Fortunately, though it was still a ways off, the smoke from
his men's fire was easy to see over the treetops, the lazy grey streamer
drifting up into the crystal blue sky.
They had been lucky that the mountains had blessed them with a rare bit
fair weather, something that would soon become a memory once winter fully
descended the rocky slopes. Alec looked
up at the snowy peaks of the Thorn Mountains, well aware that their storms are
the stuff of legends. Many men, both
friend and foe of the dwarves, had been lost in sudden whips of lethal fury
from these mountains. Survivors would
tell stories about how the roaring winds would hurl the snow so hard that any
exposed skin would be worn raw in minutes.
He also knew that, despite the untouched look of this
particular peak, named Rorrin's Horn after Baldrik's ancient ancestor, the
dwarves had many eyes watching them at all times. Story told that the entire mountain had been
turned into a winding network of tunnels and lookouts, masterfully crafted in
such a way that the untrained eye would never see them. Dwarves could be devilishly sneaky creatures
when it came to protecting their secrets.
The man sighed and returned his attention to the path ahead of them.
As they travelled farther and farther down into the tree
line, leaving that area above which nothing grew, it became harder and harder
to pick out the camp's fire. Soon they
were enveloped in a mass of towering, ancient pines that cut off everything but
brief glimpses of the sky directly above.
It was deceptively peaceful, the sounds and smells of the forest so
serene and seemingly untouched. Yet any
wise man knew that ancient trees often harbored ancient creatures who would
fiercely protect their home. This place
was no exception. Between the
unforgiving mountains and the surrounding forest, it was not hard to understand
why the Iron Wells remained hidden for so long.
Indeed, even one as experienced with a blade as Alec could
feel worry here. He reached over and
checked that his sword was close by and ready to be drawn at a moment's
notice. Even Baldrik had stopped his
muttering and was warily watching the surrounding trees.
"You dwarves surely know how to pick a perfect spot to
call home..." Alec tried his best
to release at least some of his tension.
There was nothing to be alarmed of.
Yet.
"Aye, we do be knowing the value of our
home." Baldrik still sounded
distant, but his eyes were sharp.
"Asides, what we be here for lies 'neath us. We don't be caring too
much for what's up here."
The dwarf's ability to insert his disdain for the surface
into almost anything he said was astounding.
Alec just shook his head again; "Yes, I know."
They fell back into silence as both were too involved in
watching and listening to the forest around them. Even the horses were listening. Their ears were flicking wildly, and they
hardly made a noise but for the sound of their hooves in the dead pine needles
on the ground for there was no paved path for them to follow. Instead Alec guided his wagon through the
woods following subtle markers and clues placed by the dwarves. Things simple as a fallen tree, positioned
just so, or a pile of rocks that, to any untrained passerby, would seem
completely natural. Dwarves could be
sneaky, but these were exceptionally so.
"We be watched.
And it aint me boys."
Baldrik's voice was low and gruff.
He still seemed outwardly uninterested, but there was a hint of the
tension now built up in the stubby dwarf's body: the tip of a studded mace
could be seen sticking out from under the folds of his heavy cloak.
A subtle nod of Baldrik's head directed Alec's hooded gaze to
the right of the wagon, off into the dark thicket of trees. The gloom was so heavy that the man could hardly
see anything, but he could almost feel whatever was watching them, lurking just
out of eyesight. The small hairs on the
back of his neck prickled. "Can you
tell what it is?"
"Aint no way to be knowin'. Most men 'er dead that's seen what be out
here." He paused and rubbed a
finger under his nose, sniffling heavily before returning his hand to his
cloak. "Though I don't be thinkin'
we in trouble just yet. 'Else it wouldn't a showed isself."
Alec supposed the old dwarf had a point. Part of him found it odd that the tribe of
the Iron Well would allow their founder and leader to tread this dangerous path
out of the peak. He supposed that the
dwarves in all their secrecy saw move value in keeping their cards close than
in a single, albeit legendary, dwarf smith.
It might even have been at Baldrik's command: regardless of how things
turned out, the forges would still be burning long after Baldrik Firehammer
joined his ancestors in the hallowed halls of the afterlife.
The weapons master continued to glance in the direction of
whatever was following them between course adjustments. He never once caught a glimpse of it beyond a
darker shadow shrouded in even more shadow.
He found the sudden silence unsettling.
Besides the creaking of the wagon and the clop of hooves through the
underbrush, there was not a sound to be heard.
Any breeze had gone still, birds and forest critters had ceased what
they were doing. It felt almost as if
one giant, collective breath was being held in anticipation for what would come
next.
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