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.
His power had grown aggressively, it had become much more powerful than he could ever have imagined. He found he could change it, manipulate it into so much more; it was no longer limited to ice and snow, Thrack had now dominion over fire and lightning. One night, out of curiosity, Thrack managed to shoot a lightning bolt from his hammer; blinding white sparks exploded into the night as it cracked against the tree. He jumped up and pumped his fist in the air out of sheer exhilaration. He felt like Donner Wodinsson himself. He wondered briefly if that was the secret to the gods, it all came down to magic. He pushed the thought away quickly, it felt blasphemous.
Now, he stood stoic in the middle of the road watching the figure grow close enough that Thrack could see it was a human; too tall and thin to be a dwarf, and too short and clumsy to be an elf. Would the inquisition have hired a human mercenary to hunt him down? He reckoned they might, nothing was beneath them, and Thrack had learned that humans would do anything for a piece of dwarven gold; they had no honour. The person wore a long dark cloak that hid its face and body making Thrack feel uneasy.
The figure stopped several steps away, the horse breathing heavily. They stared at each other for several moments. "Will you let me pass," came a woman's voice. Thrack raised an eyebrow, he wasn't expecting that. She pulled her hood back revealing brown hair tied in a tight bun on the top of her head. Her face was round and plain looking, splattered with brown freckles, and she had large friendly eyes.
"Aye," he said. "I ain't going to stop you."
She didn't move, looked too afraid to come any closer but she kept looking back over her shoulder like she was too afraid to go back.
"I'm Emily," she said.
"Thrack, son of Durim," he replied.
"Is that a Brownie?" Emily asked, smiling slightly, looking at Kline standing next to Thrack.
"A what?" Thrack turned to Kline standing next to him looking fierce in his armour and holding his tiny hammer, as fierce as he could standing only six inches tall while riding a small fox.
"A brownie," she repeated. "They're good luck you know. Magical creatures that help and protect those they're drawn to."
Thrack looked at the wee man again, "You gonna protect me?" he asked in Dwarven. Kline stuck out his chin, daring anyone to say otherwise.
They stood in silence a moment longer, neither of them moving. Waiting for the other to decide what happens next.
"I'm going to the Mage's College. Are you going there too?" she asked. The question was unnecessary, the college was the only thing down the road.
Thrack hesitated then shuddered and nodded. "Aye."
"Would it be alright if I travelled with you?" She asked.
Thrack didn't want another companion but there was something in the way she kept looking over her shoulder that made him feel like he couldn't deny her; besides, if his mum ever found out that he refused to accompany a lone frightened woman down the road he wouldn't need to worry about the Inquisition anymore, she'd kill him.
Emily led her horse by the reins, walking beside Thrack and Kline. She asked an incredible amount of questions as they travelled as if talking would conceal her nervousness. She asked about his life in the mountains, what Thrack did there, what his family was like, and anything else she could think of.
He told her of his mountain home but kept his answers short, it pained him to talk of what he left behind in too much detail, even if it was temporary. "The mountain's roots run deep, giving us many treasures. Iron, gold, gems, and even the stone itself." he felt a longing for his home and was hit with an overwhelming feeling of homesickness. "We have many machines to make our lives easier. We have steam pipes that run underneath the streets to power it all." He talked about his friends the dower Bofac and the jocular Grundi. Ula's face filled Thrack's mind, he said nothing else about his home after that and walked in silence.
Emily did well on their first day of travelling together, Thrack was used to not having to stop for breaks; he'd walked for as far and long as he possibly could before stopping briefly to take care of his needs and continuing on again. She managed to keep up with him for the most part without complaint. It wasn't until he saw her stumble that he suggested that they rest briefly.
She looked frightened as she walked, she would glance over her shoulder as if she were worried that someone was following her. Maybe she's just a wee bit paranoid. The forest made him feel uneasy as well. He constantly felt like something was watching him. He jumped at every noise, which brought his magic to the surface. He'd have to force it down again, shuddering every time.
Thrack built a small efficient fire as the sun began its descent but Emily insisted that they built a larger brighter one.
"A fire like that could draw too much attention," said Thrack.
"But the creatures that live in these parts are driven away from the fire, and they can be dangerous, or so I hear," she said. Thrack looked at the darkening woods around him and gave into her judgement, still unfamiliar with the world outside the mountain.
Emily started a stew with the surprisingly few supplies, Thrack added some of his salted mutton to the mix and waited for it to cook. She sat on a rock looking into the fire while the stew simmered. "You don't know what a Brownie is do you?" she asked.
"No," he confessed.
"Didn't think so. It's funny, you know, everyone out here knows what they are; they're everywhere. Mostly they keep to themselves, but you can see them darting here and there, riding their little animals. They live in the forests, at least that's what me dad reckons." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Me cousin saw one of their villages. She said there were all these tiny huts built up in the trees, all connected by tiny rope bridges. Oh, and they're drawn to magic, I heard. Must be attracted to your magic stuff. Don't you dwarves travel with magical items or something?" Thrack nodded, lying. She continued: "Yeah, that must be why he's attached to you. But it's good that he's here, you know, they really are good luck. That's why people leave food out for them every night. It brings luck into the home"
"What do they do?" he asked.
She shrugged, "don't know really. They don't talk to anyone that's not a Brownie," she shrugged again. "Reckon I don't know if they can even talk; they understand you though. They keep things clean mostly it seems, like in houses or camps and stuff. They help in their way. They typically stay away from bad men and the like. It's like they can sense the good in others. Like they can read your intentions or something; you know, if you mean to harm others or not. That's how I knew I could trust you. 'A brownie's friendship is never given easily,' me mama would say. Ah, stew's ready," said Emily, spooning some into a couple of bowls.
Thrack tried it, it was quite good, one of the best things he's eating in days and he told her so.
"Thanks," she said. "Me mum thought it important that I learn all the womanly skills, cookin', cleanin', and sewin'."
"Them's useful skills," he said through a mouthful of food.
"Right you are, I guess, but I hate doing it. But I guess it's a woman's lot in life, ain't it." Thrack didn't understand. She-dwarves and he-dwarves had the same opportunities in the mountain kingdom in all areas except war; she-dwarves were considered to be too valuable to risk. "I'm going to be a mage," she said proudly. "They take both men and women into their college. There's this school nearby me dad's farm; they teach mostly geography, maths, writin', alchemy, and the lot, but they don't take women, is all. I ain't happy with my lot in life. I'm supposed to be some housewife to some ungrateful sod who needs a mum more than he needs a wife. Bugger that." There was a long pause as they ate their meals and listened to the fire crack. "Why are you going to the college," she asked the one question he was hoping she wouldn't and knew she would. "Is it for trade?"
He shook his head and paused for some time. "I've been cursed," he said finally. "I'm hoping they can cure me."
"Oh," she said solemnly. "That's a terrible thing. Is that why you shudder so much."
"Aye," he said, looking at the fire. "Me body's at war with the curse. It's fighting to rid itself of it."
Emily shook her head. "You think the mages'll be able to help you?"
Thrack shrugged. "Dunno," he said. "I hope."
They finished the stew and Thrack threw some more wood on the fire before they bedded down for the night.
The three figures made for a motley band as they travelled down the road to the college in the morning. The thick and stout dwarf, armed and armoured, the lithe woman dressed in simple travelling clothes leading her small horse, and the tiny Brownie on the back of a brown fox. The woods around them seemed dark in spite of the bright sun; deep shadows kept what lived within hidden. Thrack felt uneasy, he could feel he was being watched. Emily looked around her as if expecting to be attacked at any moment, even Kline seemed to be tense.
"It's the woods," said Emily, breaking the thick silence. "The mages cast spells on them to ward off those that want to assault the college. It also tests the resolve of those who wish to join."
Thrack grunted, but it didn't put him at ease. They were about to stop for their midday meal when Thrack heard something on the road behind him. He stopped and listened intently.
"What is it?" asked Emily, her human hearing not able to pick up what his superior dwarven could.
Kline looked up at the dwarf from his mount, a curious look on his face.
"Horses," said Thrack.
Emily paled. "How far?" she asked.
He shrugged, "not far."
She looked around her for a place to hide. "We have to get off the road," she was barely able to keep the panic out of her voice.
"Expectin' someone?" asked Thrack.
Emily shook her head, then nodded. "It's complicated. I think it might be my fiance, Leonard."
"Your fiance?"
"Aye, a local Baron. An ex-military leader who was given a tremendous amount of wealth from the king for his services in the war but has gotten himself into some trouble because of his gambling and spending. He ain't got much of his wealth left now."
"Why does he want to marry a local farm girl?"
She hesitated before answering. She spoke rapidly. "I'm more than just a farmer's daughter. Me dad owns several acres of land and even has some serfs to farm the land for him. Plus, me fiance's uncle is quite wealthy. He told him that if he were to marry someone and settle down, he would share his wealth with him. But I hate him. He's a terrible man, cruel and vicious; he scares me. He always has this look like he wants to hurt me. If it's him he'll take me back by force and make me marry him and then he'll — oh god, I just can't go back." Tears welled in her eyes.
"Why don't you just not marry him?"
"I wish it were that easy, but as a woman, I can only marry, join the church and become a nun, or join the mage's college. Since I would be a terrible nun and I would rather die than marry him," she shrugged. "I ain't got much choice." She looked around, her eyes wide with fear. The horses were close enough that both Emily and Kline could now hear them approaching. "We really need to hide."
Thrack thought about letting the trouble pass him by and then continuing on with the rest of his journey. Dammit, he was just so bloody close now. He shuddered. It would be so easy to hide and let the troubles pass him by and go on to the college. It would be so easy.
Thrack spat on the ground. He was a fucking dwarf gods-dammit and a Thenge. He ain't got no choice, dwarves don't hide from a fight, no matter the odds.
He shook his head. "I will wait for them here," he said. "You can hide if you want. I ain't. They don't know me. I reckon they'll just pass by."
She hesitated. "No, He'll stop to ask you if you've seen me and I can't let you lie for me." She gave the dark forest a terrified glance. She wasn't sure if she was more afraid of the cursed forest or her fiance. "I won't let you fight my battles alone," she said with finality and stood beside him.
Thrack nodded his approval. "You've got the heart of the dwarf. Do you have a weapon?"
"No," she said. She looked embarrassed.
He loosened the hammer in his belt and handed her his hunting knife. She took it and held it awkwardly in two hands in front of her body.
"Looks like it's just you and me little man," he said to Kline. The brownie looked ready for a fight, unafraid of whatever was coming down the road. He put his on his helm and held his hammer like a warrior.
It only took a quarter of an hour before the riders rode over the hill. There were six in all and armed and lightly armoured; five hard-looking men and one soft.
"That's him, that's Leonard," said Emily timidly.
Leonard led the pack, he was dressed in bright gaudy colours. His leggings were tight, coloured with black and yellow stripes, he wore a long red and elegantly designed tunic that reached to his knees with a bright pink overcoat. Long ruffles hung from his wrists and neck. He wore a long blonde wig tied in the back and his face was painted white with red lips and cheeks.
"He's a bloody peacock," muttered Thrack.
"Oh my god," said Emily. "He brought Luther."
Thrack reckoned she was talking about the giant man riding beside the painted peacock. He was at least a head taller than everyone else, making him at least two heads taller than Thrack and nearly as wide.
"Luther's a monster," said Emily. "He's cruel and sadistic and so strong. Oh god, you can't fight him, he'll kill you." Emily trembled. Thrack growled. "I can't let you defend me against these men. I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I'll just go back with them, it'll be easier."
Thrack shook his head. There would be no honour in letting her leave with these men.
"I have fought actual monsters before, he's just a man. Men bleed and die no matter how big they are. I'm with you 'til the end," he said simply; Kline agreed.
The horsemen stopped several steps in front of Thrack.
Leonard rode out in front. "Emily my love,' he said "Look at the trouble you've caused. Come now, let's go home and we can forget about this whole thing." His voice was soft and high-pitched. He held out a dainty gloved hand to her, she didn't take it. She shook her head. "I am growing irritated with your childish behaviour, girl. Come here."
"She said 'no'," growled Thrack.
Leonard looked at Thrack as if seeing him for the first time. "Ah, I see you have found a companion on the road. How nice," Leonard gestured to one of the men behind him who passed him a purse. Leonard threw it at Thrack, it landed at his feet, splashing mud on his boots. "For your trouble. You may go now, dwarf. I relieve you of your burden" Leonard waved a dismissive hand.
Thrack glanced at the purse. "What the Hel is this?"
"My lord," said Leonard.
"What?" asked Thrack
"You will refer to me as 'my lord'," said Leonard.
Thrack stuck out his chin defiantly. "You stupid human," he said. "You should know who you're talking to. Dwarves are the superior race. How dare you disrespect me."
"Know my — know my place?" stammered Leonard. "You insignificant cur."
Thrack ground his teeth and spat on the ground. "You fucking, beardless bastard."
A flash of anger flashed across Leonard's face. "You dare talk to me like that? I am the baron Cantinbury and a captain in his majesty's army. I will not be spoken to in that manner by the likes of you. Emily, for the last time, get on your horse and come along. I am growing irritated."
There was a long pause as everyone waited for someone to do something. It was Leonard that finally broke the silence.
"Alright, this has grown tiresome." he looked at Luther. "Kill the dwarf, bring me the girl."
"You will die for your efforts," growled Thrack.
"Bah," laughed Leonard. "There are six of us and only one of you. The odds are clearly in our favour."
"Ain't," said Thrack. "There are two of us," he gestured to Kline on his fox. "And I won't have to kill all of you. First, I will kill your man there," he gestured to Luther. "Then, I'll only have to kill one or two of your men, the rest will run once they realize they ain't got the stones for a fight." He shrugged as he just stated a fact: grass is green, rocks are hard.
"I grow tired of these games," said Leonard lazily. "Luther, kill the dwarf."
The men got off their horses, drew their weapons, and spread out. Luther drew his weapons. He held a long sword in his right hand and a long-handled bearded axe in his left. He held the heavy weapons as if they weighed nothing. He's bloody strong. Thought Thrack; doubt peered into his mind before he closed it off. Luther moved with such an elegant ease that defied his massive bulk. This man was a fighter, this man was a killer. He wore a sleeveless chainmail shirt, exposing his massive arms. His face and arms were scared from many battles that he obviously triumphed in. He moved lightly on his feet and look unafraid as he stared down Thrack.
"My name is Luther son of Luther," his voice was deep and heavily accented. "I tell you this so when you go to the afterlife you can tell those there who sent you." He smiled. "Many there already know my name."
Thrack placed his horned helm on his head but left his hammer hanging from his belt. There was no way he could beat this man in a fight, but he wasn't gonna run either.
Luther banged his weapons together and opened his arms wide, the men cheered him.
In a flash, Thrack pulled his musket from the holster on his back and fired. The bullet ripped through Luther's mail as if it were silk and tore through his flesh and heart, spraying a bloody mist into the air. His mouth fell open in disbelief and fell heavily to the ground, dead in a pool of his own blood.
Thrack dropped the gun and quickly pulled his hammer ready for the real fight. One of the men pulled a bow from his back and had it nocked with an arrow before Thrack could react. The arrow flew true and hit the dwarf in the chest, where the shaft snapped in two, the man-made steel barely scratching the dwarven armour Thrack wore under his cloak.
Kline screamed a wee war cry and charged at the archer. Thrack followed his initiative and charged one of the men just as he pulled this sword from its sheath. Thrack swung overhand, bringing the hammer down on the man's head, using both hands behind the attack. The man held up his sword to block the attack but the hammer snapped it in half and hit him with all the strength Thrack could muster onto the man's face. His skull disintegrated as his face was pushed into the back of his head, sending bone and gore flying into the air.
Kline reached the archer before he could nock a second arrow. The fox scurried behind him and tore into the man's exposed legs with his sharp teeth, ripping out a piece of flesh. The man cried out in pain and kicked at the fox but missed. Kline leapt from his mount and nimbly climbed up the archer with incredible speed and agility. Seconds later, he was pulling the helm from the man's head and, using his hair as a rope, swinging down to his face. Kline began to beat the man mercilessly with his tiny hammer. One of the man's eyes was ripped from its socket; it flew to the earth as his face was pulverized to a bloody mess. Kline smashed the man's nose, broke his face, and cracked his skull.
The man cried out in anguish and brought his hands to his face, blood seeped through his fingers. Kline jumped down, grabbing the man's chainmail shirt and started beating on the man's throat, collapsing his trachea. The fox moved behind the man and bit and clawed at his calves, tearing into muscle and tendons until he fell backwards and hit the ground hard, Kline was still beating the man with his hammer. When the work was done, Kline calmly climbed back onto his mount and rode away, letting the man die.
Thrack looked at the two remaining fighters, expecting them to run, but to his utter astonishment they didn't; these were highly trained soldiers. They moved to either side of Thrack, surrounding him, their shields and swords at the ready. They attacked simultaneously, slashing at the dwarf. Thrack deflected one of the attacks but the other hit, slicing through his cloak but was deflected by his armour. Thrack turned and swung at the soldier; he stepped away and blocked the stroke with his shield only to have the first soldier strike again. The soldiers danced in and out, striking and retreating, not giving Thrack a chance to fight.
"Fuck," Thrack cursed in Dwarven, giving the curse extra meaning.
A soldier attacked, slashing at Thrack and stepping back from his hammer, teasing him, refusing to fight properly, trying to wear down the dwarf. Thrack's horned-helm was knocked from his head, he growled in frustration. Enough. Like all dwarven soldiers, Thrack had an enormous amount of faith in those who built his armour; he tested that faith.
Thrack stepped towards one of the soldiers, exposing his back to the other one. He took a solid blow to his side and felt his ribs crack, but the armour held. He pinned the sword to his side with his arm, holding the man in place. Thrack brought his hammer down on the man who barely got his shield up in time. The dwarf felt the shield crack and his arm break under the weight of the hammer. He stuck, again and again, pummelling the man through the shield until both the shield and the man was a broken mess.
The other soldier attacked from behind, striking Thrack in the back but his armour held. Then, he swung with everything he had at Thrack's weapon arm. His arm snapped with a loud crack and Thrack's hammer flew from his grip.
"Gah," cried Thrack, turning to face his foe. He reached for his hunting knife, the knife that wasn't there, the knife that was in Emily's hands. "Gods dammit."
The soldier swung at Thrack, his sharp blade flying at his head. He raised his good arm; he deflected the blow but the blade dug into Thrack's hand, severing two fingers.
"Gah," cried Thrack.
Thrack backed away and tripped over a loose rock and fell onto his arse; the soldier smirked and moved in, his sword ready to finish the dwarf off. Thrack pulled his power to the surface, held out his bloody hand and sent a fist-sized ball of ice towards the soldier with so much force that when it struck the large elm behind him it disintegrated the trunk, along with the man's head. The soldier's headless body took two steps, blood spraying in the air like a fountain, before it fell.
Thrack shuddered violently.
Emily looked at Thrack, her mouth hung open in shock. He felt his face flush with heat; he could no longer hold her gaze. He felt ashamed.
"You're a wizard," she said. She cheered, punching an arm in the air. "Well, that's something." There was excitement in her voice.
Thrack looked up at her. Instead of seeing revulsion as he expected, she looked thrilled. Thrack turned to Leonard ready to finish off the painted peacock only to see him riding back down the road as fast as his horse could carry him.
"Fucking coward," spat Thrack watching him disappear over the hill.
Emily helped Thrack bandage his hand, wrapping the bloody stumps of his missing fingers tight. It hurt like Hel but Thrack managed not to cry out.
Thrack, Emily, and Kline tried to salvage what they could from the fight but there wasn't much. All the horses but Emily's ran off at some point and the purse Leonard threw at Thrack only contained a few copper halfpennies.
"I told you he ain't rich," said Emily. Thrack took his knife back but gave her one of the swords. They were well made — for human steel.
"How close are we to the college?" asked Thrack.
Emily shrugged. "Not sure. A couple of days I think."
"We should get goin' then," he said through clenched teeth, pushing down the pain.