After a few minutes of fruitless chasing Dane found himself in front of his own home; it was one of the smallest and shabbiest places in town. At least it was when he left. Now it looked as though his wife had taken the chance to dress it up in his absence. He could see flowers planted all over and a garden in the back. The garden was a great idea, but the flowers were going to go, Dane hated flowers.
Brushing the thought aside he ran to his home, threw the door open and darted inside. Just like the rest of the town it was also empty. Here too though, Dane could see his wife had been at work. It was much cozier than when he left. It was exactly as he expected a woman to keep their house. He went to bedroom to see if he could find her, perhaps she was hiding. She had always been a coward, but the bedchamber was also empty.
When Dane returned to the main room he nearly choked on his own tongue in surprise. There, sitting casually in a chair at the dinner table was the very man he had been chasing. The figure sat with his elbows resting on the table and his hands together in front of his face. He regarded Dane intently.
"Who the blazes are you?" Dane demanded.
The figure did not answer.
Dane raised his sword threateningly, "Who are you, where is everyone?"
Again, there was no answer.
Rage exploded in Dane he grabbed the table and threw it to one side. It crashed to the floor, but Dane noticed it did not make much of a sound.
"I will ask you one more time," Dane threatened.
As before the figure remained quiet.
Dane raised his sword to cleave this man's head in two. As he brought it down the figure, who was still sitting calmly in the chair, casually waved his hand off to the side. Dane was astonished when his fatal blow was thrown to one side, as though he was hit with a gust of wind. The suddenness of the movement threw Dane off balance and he fell to the floor, his sword was jarred from his hand.
The figure rose. He wore nothing more than a plain white tunic and brown leather travel pants, along with his gray cloak. The cloths were exceedingly simple, yet seemed of a remarkable quality.
The figure walked over to where Dane lay, still stunned from the fall. He crouched down next to the warrior.
"How was your campaign?" he asked in a soft, but strong voice.
"What?" Dane managed to mutter. The question was utterly ridiculous.
"How was your campaign?" the figure repeated.
Dane uttered a curse and spat at the man. He simply shrugged and stood back up. He went to the overturned table and easily picked it up and set right back where it was. Dane had to scramble out of the way as the figure nearly impaled him with one of the legs.
The figure also put the other chair which was also knocked over, back where it belonged.
"Please have a seat," the figure said, then returned to his chair.
Dane started to reach down for his sword, but the figure moved it further away with another wave of his hand.
"So what are you, a wizard?" Dane asked.
The figure merely shrugged.
"I hate wizards," Dane said balefully.
YOU ARE READING
Itinerant Chronicler
FantasyThese are the tales collected by a wandering historian whose only goal was listen to anyone who would tell him their story so he can record it for all to know.
