Chapter 10 – Long Forgotten
As Pocket opened the door to the first building Hollow drew one of his pistols. He turned around before entering and then followed Pocket. He saw Rage shift his position to a wider stance. Hollow put a finger to his lips, then winked.
Rage made a half grin in response. Hollow turned around and went to the first door in the bland, black-walled corridor. He put his ear to the pane of wood and listened. He heard faint whisperings of a group of people trying to stay silent.
Hollow smirked, almost arrogant in his power and then kicked the door off its hinges. The door collided with a large desk. Hollow walked through the splintered frame and brought up his weapons… and his smile drooped. It was a room full of teenagers with a man lying unconscious where the door had hit him in the head. His face looked like ash and cake mix. He was grimly reminded of Freddy Kruger.
"Anything there?" Rage asked from the other side of the corridor.
Hollow didn't know whether to say yes… or no. He couldn't bring himself to kill children. He'd never had to in his 30,042 years. His thoughts were interrupted as, suddenly, one of the smaller desks at the front was flipped over and the kid sitting behind it launched himself, holding a knife, at Hollow.
Those moments were a flash. All of a sudden he was holding one of the pistols at arm's length and the child was a crumpled figure on the floor.
Hollow looked down and his jaw dropped, "Oh Jesus," was all he whispered as he dropped everything and crouched next to the fallen human. He turned him over and gagged. The boy's face was a grimace and there was a hole in his chest, his ribs glowing and charred. All Hollow could bring himself to do was close the boy's eyes with one hand and then pick his weapons up before turning back.
He hunched his shoulders and glanced once back at the children who covered their mouths. Some were crying. Now's where it sucks to have a long memory. I'll never forget that kid's face, Hollow thought to himself before closing the door.
"What the hell happened in there?" Rage came jogging out of the room he was in, concern all over his face.
"Nothing. I tripped and accidentally fired." Hollow replied, trying to hide his feelings.
"Then why do you look like you've seen a ghost? What was in there?" Rage asked, unbelieving.
"Dead bodies," Hollow replied again. Only telling half the truth.
"What was that noise?" Pocket asked. Her left shoulder covered in blood. She saw Hollow staring and explained, "Not mine. Just a barracks."
"Nothing in there of note. Hollow fell." Rage said, looking toward the doorway that Hollow came from. Hollow shook his head, indicating that Rage didn't want to see what he'd seen.
After having thoroughly searched the building, they moved onto the next ones. They experienced naught else but a few guard barracks and patrols, with which they dealt with easily. They moved onto the main structure. Hollow noticed that the door was much larger than the others. Almost the size of a barn door.
Pocket walked up to the door and put a hand on the rusted, iron bolt that held it shut but no sooner than when her hand touched it the doors flew open with an explosion and she was flung back into the scarred turf. Hollow rolled over to Pocket while Rage held up his staff to cast a light into the darkness within the building. Suddenly he staggered back clutching at his head and grunted.
Hollow would have asked what was wrong but before he could say a word, an incredible mind invaded his own with a blinding pain and growled, tell me what you want before I burn you with the force of a thousand stars!
Hundreds of questions came into Hollow's head. Who was this presence? How many is in there? Before he could ask anything Hollow heard a short bark of laughter from within and another presence invaded with a slightly less dose of pain, leave the poor wretches be, Saphira, they just freed us from those bastards, (oh yes, this is happening). With that, the presences retreated and Hollow could see clearly again. Rage stood back up from the foetal position and Pocket dusted the soil off of here battle-gear.
Hollow walked forward with his Katana raised. He could barely see a thing in the gloom of the warehouse. "Rage, pop a light," he said. Rage continued the spell he had tried earlier. This time it worked. The warehouse was illuminated with a dull glow. It was completely empty apart from a gigantic pile of bright blue canvas. Next to the canvas was a desk and chair with a tall man writing what looked to be his memoirs. Suddenly the canvas started to move until Hollow realised it was not canvas but instead a dragon of immense size. It unrolled until its incredible bulk was scraping along the roof of the building. The building itself was bigger than Hollow had ever seen before and the dragon only just fit into it. Its head was as large as a small house. Its talons were a streaking sapphire blue that glinted in the forlorn mage-light. The rest of its body had the remnants of the same deadly beauty but had been covered with dirt that looked like a thousand years' weathering. It slinked towards the group. An amused glint in its eyes as Rage shivered, staring at its immense fangs.
The presence returned. Without as much force as before. These ones are old. It chuffed, like a tiger. Almost as old as us. It stopped suddenly, in front of Pocket. I remember this one. This one has come from elsewhere. Eragon, come.
The man at the desk stopped writing. He put down his pen and stood up. His fingers spread out on the desk. He turned around. Hollow saw his face. He had brown hair in a style similar to his own. He was incredibly tall, at least 6 '6. He started walking toward them. The dragon, Saphira, looked toward him, waiting patiently. Hollow showed no emotions but was plagued with many. Confusion. Worry. Wonder. And most of all, awe of the dragon and her (because it was undoubtedly a "her") rider. He walked up to Pocket and his jaw dropped. Hollow couldn't quite hear correctly but he thought what he whispered was …"Arya."
