birds have three
toes,” whispered Caellix. She found a second print, nearby. The
width of the creatures shoulders was impressive.

Brant opened his
mouth.

“If you say “land
clams”, I will hurt you,” Caellix warned.

“Why would I say that?”
asked Brant innocently.

“That’s the
question.”

“Sergeant Pretty Hair
went that way,” Dogbreath said, pointing north-east.

“This thing went that
way,” Caellis point due east. “More than a day ago. They probably
never saw it.”

“And hopefully neither
will we,” said Holly.

“We probably won’t.
It’s a big forest. Pity,” she said wistfully. “Looks like a hell of
a thing. Oh, well, let’s keep moving.”

The trees were getting
older, and bigger and bigger the deeper they went. Soon they
dwarfed anything that Serrel had ever seen in his life. One tree’s
base was wider than his family’s house. One tree had its branches
grown into the shape of a house, far above their heads. There was
no obvious way up to it, apart from scaling the tree’s thick trunk.
Caellix stared at it for a moment, then decided it was currently
uninhabited and led them silently past.

Unexpectedly, Dogbreath
stopped. He paced back and forth across the ground, then
crouched.

“Shit,” Caellix
hissed.

Serrel gave her a
quizzical look. She held up an arrow. A quick search turned up
more, spilled from someone’s quiver.

“They ran into someone,
or something,” Caellix explained. Her eyes swept across the ground.
“The ground’s torn up.”

“Blood,” Dogbreath
whispered from up ahead. There were splatters of red across the
nearest trees.

“Come on,” Caelix urged
them forwards, her attention focused on the trail before her. “They
increased their pace... being chased, or chasing someone...?”

“Chasing someone,” said
Dogbreath. He showed the others new tracks. Someone barefoot. “They
were bleeding.”

They pushed ahead,
their pace faster.

Dogbreath stopped.
“Ooo, sod, that’s nasty,” he said.

Caellix took in the
scene, the trampled undergrowth, the churned up earth and the
arterial spray across the trunk of one tree.

“Looks like an ambush,”
said Caellix. “The person they were chasing led them here, where he
had friends waiting. They came out of the trees. There was a fight.
Someone went down here... then...”

She fell silent, then
stooped down and picked something off the ground. It was a human
ear.

Serrel looked away
quickly.

“Well, that isn’t
good,” noted Holly. She and Brant both unslung their bows, and
strung an arrow.

“Someone went down,”
Caellix went on. “Then they were hacked to pieces... no. Those are
claw marks...”

Serrel spotted
something in the undergrowth. When he picked it up, he found it was
a small throwing knife. It’s curved blade and handle made it into a
crescent shape. The handle was made of bone. “Look at this,” he
said to others.

Caellix took the knife
from him and frowned. One of her dogs lifted its head and sniffed
it, and bared its teeth.

“Ferine,” Caellix said
in a low voice.

“A what?”

“Feral elves,”
clarified Brant.

“I didn’t think they
still existed,” said Caellix. “And this far south? Gods damn
it!”