Sparkler and the Wolf

47: Apologies and Favours

They made camp on a sandy ledge above a small, glittering pool complete with a waterfall. Dorian paced the sandy ground just beyond the camp, his eyes taking in all the different approaches which could be used to ambush them while they slept. He didn't like how vulnerable the camp was or how easily any approaching force could remain hidden until it was too late.

Cullen came to join him as his mind worked furiously to come up with a solution, saying nothing as Cullen stood behind him.

"You're thinking our camp is too exposed." Cullen mused as Dorian studied the path they'd followed into the oasis.

"Very astute Commander." Dorian replied, staring at the rocky ledge above them.

Cullen followed his line of sight and gave a snort of ascent. "I certainly hope you aren't considering bringing that wall of rock crashing down here to block it."

"Nothing so barbaric and southern as that my dear Cullen, though placing a giant rock here is part of my plan." He said, flicking his wrist at the rocky ledge and breaking off a giant piece which he then lowered into place, blocking the path he was staring at.

"Are you truly that worried Dorian?" Cullen asked quietly, studying the hard look in the mage's eyes and the stiff set to his shoulders.

"Do you really have to ask?" He snapped, muttering under his breath as he traced sigils in the air, warding the rock and setting rune traps on either side. "They are looking for me. They sent a letter to taunt me that they were after me and here I am making myself a target. On top of that, Fenris is determined to wipe them all out before we can learn anything about what they're up to out here."

"I'm sure he's only worried for you Dorian. For your safety."

"As if I don't know that. But they know of him too, the danger to him is just as serious and just as real. But do you see him being cautious? No, of course not, he's the invincible Ghost who can do anything, survive anything. Believes himself to be indestructible. After all his years of freedom it has made him complacent, over-confident. He's forgotten the power of true Magister's drunk on power and blood magic, but I don't dare say so since I know he won't listen."

"I'm sure he knows Dorian and he would listen to you if you reminded him. I admit his actions earlier were shocking, but he is a very capable warrior who has seen more than his share of battles."

"That just means his averages are reducing his string of good fortune." Dorian retorted, moving to the next path leading to their camp. "Since I can't stop him from running headlong into battle I'm going to place wards all over this area. If you wouldn't mind watching my back or spotting approaches I don't see, I would appreciate it."

"Of course." Cullen nodded, clamping his mouth shut on anything he might have said to talk Dorian out of his frustration.

Half an hour later, the small valley had been warded against a surprise attack as much as was possible. With his preparations in place, Dorian returned to camp. After collecting his soaps and a towel, he returned to the pool below, just out of sight of prying eyes to wash the sand from his skin.

Dumping the contents on a small dry spot, he got to work removing his cloak and leathers, eager to feel clean. The sound of soft footfalls through the water's edge had him tense, recognizing the tread of Fenris, whose step was unmistakable.

"Go away." He growled, keeping his back to the warrior as he stepped into the water. "I don't want to talk to you right now."

"Good." Fenris replied, the sound of armour landing on the ground reaching Dorian's ears. "I wasn't planning to do much talking."