The Dwarven Sorcerer

The Dwarven Sorcerer Ch 29

Mordin hated the outside world, he hated everything about it. He hated the people, he hated the smell, he hated the noise, and most of all he hated the sun. The heat was relentless. The sun constantly bombarded him with its unforgiving light. His skin had burned red and peeled, exposing new tender skin underneath. He blamed that bloody wizard for dragging him out of the caves.

He had been chasing Thrack for nearly a month now and felt like he weren't no closer to catching him. The worst part was that he almost had him. They were a day from catching him. A day! And then he just fucking disappeared.

His inquisitors were keeping their distance from him, nervous of his short temper, afraid of saying the wrong thing and setting him off. They huddled over a map, discussing where to head to next.

"Best I can reckon," said a red-headed dwarf named Olak pointing to a fork in the road. "Either the bastard went north to the wizard's college or south to the city of Nortenshire."

"I fucking know those are the only two ways he could've gone, you stupid twit," snapped Mordin. "What I want to know is: which way did he fucking go."

Olak cowed away from the albino's temper. "Um," he continued. "There is reason for him to go either way. Him being a wizard and all, he might wanna be with his own kind in the college, but if he goes to Nortonshire instead he could blend in and disappear forever. That's one of the largest cities in Mittilgart, filled with all sorts of races, dwarves too."

Mordin leaned in towards Olak and spoke in a low dangerous tone. "If you tell me what I already know one more time, I swear to the hanged god I will fucking gut you like a bloody rat. Tell me where he is going."

Olak swallowed hard and ran a shaky hand through his beard. "I ain't sure," he said.

This here was an important decision. If they were to chase him south and he went north there would be no time to double back and catch him before he got himself to the college where he could hide under the protection of the wizards, but if they were to go south and he went north he could make it to Nortonshire and disappear; they would never find him. It was going to come down to a guess.

Mordin turned to Grundi. His red eyes barely containing his murderous rage. "Well, this is why you're here ain't it? You're supposed to know him. Where did he go?"

Grundi let his eyes drift down the two roads.

"North," said Grundi. "We go north. He's going to the college."

There was a long silence, the inquisitors looked nervously at the albino.

"Good," said Mordin. "That weren't so bloody hard, was it? Let's go north. We'll catch him before he reaches the college." He stood and headed down the road, his inquisitors following quickly behind.

. . .

Emily checked Thrack's arm. "Aye, it's definitely broken," she said.

She tied a wooden splint tight around his arm. Then he lifted it so she could get a look at his ribs. His entire side was deep purple and green. He ground his teeth and flinched from her touch. "They're cracked but I've seen worse," she said. "You'll live."

He nodded his gratitude and dressed. It took him twice as long to don his armour than usual, even with her help. He shuddered and grimaced from the pain.

"Where did you learn to do this?" he asked her.

"People get hurt all the time on me dad's farm — like they do on all farms, you understand, so I was taught some basic healing to help the men out when they needed it," she said. "It saved me dad money too. Otherwise, he'd either be short-handed in the fields while his man healed or he'd have to hire a physician."