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Chapter Thirty-Two

Korik

In reality, the journey back to Drol Kuggradh would be fairly short. There was a path to follow, muddy as it was; they had horses to ride, scouts to guide them, and more than enough provisions to be satiated with every meal.

It should have been a breeze. Yet Korik felt miserable the entire time. At best, he observed the scenery with cool indifference; but often he stared straight ahead, not really seeing what was before them, and stewed in his despondent thoughts.

Having Varen so close was causing him all this misery, he decided. Every time he saw the elf with his smug face, and his raven hair, and the elegant way he rode his horse, it brought him right back to the moment Varen made clear that everything between them meant nothing to him, when it had been so special to Korik.

If you're that worried about it, we don’t ever have to see each other again. Varen’s words turned over and over in his thoughts. Maybe it would be best never to see him again. That was the only way he could move on. It confirmed that his decision to leave Drol Kuggradh was the right one.

The more he thought about it, the less confident he felt about joining Rhagir’s clan—really, he mostly dreaded the prospect of going back to the Krag Gabriz, where memories of his and Varen’s time together would haunt him. He told himself it was a vast mountain range, and for all the time it took them, they had seen only a miniscule amount of it; and if it still proved too unpleasant, he could find a different clan to join. On the other hand, K’lir would be at home there, and by now Korik was resolute in his decision to raise the kit; and the mountain clan had given him a standing invitation. He would never have given it any thought then, but now he was grateful Rhagir had been so friendly, quickly recognizing what he was and how her clan could use his skills.

Somewhere he’d be remembered and appreciated. Maybe that alone would be worth it.

So he kept himself busy planning how he would pack up his belongings, what he could sell or leave behind, who he would tell he was leaving—repeating the plan over and over in his head, trying to think of anything he might be missing. He had all sorts of herbs and medicines, more than he could travel with; he ran through the list a hundred times or more, deciding which were crucial, which he would need the most of, which he could get away without. How did other healers deal with carrying all their supplies when they were part of a clan? He tried to remember how his father did it, back when he was a child traveling with a clan; but it was something a child would never have considered or cared about, and he came up empty.

But he would figure something out. Even if he could only take what he could physically carry, his magic would do a lot of the heavy lifting.

They had actual tents again, one for each of them, so when they set up camp in the evening, it was in a circle around the campfire. Sometimes he and Varen were across from each other, and sometimes next to each other; but Korik still did his best to ignore the elf until he could retreat to his tent. It was only a small measure of privacy, but better than none at all.

K’lir, the little traitor, would still often amble over to Varen in the evenings for scratches and pets, even warming up to the other two elves. But he always came back to Korik to sleep in his tent, curling up under the blankets with him; more than once, Korik fell asleep to the sound of the cat purring. His presence was the only thing about the entire journey that Korik enjoyed.

He had been keeping up with the training Myrla showed him as well as he could, though when they were in the privacy of his tent, Korik would use his magic to touch the kit’s mind directly. It was mostly to get K’lir used to it; but he would often praise the kit for doing well that day, or try to better explain things he had not understood. Now, K’lir didn’t seem bothered by the sensation at all and would sometimes even come to Korik in the evening as if expecting it—their own little ritual.

On the fifth day, Drol Kuggradh came into sight: the shape of the only orc city was unmistakable in the distance. The journey was over, Korik thought with relief, and he would finally be free of Varen’s presence for good.

As the city became more defined, they spotted someone leaving the city gates and heading toward them—another elf, on horseback. The elf approached rapidly, meeting them on the road. Varen and Lyielle had gone ahead a bit to meet the scout, but were still close enough that Korik could just overhear their conversation.

“Commander Petkas,” the scout said, clearly recognizing Varen. “We’ve been searching for you.”

“I hope I didn’t worry you all too much,” Varen replied, and Korik could all but hear the smirk in his voice. “Healer Korik and I had some mishaps, but we’ve made it back.”

“The king will want to see you right away,” the scout said, nodding. “I’ll ride ahead and alert King Zorvut that you’ve returned.”

“And speak with the quartermaster too, please, so rooms in the barracks are ready for Ranger Lyielle and Junior Scout Taneas here,” Varen said. “They’ve come all the way from Solitude with us, and deserve a few days’ rest before heading back, I think.”

“Solitude?” the elf repeated, surprised. “I mean—of course. Commander.”

He gave a brief salute, then turned his horse around and galloped back toward the city.

Korik heard Varen sigh. “Back to reality,” the elf said, sounding... Disappointed? Sad? It was hard to tell, especially from a distance.

They continued on their way. The gates were open to them as they arrived; they dismounted their horses, and Varen turned around to look first at the elf scout, then at Korik.

“Healer Korik and I will go on ahead,” Varen said stiffly. “Lyielle, Taneas, please report to the quartermaster. I’ll meet with you both later.”

“Yes, Commander,” Lyielle said smoothly, gesturing for Taneas to follow her. The pair headed toward the barracks.

Varen looked at him, his mouth working as if he might speak—so Korik strode past him before he could get the words out.

“Come on,” he said faintly, not turning back. After a beat, he heard the elf’s footsteps hurrying after him. Korik kept up the pace until he arrived at the tower, where the king would be expecting them. An elf standing guard stepped forward to meet them, and only then did Korik pause long enough to let Varen stand beside him.

“Commander. Healer,” the guard said, bowing his head to them both. “King Zorvut and Prince Taegan are ready for you in the conference room. Follow me, please.”

Korik let Varen get ahead of him now, trailing behind as they followed the guard into the tower. The conference room was on the first floor behind a sturdy wooden door; an orc standing guard pushed the door open and gestured for them to enter.

The king and the prince were sitting on the far side of a long, heavy table with a world map stretched across it, two empty chairs waiting for them on the closer side of the table. They both looked over at Varen and Korik as they entered. King Zorvut had a weary expression, while Taegan offered a smile when his eyes landed on Korik.

“Commander Petkas,” King Zorvut said, gesturing for them to sit. Varen bowed his head before sitting down; Korik did the same, ignoring how close they sat together. “Healer Korik. I’m relieved you’ve both found your way back to Drol Kuggradh. Unharmed, I hope?”

“Thank you, King Zorvut,” Varen replied, his voice even. “Luckily, yes, we are unharmed.”

Korik nodded silently.

“The last report I have from you indicates you had tracked the rebellion’s primary camp and were closing in on them in the west,” King Zorvut said. Korik stopped himself from frowning—had he ever seen Varen sending reports back? There must have been some sort of elven magic at work, as surely he would have noticed paper missives being sent by raven. “What happened after that?”

“Before we left Castle Aefraya, the sorcerer we rescued gave me a teleportation rune,” Varen replied. “He told me to use it if I ever needed to make a quick getaway. Unfortunately, we were spotted as we approached the rebel camp, and we tried to flee but weren’t able to escape. So I used the teleportation rune to try and get us back here, but... My magical ability is apparently lacking, as we ended up quite far from our destination.”

“Is it true you came from Solitude?” Prince Taegan asked, speaking up for the first time.

“Yes, my prince,” Varen answered. “We were teleported to the mountains of Krag Gabriz. Solitude was the closest place we could reach, so we made our way there. It was slow going, but we did eventually make it.”

Korik listened as Varen recounted their journey: the storm that kept them holed up for days, their slow journey down the mountain, and the hot springs, where they rested before continuing toward Solitude. He explained how they found the razorfang kittens along the way, and left one with the Master of Hounds at Solitude, where they regrouped and resupplied before making the final stretch of the journey back to Drol Kuggradh.

He said nothing about their brief encounter with the mountain clan. He said nothing about how Korik’s abilities allowed them to track the camp and guide them safely down the mountain. It had been the same when Varen had explained their adventure to the commander in Solitude; begrudgingly, Korik was thankful that Varen still upheld his promise about Korik’s powers, even in front of the orc king. He didn’t think it would have mattered if Varen had mentioned meeting the mountain clan, but he supposed it was decent of him to respect their privacy in such tumultuous times.

Finally, Varen’s story concluded, and for a moment, they sat in silence. King Zorvut looked pensively down at the map spread before them, while Prince Taegan was looking sidelong at the king.

“I am glad you made it back safely,” the king finally said. “You both displayed great resourcefulness and determination in facing such a predicament. Your skills as head ranger remain impressive as ever, Commander Petkas. And Healer Korik, I commend you on your bravery. I know this situation has gone far beyond what was initially asked of you, but you have stuck it through to the end. Thank you.”

Korik flushed, bowing his head. “Glad to help,” he said stiffly, unsure of what else to say. Luckily, it seemed no one expected him to say more, as the king spoke again.

“The news is recent and hasn’t spread far, so I doubt you have heard this, Commander,” he continued, now addressing Varen once more. “But between the information you provided and some further assistance from the High Sorcerers in Aefraya, we were able to locate the rebel camp you were tracking and have mostly taken them to heel. A few… outliers are still being flushed out, but the primary host has been scattered, and all elven prisoners have been freed.”

Varen sucked in a sharp breath, then sighed. “That is a relief to hear. I’m glad we could help. And if more needs to be done, I’m ready to go back out at a word from you.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” King Zorvut replied, shaking his head. “But you will be among the first to know if anything changes.”

There was a beat of silence, then the prince spoke.

“I’m sure you’re relieved to be home after all this, Healer Korik,” Prince Taegan offered. Korik nodded.

“I am,” he agreed—then hesitated, thinking it would be prudent to tell the prince of his intentions now, rather than take him by surprise later on. “I... do wish to inform you of my intention to leave Drol Kuggradh in the coming weeks.”

He felt, more than saw, Varen’s head turn toward him quickly, but Korik kept his gaze firmly down at the table.

“Oh?” Prince Taegan said, also sounding surprised. “Is this a temporary leave, or...?”

Korik steeled himself, then shook his head. “No, Prince Taegan. My apologies. Traveling has made me... miss my former clan. Being in the wilderness. I’ve decided to join back up for a time. But I do not know how long, exactly.”

“I see,” the prince said. “I don’t suppose there’s any way to change your mind? Zorvut and I have been very pleased with your service to us. Nahara likes you best of all the physicians, and we do hope to have more children, sooner rather than later...”

He felt some guilt at that, but his mind was made up. “I’m sorry, Prince Taegan. King Zorvut. But the roads are safer by the day, especially if the rebellion is quelled. I’m sure an elven physician would be just as suitable in the future and simple to procure.”

For a moment, they were all silent. Taegan and the king glanced at each other, some unspoken conversation happening between them. Then, King Zorvut chuckled, which was a relief to hear. The young king had never been quick to anger and did not seem the type to force the matter; but some small part of Korik still worried he might be ordered to stay, even against his will.

“We will be sorry to see you go,” the king said. He lightly squeezed Prince Taegan’s hand in a soothing gesture. “But I understand. You are, of course, free to roam as you wish. If you ever decide to return to Drol Kuggradh, though, there will always be a place for you here.”

Prince Taegan nodded in agreement. Korik bowed his head slightly, his hair falling in front of his face with the movement.

“Thank you both,” he said. He could still feel the weight of Varen’s gaze on him, but he kept his head down.

“If that’s all, then,” King Zorvut said. When neither he nor Varen spoke, he waved his hand in dismissal. “Get some rest, both of you. You’ve certainly earned it.”

Korik stood and bowed, then turned away. He could hear Varen trailing just behind him, and the sound of the heavy wooden door closing.

“Korik,” Varen said, his voice impossibly loud in the now-empty foyer. Korik cringed, but his feet stopped moving of their own accord. He turned back.

Varen was looking at him with his brows furrowed, a slight flush to his cheeks. His mouth worked silently again for a moment, long enough that Korik nearly turned back around. “Is that truly your intention? You’re going to leave?”

“Yes,” Korik answered, as plainly and neutrally as he could manage, but still Varen flinched.

“Where will you go?” he asked, frowning.

The frustration in Korik’s chest flared anew at that. He had been holding it together quite well, all things considered, but now Varen had the gall to be disturbed by his plans to leave?

“Why do you care?” he retorted, scowling. “You said we do not ever have to see each other again. I am ensuring it.”

Varen’s expression crumbled. He turned away from Korik as his brows somehow furrowed deeper. At least he had the decency to look ashamed—to look just as hurt as Korik had been, when it was Varen saying those words to him.

The elf did not respond, stricken. Korik gave him one last look—hating how his heart still ached to see Varen’s obvious displeasure—then turned away.

“Goodbye, Commander,” he forced out. “I... I wish you well in your future endeavors.”

He did not wait for Varen to respond, and instead hurried for the door out into the courtyard. He did not stop until he was back on the streets of Drol Kuggradh, halfway to his shop, before finally looking up from the stone paths beneath his feet and pausing to get his bearings.

An orc merchant was passing him on the other side of the path, followed by two laborers carrying large stacks of lumber. They glanced curiously at Korik as they walked past, but otherwise said nothing. After so long around elves, it felt almost strange to see other orcs going about their lives around him.

But soon he would never have to see another elf again. The thought brought him no relief as he continued on his way home.

“ You’re back?” The recognition from Roz hit him all at once, as he turned down the cobblestone street of his shop. That, finally, caused him to smile. He was close enough to sense Roz—he was truly home.

“ I’m back ,” he thought in return, feeling a flood of emotion from her—relief and irritation and happiness all at once. “ I’m bringing a friend. Get along with him. ”

“ Maybe ,” came the response, and he stifled a chuckle. K’lir had been quiet, observing with his little head poking out of the collar of Korik’s tunic. He was sure Roz would tolerate him; he would just have to make sure K’lir got along with her.

The shop looked fine as he approached, which was a relief; he doubted anyone would have really tried vandalizing or stealing, but the thought had crossed his mind occasionally the longer he was gone. Roz was waiting for him just outside the door, her tail flicking; but when she rose to greet him, she stretched and meowed loudly, her tail standing straight up as she approached. He felt K’lir tense, and the little kit hissed—Roz’s ears flattened and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“None of that,” Korik reprimanded, lightly touching the kit’s forehead to connect with his magic. “Roz is your friend. Be nice.”

K’lir grumbled, but did not hiss again.

“ A baby ,” Roz thought, still looking at him with suspicion. “ Let me see. ”

Korik pulled the kit out from where he was bundled up. K’lir tried to crawl back in, but Korik set him down on the ground before he could. When they were side by side, the kit was very nearly the same size as Roz; the calico cat shot him an annoyed look when he had the thought, which made him chuckle. The two cats sniffed at each other, then Roz turned away with a flick of her tail and jumped back up onto one of the raised flowerbeds, leaving the kitten to look up at her from below.

“ Cute ,” she decreed, and Korik reached to scratch her ears as he moved to unlock the door. She butted his hand with her head; and before he knew it, he had picked her up and was cradling her up to his face. She purred, the vibrations tickling his chin where it was nestled near her belly. Her scent was familiar and warm, the smell of home. One paw curled against the back of his neck as she licked near his ear. “ How could you manage so long without me?"

“I don’t know,” Korik sighed, shaking his head. His eyes burned with tears. He might have cuddled the cat for longer if left to his own devices; but at his feet, K’lir meowed in jealousy and batted at the leg of his trousers, trying to crawl back up to his coveted spot. He managed a laugh and released Roz, wiping his eyes with one hand while he reached down with the other to pat K’lir in a soothing motion. “Alright, alright. Let’s get inside.”