The Hollow

Departure

Dev was the only one left standing in a gentle downpour. Nom battled his head upward and watched him run to Ahden, no sign of horsemen visible, fallen or otherwise. He tilted his head back and saw Omega laying on the steps to the smithy. He forced himself into action and turned over to help her. The door to the smithy flew open, and Phylo burst out to help him drag her into the forge. A moment later Dev stumbled inside propping up Ahden. Phylo slammed and barred the door behind them.

The unexpected speed and darkness of the storm meant the workshop was lit only by the glow of the forge on the far side, casting dark shadows on their faces and the metal projects strewn about. Phylo shouted wide-eyed as they propped Omega to a sitting position against the wall, "What were those—those—can I even call them things?!" Omega was still conscious but languid. She watched Nom passively as he pulled her goggles up into place from around her neck.

"The None," Nom answered with a shiver. "Creatures of darklight, perhaps pure darklight itself. But why here? Warping that substantial shouldn't happen so close to the Berm. I won't say it's impossible, just not—I've never seen anything like this storm, in Elocant."

Ahden had his ear to the door, and gripped a hammer in lieu of his sword, which leaned against the wall. Dev layed out their armor, and stripped out of his wet clothes. Nom also spotted Dev's enormous pack and surmised they must have brought all their gear to Phylo for repairs. Hopefully there had been time to complete some. He helped Omega take off her wet outer-garments.

"Is all your gear here?" he asked.

Dev answered "All but our rations and water."

"You'll get what you need from Casey." He eyed the question to Phylo, who nodded and ran off to find her in the complex. "This storm shows up half a day after you arrive? That's not coincidence. I think Omega's effort canceled out the malevolence for now, but this was a great power and will undoubtedly reform. You have to leave as soon as she is able, for the sake of this town."

"I fine," she mumbled, lolling her head.

"Agreed," said Ahden, satisfied that the danger was at bay, and joined the others in changing to dry clothes. "No force has struck at us this way before, or this potently. It's equally no coincidence this happened right after we met you. You're as great a danger to this town."

"I—" He hadn't considered that, but it was true, and tipped the balance in his decision. Nom looked away and wiped water from his eyes, surreptitiously merging it with the rest of the water dripping off him. He said quietly, "My path must lie with yours." He stood and pulled up Omega after himself, setting her on a chair. "I'll rejoin you shortly." He followed Phylo's route into the complex, deviating to visit his own room.

He grabbed his go-bag and packed in a few extra things from his room: his razor kit, extra clothes, a recorder a friend had given him long ago that he played badly every so often. He left the coin purse from Lotham on the dresser, for Phylo and Casey. Everything else necessary was already in the pack, except his cloak. He defiantly left that hanging, took a final look around, then exited.

A moment later he reentered, grabbed his cloak, and closed the door on his way out.

Back in the workshop, he found Casey helping the lads don their armor, Omega standing and redressed. Casey had bought rations, water, and some extra helpings of fresh food. She shot Nom a perturbed scowl, but then seeing his go-bag her face softened to sympathy. "Oh Nōm, I'm so sorry."

"Me too. Seems I couldn't run far enough from the Hollow. Maybe none of us can. Maybe our young friends have the right idea."

"We'll save your room for as long as we can." She started crying, then came over to embrace him.

He hugged her warmly, then held her at arms' length. "There's nothing in there I'll need anymore, but thank you. Find someone who will miss it as much as I already do." She nodded and wiped away her tears before resuming her help with the armor.

There was a clattering in a dark corner of the workshop, and Nom put his hand to his knife hilt before Phylo shouted "Found it!" He came lumbering out followed by his two boys, a sheath in his hand. He crossed the room and held it out to Nom. "I thought you might need it after the events of this morning. But with where I gather you're off to, now I know you'll need it." Nom took the sheath and pulled out a spear tip. He hadn't seen it in years, but it was oiled and sharp. "A rare piece like this deserves care," said Phylo. "I kept it conditioned."

"Thank you, I wouldn't have had time to find it."

"Is that a Rabidian spear?" Ahden came over and asked in wonder. The other youths perked up and looked. "The Rabidians were legendary weaponsmiths, and their spear legions were said to be respected or feared by all. Did you find this when you were there?"

"Aye, some time ago. I was lucky to make it out with this."

"Now give it here," said Phylo, "and your staff. This will only take a minute or two." He motioned with his fingers, palm up. Nom handed it over, and Phylo went back to the forge. His boys stayed and gawked.

Nom went to a weapon rack and pulled off a scabbarded shortsword. "I guarantee you won't be impressed by this." He grinned and pulled out the ugliest looking blade any of them had seen. Their reactions ranged from distaste to humor. The flat of the blade looked pitted, scratched, and scarred. The grip was sweat-stained and a little ragged, and the pommel seemed like a lumpy afterthought. But the blade was straight and tough, the edges honed and dangerous. "Every legendary weapon has a name, so when I forged this I dubbed it the Mule." Nom chuckled, pushed it back in the scabbard and attached it to the side of his pack.

"We should go," said Ahden.

"Coming, coming," cried Phylo. He bustled over carrying the sheathed spear, now cleaned up and attached to Nom's self-styled 'walking stick.'

"Nice to see them reunited. Thank you Phylo." Nom clapped him on the shoulder. Tears welled up in the large man's eyes.

"Of course. Anything. Ahem, anything you need is yours." Phylo swept his arm across the racks of weaponry and armor in the room. Everyone was already armored and packed up, so they all politely declined. "Nōm, a shield to go with your spear, and match these two lads." Phylo picked one up and offered it. "It's not Rabadian, but it's rimmed in steel."

"I'm not legion, Phylo. A two-hand reach will fare me better. And with that, may we all fare well."

Ahden, Dev, and Omega bid their thanks and good byes, then cloaked up and waited outside. Nom gave a final hug to Casey and the boys. He grabbed Phylo's shoulder and neck, who reciprocated, and Nom whispered with their foreheads together, "Stay inside until the storm passes. And then some. I beg your family to leave town, or you may never be able to. But I know you won't. So hold them close, hold the community close, grow the community if you can. Thank you for your friendship."

"Come back soon," is all Phylo could say before choking up. With a final pat the two men parted, and Nom walked into the rain.

The three youths looked to Nom as he stepped out. Ahden stood tall with his greatsword in hand, Dev thumbed the straps of his big shield-covered pack which jutted up a head taller than himself, and Omega stared at, through, or around Nom with her smeared goggles and cinder-stained clothing washing back to white in the rain. He looked back at them, gripped his spear, and pondered their troubles, triumphs, and terrors on the journey ahead. He pulled the hood of his cloak up and it flopped forward a bit too far. He rolled his eyes up in consternation, then headed off down the street, motioning the others to follow.

The ground was black as the sky, and they walked in silence, hearing only the patter of rain, the cinder crunch of their footsteps, and the tapping of sword and spear echoing off the buildings. They saw no-one all the way out of town.