The Dwarven Sorcerer

The Dwarven Sorcerer Ch 28

Thrack was definitely being followed. He peered back down the road, squinting in the bright light. He brought his hand up to his brow to shade his eyes from the sun. His dwarven sight was better suited for the underground world where he grew up, so he found it difficult to make out finer details in so much direct light. He couldn't make out how many were following him. Was it a single traveller? Was it a mercenary? An assassin? The Inquisition? Did they find him? A cold shiver ran down his spine at the thought. He wasn't sure if he was being followed by a single person or several.

He wasn't being paranoid; he was definitely being followed. It was five nights ago when he noticed something out of place. He saw the dull orange glow from a campfire behind a distant hill. He dismissed it at first, believing it to be someone heading to the college like himself but when it was closer the next night and every night after that. Thrack knew it couldn't be a coincidence.

At first, he tried to put as much distance between himself and his pursuer as possible. Fear drove him on every day. He only stopped in the evenings to rest and eat and then waking at first light to start again. Repeat. Repeat. It was no use though, no matter how hard he pushed himself No matter how far he walked each day, his pursuer was gaining. Someone was in a hurry to catch him. He knew he was on the right road, the wizard's college was somewhere ahead. He had hoped to get there before his pursuer caught up to him but now he didn't think that was possible.

As Thrack got closer to the college, the villages and farms grew more sparse until there was nothing but forest. At first, it made him feel secure, he didn't really want anything to do with the barbaric humans and their ignorant ways. He found them to be crass compared to the civilized dwarves and he couldn't get out of their towns fast enough. But now he felt exposed like he could be attacked at any moment.

Tall pines, bright elms, lush ferns, and thick bushes crowded right up to the edge of the road like silent sentinels. He was so close to the college that the hairs on his arms would sometimes stand up on end as the flows of magic passed by him. There were small black obelisks lining the road made of some kind of stone that Thrack didn't recognize. They seemed to be placed randomly and without purpose so he ignored them.

He was starting to feel safe away from the Inquisition, away from human settlements, he kept hearing rumours of the dead walking and witnessed the grotesque way people treated the deceased. He felt unwashed and was happy to be as far from them as possible. But now that someone was chasing him he desired the protection of a walled city and the armed watchmen. Thrack had made no attempt to hide his path or to stay out of sight during his flight from the mountains, something he was seriously regretting. He cursed himself for not being more careful. Thrack stared down the road and could make out what looked like a single individual on a horse. That meant it wasn't the Inquisition. He relaxed but not too much, it could still be a hired assassin of some kind.

He grew tired of waiting for his pursuer to catch up to him so he stood in the middle of the road watching as the figure moved hurriedly towards him. He thought of hiding in the thick greenery until whoever was following passed him, but his dwarven honour had him stand in the middle of the road and wait for the confrontation.

Kline stood ready as well, his miniature hammer held loose in his hands and a tiny horned helm on his head.

Where the Hel did he get that helm?

Thrack was already wearing his armour under his cloak and had his hammer at the ready but he didn't put on his helm. He didn't want whoever was following him to think he was looking for a fight in case it was just a fellow traveller. Thrack reckoned that many travellers passed to this way to the college for trade and whatnot even this late in the year. The figure moved quickly, like it was being chased, or chasing something. He felt for the reassurance of his hammer.