The Hollow: At The Edge

by Andrew Day

  “You know her?” Holly asked.

  “Yes. This is Mouse. I mean, Caster Jilla Freman. We trained together.”

  “We were Pond Scum,” said Mouse, and this time there was just a tiny bit of pride in her voice.

  “You call her, “Mouse”?” said Caellix with amusement.

  “Well, I didn’t come up with the name,” Serrel said defensively.

  “I don’t mind,” said Mouse. “I’ve always been Mouse.”

  “Hey, Fresh Meat,” said Brant. He was standing by the dead and headless creature, and prodded its corpse with his foot. “How come you can’t do that?”

  “Because Kaitlin Astral refused to teach me,” Serrel replied.

  “I bribed her with a pie recipe,” Mouse explained. She turned to the Sergeant. “We should probably move away from here. Others will be coming.”

  “Good idea, Little Mouse that Roared,” said Caellix. “We can head back to the forest, lay low for the time being, then make our way north.”

  “What about other survivors?”

  “I like the sentiment, but you could search all day and never find anyone, and the Ferine are hunting us now. We need to go.”

  Mouse nodded reluctantly.

  “All right. You two,” Caellix turned on Mouse’s companions. “What are your names?”

  “I... I’m Theo,” stammered the first boy. “That’s Snell.”

  Snell looked too terrified to speak.

  “Well, boys, we’re going to make a run for it. You can come with us or stay here. Either way, I suggest you both shut up or the Ferine will be the least of your worries.”

  “Y...Yes, Sergeant.”

  “Good. Everyone stay low and follow me.” She turned around and headed back south west, across the blasted plain. The others followed quickly behind her. Snell hesitated, still overcome with fear, but at the urging of Theo, went after them.

  Caellix led them on a winding path around burnt tents and smouldering defensive barricades. After two days, Serrel had a feel for her movements. When she slowed and crouched low to the ground, he copied her instantly. They darted from crater to crater across the plain while occasionally dark forms shifted in the slowly dissipating smoke haze around them.

  The edge of the forest appeared as a dark wall though the smoke. Serrel didn’t think he would be, but he was glad they would be back in its cover, and not exposed on this blackened, empty battlefield. When he glanced to his left, he found Mouse beside him. Up close he could see her uniform was torn and frayed, and her face streaked with soot. The end of her hair was singed. But she still wore an expression like she was off on a morning run, rather than dashing like hell for safety.

  Then a shrill scream tore through the still air. Serrel and Mouse spun, staves raised. They saw Snell, who had been lagging behind, now on the ground, being dragged away into the smoke fog by something tall and elf shaped. The two of them took a step forwards, intent on going to his aid, when the Ferine sprung out of the smoke all around them.

  “Hounds, blades up! Schteillen!” Caellix yelled. On command, her two dogs bolted from her side and pounced on the nearest Ferine.

  Serrel threw up a shield, blocking three throwing knives hurled at Mouse and himself, while Mouse turned in a half circle and fired off a rapid volley of ether energy so fast and powerful the air cracked like thunder and filled with the smell of ozone. Three elves went down instantly, consumed by blasts of green energy.

  All around, the Hounds fought viciously against the attacking elves. Holly fired arrow after arrow at anything that moved, while Caellix was a blur of dreadlocks and blades, hacking and slashing and killing anything that got too close, an axe in each hand.

  Serrel could barely keep track of anything that was happening. He just weaved as fast as he could, shielding anyone who looked to be in trouble and shooting down any Ferine who got too close. Mouse was laying waste to any elf that was dumb enough to show up in her line of fire, all while wearing a calm, thoughtful expression of someone intent on doing her job right.

  Serrel heard Dhulrael call out, and saw the elf fall down, a Ferine standing behind him with bloody claws moments before it lost its head to Brant’s sword. One of Caellix’s dogs yelped in pain somewhere out of sight. Then Dogbreath yelled out, “Bollocks!” and dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the claws of a wolf/insect creature diving into the fray.

  Serrel lifted his staff and formed a shield that encompassed the monster, just as he had the previous day. He held it prone and defenceless, fighting its feral strength with his own willpower as it struggled to free itself. But doing so left him exposed.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw three more Ferine advancing on him. Then Mouse appeared, and weaved forth a torrent of fire from her staff that engulfed them all. The cloud of flame was so vast and wide that even though the Ferine dove away, they couldn’t escape the inferno. Mouse burnt them to cinders, then cried out as a Ferine throwing knife grazed her arm. She turned, raising her staff and weaving a shield around her as another Ferine came at her, a huge sword of rusty iron and bone in its hand. The blade hammered at Mouse’s shield, hard enough to make the girl cry out. She lost her footing and slipped down on one knee.

  Serrel couldn’t help her without releasing the creature from its ethereal cage. He could see Dogbreath hacking at its head furiously, but the thing still snapped defiantly with bloody, mutilated jaws.

  The Ferine stabbed its sword down at Mouse and snarled. Mouse pushed back with her shield, and gazed up at the elf, utterly unmoved, her face bathed in green light.

  There was a glint of metal, and then the Ferine’s head snapped to the side, a throwing knife embedded in its neck. Its grip on its sword loosened, and Mouse was able to push the weapon aside with her shield. She dispelled the barrier, and slashed her staff at the elf. There was a flash of white flame that blinded anyone looking, and then the elf fell into two neatly cauterised pieces.

  From out of the smoke came two new figures, one tall, and one shorter and more slimmer. They wore black coats similar to the Legion ones, with the hoods pulled up and the bottom half of their faces masked to show only their eyes. The taller figure had a long belt full of throwing knives running diagonally across his chest, and short sword short in his hand, while his smaller companion held a long curved knife in each hand, and spun through the fray cutting everything in its path.

  The first new arrival danced with amazing speed and agility into the fight, slashing and stabbing with his blade, sliding effortlessly around swiping claws and swinging axes. His left arm would snap out quicker than the eye could follow, and a throwing knife would slam into a target with absolute precision. One Ferine hurled its own knife at the man. He simply lifted his left hand up towards it, and slapped the blade aside in mid-air, before throwing his own right between the Ferine’s eyes.

  Serrel caught the flash of green light as the Ferine’s knife had been deflected. He could only gape in amazement. The man had weaved a shield. Without a staff.

  Unexpectedly, the man found himself caught between three Ferine, two before him, and another charging him from behind. He spun, his left arm lashing out to throw two knives at once that tore through the air and struck down both Ferine in mid-stride. As he completed the turn he threw one final blade, cutting into the last Ferine’s leg and causing it to trip and fall. It hit the ground face first and slid painfully along before coming to an end at the end of his sword.

  And Serrel knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there was only one person on the planet who could throw a knife like that.

  The man pulled his hort sword free, and flicked it clean of blood before sliding it back into the sheath on his back. Seeing the battle was coming to a close, the final Ferine falling to a axe blade through the skull, the man went about casually collecting his knives from the bodies of his dead foes.

  “Victor!” Serrel called out.

  The man turned and saw him. He reached up and pulled down his mask, and swept back his hood. He wasn�
�t a man, only a dark haired boy about the same age as Serrel.

  “Serrel,” Victor Blackwood greeted with a smile. “Fancy seeing you here. Oh, hello there, Mouse.”

  “Hello, Victor,” replied Mouse, still completely unflappable.

  Serrel shook his head, and turned back to Dogbreath. “Can you just kill that gods damn thing already?”

  “I’m trying,” complained Dogbreath, still fighting the trapped monster. “The bloody thing doesn’t know when it’s meant to die!”

  Mouse sighed. She walked calmly up to the creature, and shoved the end of her staff into the bloodied mess of its face. There was a loud bang, and a flash of light, followed by the creature’s entire head exploding into a fine red mist.

  Dogbreath stood wide eyed, painted with red droplets from the face down. Mouse just wiped her face on her sleeve and walked away.

  “Done,” she said simply.

  Caellix’s laughter rent through the stunned silence. “Oh, I like her. Why couldn’t I get her in the Hounds?”

  “Excuse me for breathing, Sergeant,” Serrel replied, offended.

  “Get over it, Fresh Meat. Is everyone still alive?”

  “Yes,” replied Brant. “Some of us even have a few extra holes to breath through.” He was squatted by Dhulrael, who groaned.

  “Is it bad?” asked the elf.

  “It’s barely a scratch. We’ll have you patched up in no time, don’t you worry. Don’t know why you didn’t just run away.”

  “You think I got this injury from fighting?” Dhulrael exclaimed. “I was running away!”

  Caellix shook her head in disgust. She turned to give Victor and his companion a long hard stare. “Black clothes. No rank. No insignias. You smell something, Dogbreath?”

  Dogbreath sniffed the air. “Blood. With just a hint of rat shit, Caellix.”

  “Me too. Which can only mean one thing: Nightblades. I’d recognise those knives of yours anywhere, Annabella Kincade. What the hell are you doing here?”

  Victor’s companion pulled off her own hood and mask, revealing a woman with tan skin and long black hair tied in a neat braid. She smiled sweetly at Caellix and replied, “Saving your arse, dear Sergeant.”

  Caellix sniffed. “The day my arse needs saving from the likes of you, Kincade, is the day I deserve to die.”

  “You’re welcome anyway,” said Victor drily.

  Caellix turned her glare onto him. “This one of yours, Fresh Meat?”

  “Yes,” said Serrel. “He trained with Mouse and me.”

  “He was also Pond Scum,” Mouse added helpfully.

  “Do you actually have to tell people that?” Victor asked her with a raised eyebrow.

  “What?” said Mouse innocently. “We were Pond Scum.”

  Victor and Serrel exchanged a glance.

  “Pond Scum,” repeated Caellix. “Wish I’d thought of that.” She turned back to Annabella. “So, Kincade, where are the rest of your lowlifes? Don’t tell me the Killer went and got himself... What was that phrase you lot love so much? Oh, yes. Removed from relevance.”

  “No such luck, Caellix,” said Annabella. “And since you’re still standing, thanks in no small way to the timely arrival of us lowlifes, I shall take you to him.”

  “As much as I would enjoy telling that evil old bastard where to shove it, I have more important people to kill. So if you’ll excuse me...”

  Annabella sighed. “Caellix, please. Stop being so high and mighty for one second, and just hear us out. Trust me, this is important.”

  “Trust an assassin? That’s a big ask, Kincade.” Caellix glanced at Dhulrael, who was being bandaged by Brant, and Mouse whose sleeve was bloody from her knife wound. “I’ll need a few minutes while my people tend to their wounds and catch their breath. You can give me your spiel then. But when we’re ready to go, we’re going.”

  “Good enough for me,” Annabella said happily. She held out her hands towards the forest in an after you gesture. “Shall we, then?”

  Caellix snorted. “One moment.” She turned and whistled loudly. A moment passed, and her dogs didn’t return. She frowned, and shouted, “Vut!”

  On the edge of his hearing, Serrel heard a dog whimpering.

  Caellix’s face went hard. “Oh, no...”

  She broke into a sprint, the others running hard to catch up.

  They found the dogs besides the bodies of two Ferine with their throats ripped out. Vost stood forlornly beside Ripper, who lay on the ground, his body sliced to ribbons, his blood pooling into the black earth. Ripper tried to lift his head at Caellix’s arrival, but dropped it flat with a whimper of pain.

  “Oh, my boy,” Caellix whispered. She shushed Ripper gently as she knelt down beside him. “Shh. It’s all right, boy. Don’t struggle. That’s a good boy, Ripper.”

  Ripper pawed at the ground uselessly. She stroked his head softly with one hand, and pulled a dagger from her boot with the other. “You were good dog, Ripper. The best. Thank you. You can rest now.”

  The dagger moved out of sight, and there was one single thrust. Then Ripper was still.

  There was silence as Caellix slid the dagger back into its sheath, then muttered a small prayer in Norwen Drallic, her own language. She pressed her fingers into her dog’s blood, and gently painted a streak across her forehead. With one deep calming breath, she stood up and looked back at group.

  “I’m sorry, Caellix,” said Annabella sincerely.

  “Somebody scrape up the elf,” Caellix said coldly. “We’re leaving.”

  She pushed past Annabella and stormed away. Dogbreath shrugged, and led the others after her. Only Serrel paused and lingered behind. He looked back at Vost, still standing behind Ripper’s body. The dog glanced up at him once, as if asking for help understanding what had happened.

  “I’m sorry, boy,” Serrel said gently. “But he’s gone. You can’t stay here.”

  Vost whimpered sadly.

  “Come on, boy. Let’s go.”

  With one final glance back, Vost obediently followed Serrel away.

  They followed the mysterious Annabella’s directions to the place where they would find her commanding officer. Caellix walked in silence far ahead of the group. Dhulrael walked slowly, supported by Brant, who regaled him with tales of gory and grotesque injuries he and acquaintances of his had received, all of which, he told the elf, were far more bloody and life threatening than the tiny cat scratches the Ferine had given him. It didn’t take long to make the elf vomit.

  Serrel walked around the puddle, and fell in step besides Mouse, who was staring airily around the forest.

  “It’s pretty here,” she said.

  “Only because there aren’t any giant spiders here,” Serrel replied.

  “Giant spiders?” Mouse asked. “I would have liked to have seen those.”

  “Sure,” said Serrel slowly. “One day. So... If you don’t mind talking about it, what happened last night? Where is everyone?”

  “I don’t really know. I was about to go to sleep when an alarm call went out. We had to form up and prepare for an attack. Everyone was getting into formation, when suddenly there was this beam of red light, shooting up into the sky. Then someone started firing fireballs and huge bolts of ether energy onto us. A lot of them broke right through our shields... Not mine though,” she added as an afterthought. “After that our lines broke, and the elves stormed into camp. I don’t know how long we were fighting. Then the group I was with got cut off, and we tried to take shelter in the woods. But it was dark, and the Ferine were chasing us, and I couldn’t see anything. I could hear them though, hunting for us, and killing people. When they finally found me, I thought I was going to die. I killed as many as I could, but then, I think something hit me on the head. When I woke up, there were bodies everywhere, and the camp was empty apart from Theo and Snell. I was going to look for others, but then you and your group showed. That was lucky, I suppose. I think I like your sergeant.”

  She said all thi
s completely devoid of emotion or feeling. It was the most Serrel had ever heard her say in one sitting.

  He looked at her. “Gods, Mouse. Are you all right?”

  “No,” Mouse said simply. “Oh. You meant, am I physically all right. Well then, yes. My head’s a little sore, and my arm got cut back there, but I managed to stop the bleeding, which has ruined my uniform, unfortunately. I never used to be any good at healing spells. You remember? I never threw up on anyone like Kaitlin did, but I was rather useless. I’ve gotten better over the last few days. I’ve had plenty of practice. Everyone bleeds eventually.”

  Serrel looked at her. “I didn’t mean physically. I meant: are you all right?”

  Mouse was silent. “No. I’m not,” she said. “But what can we do? You know, I used to be scared all the time. But then a giant sea monster ripped apart the boat I was on, and tried to eat me. Then I was in the water, and I nearly drowned. I can’t swim, you know, so there was that. Only three other people got rescued. Everyone else died. So I guess I shouldn’t complain. Then last night... it was like the sky was falling on us, and people were burning, then the elves were killing everyone, and eating them...” She sighed in resignation. “I’m tired. I just don’t have the strength to be scared any more.”

  Serrel didn’t know what to say to that. He settled on, “For what it’s worth, Mouse. I’m very glad to see you again.”

  Mouse gave him a look. “Oh. Well. I’m glad to see you too, Serrel.”

  “And you shouldn’t be afraid anymore. If anything, everyone else should be afraid of you.”

  “Oh. That’s sweet.”

  “I don’t suppose you met anyone else from Pond Scum?”

  Mouse nodded. “I met Kaitlin when we landed on the beach. She said Justin was driving her crazy, but that her new commanding officer was nice. I saw Timmy at our last camp. He was being told off for gambling. I didn’t see Edgar or Bull anywhere, and I just met you and Victor again.”

  “Do you think they’re all all right?”

  Mouse shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope they made it to safety. Even Justin... well, maybe Justin. He could be such an arse.”