Page 11

Chapter Ten

Korik

Breakfast the next morning was an even larger spread, and this time the entire elven family sat with them in the parlor. There weren’t any chairs large enough for Korik, so he ended up perching awkwardly in an armchair with his plate balanced precariously on his knees. Still, it was better food than he’d had in weeks, even better than dinner the night before; he ate as much as he could of the various fresh fruits provided to them, along with pastries, eggs, bacon, sausages, and a decadent fruit tart that wouldn’t have been out of place on a dessert table at a feast.

One of the older sons—older than Korik expected considering how Varen had described a “gaggle” of children, though it was difficult to tell with elves—had been staring at him with wide eyes from the other side of the room for the first part of the meal. His expression wasn’t fearful, so Korik suspected he was just fascinated by seeing an orc in his parlor. Then the elf boy picked up what looked like a lute and performed to scattered applause, as everyone else finished their breakfast; he hovered near Korik, but still seemed unable to gather enough courage to speak to him.

Finally, Korik turned to the teenage elf and said, in as polite of a tone as he could manage, “You play very well.”

The boy lowered his head, stammering. “Oh, er, thank you, Mr.—Healer Korik.” He glanced up at Korik, curly hair flopped over his face. “I, um, I had meant to ask you how much of what they say in the songs about orcs are true, but I guess we won’t have enough time.”

Korik forced down a laugh. “Perhaps next time.”

The boy’s expression brightened. “Right. Next time.”

Packing was a quick affair, as Korik had only unpacked the necessities—not that there was much more than his bedroll and clothes now. They were given more food for the journey, mostly fruits and a few loaves of bread, and then they departed.

Varen had mentioned their group would be smaller, but Korik hadn’t realized that he meant it would be just Alwyn added to their original party as they set back out on the road. Enriel rode on her horse as always; Korik was now riding his orcish-bred horse; the other they had traded for two mules, which became mounts for Varen and Alwyn.

“Is it just the four of us, then?” he asked Varen quietly, as they passed through the estate gates. He nodded.

“The others plan to take a few extra days to rest. They’re headed elsewhere.”

“I see,” Korik said, and he could tell from the slight change in Varen’s expression that the elf understood his concern about Alwyn and shared it. But he said nothing, and they rode on in silence.

The next few days passed uneventfully. Alwyn kept to himself, speaking little to Varen or Enriel, and not at all to Korik, which he supposed was just as well. At least he wasn’t causing trouble.

The weather was growing steadily cooler now, enough so that Korik took the cloak that had served as extra bedding and draped it over himself for most of the day. Their surroundings became more forested, the grasses greener and more lush, as they traveled through woodland trails and verdant hills. He caught glimpses of a few more large estates, like the Trisfiel estate where they had rested, but none so close to the main road they traversed.

They passed more and more elves on the road, too—they would always seem to startle at seeing Korik, but would relax seeing the elves he traveled with. Occasionally, Varen would want to stop to chat with the passersby, asking for any news or updates from either the capital or Drol Kuggradh; but there had been nothing of note to report in the weeks that they’d been on the road.

As they turned more southwest into the heart of Aefraya, they encountered elves on the road more frequently; and the more they encountered, the less surprised they seemed at Korik’s presence. He had heard that a handful of orcs had made their way into Aefraya, mostly merchants setting up shop near the capital. He wondered how bold and enterprising these orcs must have been to go straight to the center of the land that they’d been at war with for so long, just for some gold; but he was here too, he supposed, and probably not making nearly as much coin for his trouble.

Finally, the capital city came into sight in the distance one afternoon; Korik did not realize what it was at first, but Varen pointed out to him the shape of the massive tree-temple and the spires of the castle rising behind it. Relief flooded Korik’s chest at the sight, knowing that now only the journey home remained—luckily without Alwyn’s silent, sullen presence. The relief was tempered a bit, though, remembering that Enriel would not be there either, only him and Varen. But this was where Enriel wanted to be, and he was glad to see her arrive safely at her destination.

By the time they reached the city gates, the sun was beginning to set, bathing the landscape in a golden light. The walls were constructed of a pearly white stone. Korik could see all sorts of trees and greenery shading the buildings on the hillside beyond; they were made of either stone or warm wood, and lined the path up to the castle at the peak.

He had imagined what a city might look like—how different it might be from Drol Kuggradh—but his imagination paled in comparison to the real thing. They had passed through various elven villages and seen other estates as they traveled, but they weren’t like this. The way the paths cut so neatly through the city and up to the castle, creating an even grid all the way around; the cohesive colors and sizes of the buildings; and the way the trees and plants had been situated so that the city looked as if it had grown naturally along with the forest. It all struck Korik, who wondered at how much meticulous planning would have to go into something like this, all the coordinated effort of so many elves working together to create something so... precise .

Drol Kuggradh was nothing like it, what with its wide expanses of open space for tents; and so few of its buildings being permanent structures, all made of mismatched materials, creating meandering paths within the stone walls of the city that had been moved and expanded, over and over again. And he had heard about human cities, too: how they were often even bigger, more tightly packed. He couldn’t picture anything larger than this.

Enriel must have noticed him staring as they waited, while Varen spoke with the guard standing at the wall.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she chuckled, leaning closer to him to speak in a conspiratorial tone. “What do you think?”

“It is certainly... impressive,” Korik replied, nodding. “I have never seen anything like it.”

She followed his gaze up toward the castle where it perched on the hill. That one building alone must have taken just as much careful planning and coordination as the entire city below, Korik thought. Part of him wondered how they had the time to do something so meticulous, but he supposed that was an advantage of having such a long lifespan.

“Honestly, I don’t think there are any cities like it, even other elven cities,” she agreed, hiding a smile behind her hand. “I mean, I have a soft spot for our home town, but it’s just a little village, and objectively...”

“Alright, we’re all clear,” Varen said, interrupting them. He motioned for them to draw closer, and the guard nodded, gesturing for them to pass through the gate. The elf’s eyes lingered on Korik for a beat longer than the others, but the guard said nothing as their horses trotted past.

“I must report to the castle,” Alwyn said primly, as they passed through the gate.

“As must I,” Varen said, keeping pace with him. “Enriel, why don’t you take Korik to our lodgings, and I’ll join you both once I’ve checked in?”

Enriel gave him a strange look, but did not argue. “Alright,” she sighed, turning to Korik. “Come with me, then.”

Korik nodded, but watched with uncertainty as Varen and Alwyn started heading up the widest road. He still felt wary of Alwyn, but he supposed the sorcerer wouldn’t do anything untoward to Varen in broad daylight on a major path just below the castle.

He turned his horse to follow Enriel, who led him further into the city. It was early enough in the evening that the streets were still bustling with elves. Many of them watched him as he passed, but it was mostly looks of surprise and curiosity, or at least he hoped so. None seemed outwardly hostile, at the very least. He didn’t notice any other elves on horseback either, which only made them stand out even more.

“Our lodgings ,” Enriel repeated after a moment, catching his attention as she chuckled. “I don’t know why he called it that. We’ll be staying with our aunt and uncle for a few days, before my aunt accompanies me to our parents’ home.”

Korik nodded, but now felt much more uncomfortable. There, he would be much more of an intruder, an outsider , than he had been even at the Trisfiel estate. She must have seen the worry cross over his face, as she added quickly,

“Don’t worry, they know you’re coming with us. Everything will be fine.”

He nodded again, hoping she was right.

The home was on the far side of the city from the gate where they’d entered, so even on horseback, the last rays of the sun were disappearing behind the horizon by the time they arrived. Enriel stopped in front of a large home with a sprawling yard—most of the dwellings in this part of the city were larger and more spread out than those closer to the gate—and she hopped off of her horse, gesturing for Korik to do the same. He dismounted and followed her into the yard, leading the horses behind them.

The front door opened before they got close enough to knock, and an elven woman stepped out. Like most elves, it was difficult to judge her age just from her appearance; but Enriel perked up as she appeared, so Korik assumed it was her aunt. The woman smiled, stepping out into the garden, seemingly unphased by Korik’s presence.

“Enriel!” the woman fussed, as Enriel dismounted her horse. The older elf embraced her as she stepped closer. Now that they were next to each other, Korik could more clearly see the family resemblance: they had the same raven hair and similar smiles. “I’m so glad to see you. We were so worried when you and your brother didn’t arrive on time. Is everything alright?”

Enriel glanced over at Korik, smiling apologetically. “It’s a long story, but we’re all okay now. Aunt Laena, this is Korik, the healer traveling with us. Korik, this is my Aunt Laena.”

Korik dismounted his horse and bowed his head stiffly, unsure of how formal he needed to be. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

To his surprise, Laena stepped toward him and placed a hand on his arm—not squeezing, but her hand was warm and firm against his skin.

“Thank you so much for looking after her. Both of them. All three of them, even,” she said. “Varen wrote that you were the very healer who helped our Prince Taegan with his own child, and I almost couldn’t believe it. You honor us with your presence.”

Korik flushed, unsure of how to respond. After a beat, he stammered, “Er, I’m—I’m happy to help.”

The elf woman’s eyes crinkled with a smile, for the first time betraying the only sign of age on her face—though for an elf, lines around the eyes could indicate she was anywhere from sixty to a hundred and sixty, as far as Korik could tell.

“Let me help with the horses,” Laena said, stepping away from him. “We have space for them in the back. I’ll show you. I’ll make sure Beren brushes and feeds them before it gets too late.”

She took the reins of Enriel’s horse and gestured for them to follow, leading them on a stone path and around to the other side of the house. There were no horses of their own, it seemed; but behind the house was an open area with several trees, a small pond, and a grassy patch with a paddock.

When the horses were set up with food and water, Laena took them back around to the front of the house, and they stepped inside. The elven home was made of a warm golden-toned wood that suffused the space, giving it all a honeyed glow. The door opened straight into a large room with several chairs set about a soft rug, and further back was a small kitchen where Korik could see that an elven man was cooking. Like Laena, his age was all but impossible to determine, but his neatly groomed facial hair was a surprise that made him appear older.

He seemed of heartier stock than most elves Korik had seen. He was tall for an elf with a broad chest and thick limbs; and for a beat, Korik thought he might have actually been a human until he saw the pointed tips of his ears. But they had a more blunted, short quality than the longer, elegant swoops of other elf ears he’d seen—a half elf, Korik realized, which were not terribly uncommon.

The man smiled as they entered, set down his cooking tools, and wiped his hands with a cloth before stepping over to them.

“Hello, dearest,” he said warmly, as he approached Enriel and pulled her into a hug. “I hope there wasn’t any trouble. Your aunt and I were worried.”

“There was a bit of trouble,” Enriel admitted, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “But once Varen gets here, I’ll let him tell the story. We’re all okay now, though.”

“The baby too?” he asked, brows furrowing with concern.

“Baby too,” Enriel laughed. “Healer Korik made sure of it.”

The man’s eyes landed on Korik, and he smiled again, bowing his head politely.

“Thank you for joining us today, Healer Korik, and for taking care of our niece,” he said. “I’m Beren. Please make yourself comfortable while in our home.”

“Thank you,” Korik replied stiffly, bowing his head.

“Come sit down,” Laena offered, gesturing to the chairs. “I’ll get you both some tea. I’m sure you must be tired. Do you know when Varen will get here?”