[Chapter 8 - Hunters Closing]

I was in the air again.

Only this time, the scenery had changed.

I was no longer by the door, but instead stood above the forest clearing, surrounded by the bodies of the fallen soldiers.

I whirled around, a torrent of questions forming upon my lips.

But the wolf was not there.

I was by myself, floating in the open air, warmed by the glow of the midday sun.

And the commotion of metal and people sounded around me.

Light glinted off their armour as throngs of soldiers in blue made their way through the trees.

They picked up the dead with a gentle care, placing their bodies onto equally ornate litters.

Unlike their fallen counterparts, it was clear they were of a lower rank; their armour much more standardized and many not quite fitting their wearers.

Atreian foot soldiers.

Legionaries.

It was evident from the colour of their fabrics.

Yet the people they comprised were fascinatingly diverse.

Not only could a broad range of skin tones be discerned, but some were not human at all. Amongst the men and dwarves, the faces of bears and lizards could be made out beneath the iron legion helmets they all bore. Some even had horns, jutting out from foreheads of living metal.

Their sight drove home how different the world I had come to really was; to see such distinctive anthropomorphic beings, ones I had only read about in the diary of my brother, and could not have even dreamed of, very much alive and breathing in this other reality.

Regardless of their differences, the soldiers were unified not only by their legion armour, but also by the man standing at their centre.

His face was turned away from me, but even without I could see that his authority was clear.

The red cape flowing from his shoulders attested towards it, as did the laurel wreath sitting atop his head, a stark contrast to the aged white hair beneath.

He relayed his commands through the gesturing of his outstretched hand, barking out orders that the soldiers obeyed without question.

My attention however, was drawn instead to the scene below me.

Within which lay on the ground, the same motionless body of the soldier in silver and gold.

Nemetus.

But he was no longer alone.

The inquisitors stood to his side, the necklace outstretched from his throat into the palm of their leader.

She regarded the smashed vial in her open hand, centering her gaze onto the shattered glass within which no trace of the black liquid could be seen.

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“It’s gone.” Her words wrought a heavy tension in the air, disturbed only by the voice of one of her companions.

“Why didn’t they use something sturdier?” A man’s voice. Gruff, matching the broad build that was accentuated by his crossed arms. A giant Zweihänder lay strapped to his back, its huge size made small by the bulk of his giant stature. “Who the fuck stores something like that in glass?”

“You fool.” His companion, a head shorter but equally as armoured, her voice snapping back at his remark. “That’s Silversong-infused glass. It doesn’t just break.”

“Glass is glass.” He shrugged matter-of-factly. “Glass breaks.”

“He would react if there’s no light.” Their leader again. She seemed to care not for their bickering, a certain curiosity tinging her words. “They had to use glass to keep him from the dark.”

Him, I thought. So the liquid was living, and they knew it to be so.

The man snorted in response. “It’s beneath his shirt for fuck’s sake. It’s as dark as it gets.”

She ignored him, twirling the shards between her fingers. “The Solari didn’t take it. They wouldn't have smashed the glass otherwise. Nor would any of them be enough to act as a catalyst.”

“So where is it?”

She placed her hand on the dirt once more, fingers slowly trailing back from Nemetus’ body.

She seemed to sense something I could not and it guided her arm, first across the floor and then to her side. Her gaze followed, moving upwards, turning towards the treeline of the forest opposite.

The same place I had ran to, following Ansgar and Kallas.

“A third party, they came through here.”

“The Outworlder from the gate?” His voice had lost its snarky tone, replaced now by a cold and obvious malice.

“The very same.” She stood up, her stare unmoving whilst she rested her hand on the pommel of her sword.

Looking closer, I could just about make out the occasional boot marks, stumbling at first from the soldier, to the tree, and then across to the hill in rushed pursuit.

I cursed at the sight, a swear unheard by the figures in my dream.

As if the unseen trail guiding her wasn’t enough.

“Are you guys done?”

A new voice, one to my side. I spun round to see the commander ascending the hill to join them. His face betrayed his experience, bearing the countenance of a veteran soldier that was made clear by the scar cutting across his left eye, tracing its way down from his forehead to the top of his white beard.

He cast a sad look at Nemetus, a familiarity evident in his eyes.

“Consul,” the leader nodded. I could hear the respect she held in her voice, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

He remained silent, casting a forlorn smile and a soft wave as he nodded back.

The inquisitor continued, “We’ve found the vial, but the subject’s been taken. We’re heading south to follow.”

“This is where we part ways then.” his voice was calm, betraying nothing as to his thoughts on the loss. “We will be returning to Northgaard.” He gestured to the litters behind him, filled with the bodies of the Atreian dead. “We must see to it that they are given a proper burial for their service.”

“And so shall it be done.” With that, she turned, handing the remnants of the vial to the giant by her side. Without another word, they began making their way towards the treeline, their armoured boots crunching through the grass.

I breathed out a sigh of relief.

The village was still several day’s march away from Northgaard. If they were to go there first, it would at least give me some time to figure out exactly how I could hide myself from their pursuit.

Especially if the inquisitor had some manner of tracking magic guiding her towards me.

As the commander turned back towards the soldiers, a legionary ran up, sweat beading down his face in an obvious indication of haste.

“My lord!” He threw a salute, his actions hurried but proper. “A report from the village in the southwest! There were no sights of any Solari, but the place had been overrun by bandits.”

I felt a sense of foreboding at his words, fearing what he would say next.

The consul did not seem to share the same sentiment, groaning as he contemplated the information that had been given to him. “Bandits?” he sighed. “As if we didn’t have enough problems to deal with already.”

“It has already been dealt with, my lord. A man killed them all before heading northwards!”

My heart dropped. I turned to look, and sure enough the inquisitors had stopped. They had not yet turned, but it was clear they were listening in with great interest.

The old man however raised an eyebrow. “A whole bandit party dealt with by a single man? Even if they’re not as organised, that's still an impressive feat.”

“Yes my lord. The villagers noted he was dressed in black, some sort of strange foreign clothing. He left a few days ago, heading towards Northgaard.”

“What luck consul.” My stomach twisted at the voice. The inquisitors had come back, bemusement tinging the voice of their leader from behind the mask. “It seems like we’ll be going the same way after all.”