Page 38

Varen

Two Years Later

“We’ve already got one, Varen,” Rhagir whispered, staying crouched next to him in the brush. Varen didn’t look at her, his eyes remaining locked on the grazing buck in the field below. He breathed in slowly, the cold air sharp in his lungs. The slight tension of the bowstring in his fingers felt as familiar as his breath, and he knew when he pulled back to shoot that his aim would be as true as ever.

“I can get it,” Varen breathed out, steam emanating from the words. “This one is bigger.”

Rhagir made a softly irritated noise, but said nothing more, remaining motionless beside him as they waited.

His patience paid off, though; only a moment later the buck lifted its head, peering off into the distance long enough for Varen to pull back and release the arrow straight into its skull. The creature collapsed instantly, dead before it hit the ground. Rhagir let out a delighted laugh, straightening up quickly.

“You’d think I’d learn my lesson by now,” she snorted, extending a hand to help him up. He smirked as she hauled him to his feet, gritting his teeth at her powerful grip.

“I told you,” he replied with a chuckle. They made their way down the hillside to retrieve the elk. “You’ll stop underestimating me someday soon, I hope.”

She laughed again, chagrined. “Perhaps someday.”

When he and Korik had first joined her clan, her ribbing had irritated him. Now, though, it had been long enough that he had heard her teasing everyone else in the clan, so he knew it was just how she showed affection, with no true malice behind her words. He supposed he was much the same way, so he couldn’t be too annoyed. She was a skilled hunter in her own right, so they had spent a lot of time together in the past two years that he’d been traveling with her clan.

“I’m just glad you’re well enough to hunt,” she continued, grinning salaciously at the embarrassed flush that rose in his face. “We missed you last month.”

“I know you did. That’s why all we had was rabbit stew for weeks,” he countered. His first heat since joining the clan had come upon him just over a month ago. What was a routine but private part of elven life had been a source of some worry and uncertainty for the orcs at first, but once they’d learned his health was in no danger, he’d had to quickly adjust to the teasing about mating season .

Rhagir laughed at his quip, quickly occupying herself with cleaning the carcass. Varen helped, but his focus was on the butterflies in his stomach at the reminder of his recent heat.

Korik had been checking him daily in the weeks since, using his magic to track the changes in Varen’s body, and only a week ago had confirmed what they both suspected. He was pregnant.

His face flushed and his heart raced every time the thought returned to him. Gods willing, this time next year, they would have a child. Equal parts anxiety and joy and anticipation rushed through him whenever he remembered it, and his mind had returned to it many times in the past week.

With it being so early, they had not told anyone, so nothing had changed yet, as far as his duties within the clan. But he knew it wouldn’t be the case for long, so he hoarded all the stolen joyful moments where he could, reveling in their secret knowledge and anticipation before it was shared.

His thoughts were not without worry, of course. Elves could bear children well into their second century—his parents had been older than he was now when Caedes was born—but it was less common; and like other species, the older the parent, the riskier the pregnancy could be. But he would never be any younger, and Korik was a physician. The risks were mitigated as well as they could be, so he tried to keep his concern to a minimum.

“I got it,” Rhagir grunted, and Varen watched as she hauled the entire buck into her arms, slinging it over one shoulder. “Oof, this one’s heavy. Great eye, Varen. We’ll all be having venison steaks tonight for sure.”

He grinned up at her. There was some benefit to being the smallest member of the clan; he never had to do any heavy lifting.

Together they trudged back up the hill and rejoined the other orcs in their hunting party—Zent and Krina, a couple Korik’s age, and Breks, a young man who had joined up with their clan the previous summer. They had brought down several quail so far today, and one other elk laid out on their sled—with this second elk, Varen knew the clan would be eating well for weeks.

The clan had grown even since Korik and Varen had joined. Zent and Krina had welcomed their third daughter just a few months after they joined the clan; and a few other young adults had joined up along with Breks after a dispute with their original clan. What had been a group of only twenty was now approaching thirty. Rhagir was very pleased.

“Look at what Varen felled,” Rhagir bragged as she deposited the second elk onto the sled.

“Good eye,” Zent said to him. “I would have sworn we’d flushed out everything in the area.”

“Thanks, Varen,” Breks added. “I was getting sick of rabbit stew.”

“You and me both,” Varen laughed.

In the weeks it had taken him and Korik to reach the Krag Gabriz mountains and find the clan, he had been worried that even if they allowed them both to join, he would never fit in. And for the first month or so, it had been a bit uncomfortable, as the orcs adjusted to having an elf in their midst. Moreover, Varen’s poor orcish made him feel even more like an outsider for some time; but Korik had practiced with him every day, and Varen forced himself to be out amongst the orcs instead of hiding away in their tent. Now, he felt just as at home with the clan as he had in any elven outpost. As far as retirement plans went, his was certainly unconventional, but he’d come to love it fiercely.

They made the long trek back to where the camp was set up. The last dregs of winter were melting away, and soon they would be on the road again; but for the past few months, they had been camped at the hot springs again. It was, he had to admit, an ideal place to spend the winter. But like many in the clan, he too was feeling the itch to pack up and be on their way. He hadn’t anticipated just how much he would come to enjoy the constant travel, but the mountains were stunningly beautiful, which meant every journey held something different and wonderful.

That, more than anything, made him feel like he had truly acclimated—that he really belonged with the clan. It had been a relief when he’d realized even last winter that he genuinely had no desire to return to Drol Kuggradh, nor any elven cities.

Still, now that they were going to have a child, Varen found himself thinking of the rituals of elven marriage now more than ever. He and Korik had never really discussed it—marriage was more a social contract within orcish culture, so as far as orcs were concerned, they were already as good as married. But he wondered often how different things might be if they shared the marriage bond, the closeness of being able to truly touch and know the other’s mind.

Maybe once the baby came. That was still far off, of course, but maybe then.

The camp came into sight, pulling him from his thoughts. Colorful tents were set up all around the hot springs, with one big campfire near the center that served as a sort of town square—a hub for social interaction, cooking, and relaxing. The group of hunters stopped at the edge of camp, preparing to finish the process of cleaning and distributing the meat; but Varen took a few steps further, spotting Korik at the campfire.

He was with Dekir, his student. A smile spread across Varen’s face upon seeing them together. He could not hear them from this distance, but he could see Korik talking to the boy, instructing him. As he watched, Korik waved one hand beside the fire, gathering up some of the flame, which condensed into a ball in his palm. He held it for a moment, still speaking to Dekir before it winked out of existence, then he gestured for the boy to do the same. It took a few tries, but Dekir repeated the movement until a small, flickering handful of flame appeared in his grasp. It faded quickly, but he grinned up at Korik, who gave an approving nod.

Korik had proven to be a great teacher for the boy. They had an almost parental relationship, too—Dekir was an orphan, and while it was not uncommon for the entire clan to be involved with raising children, the pair shared their druidic gift, which had elicited a fatherly protectiveness in Korik.

Varen hoped their child would inherit his gift, too. He could see it clearly in his mind: Korik so diligently teaching and guiding a smaller orc child, with dark hair and pointed elven ears—

Gods, they’d only known for a week, and already he was becoming a sentimental fool. He shook himself from his stupor and returned to the hunters, pulling his knife from his belt to help with the rest of the butchering.

A few other orcs had approached, seeing the hunting party had returned with more than usual. Soon, skinning and cleaning both elk became a communal task, the hides being ferried off to the tanner as the cuts of meat were carefully made and distributed amongst the clan members.

Varen felt Korik beside him before seeing him; he looked up to see his partner looking fondly at him.

“Let me help,” Korik said, gesturing for Varen to step aside so Korik could take his place. Normally, Varen would insist on finishing his task himself, but he had to admit that he liked how doting Korik had been in the past few days. He smiled and handed Korik his hunting knife.

Some of the venison had been taken to the campfire, the smell of roasting meat already in the air. He could see other orcs bringing out baskets of onions, carrots, and potatoes that had been gathered before winter; his mouth watered, thinking of the feast that they would have that night.

“How are you feeling?” Korik asked as he entered their tent later that night. Varen grinned up at him from where he was relaxing on their bed. Roz was curled up beside him, purring away—he sat up as Korik approached, and she hopped down when he moved. She stretched and joined K’lir, where he was sleeping at the foot of their bed.

“I’m fine,” Varen replied, shaking his head. Korik had made a point to tell him to be careful when he’d set out with the hunting party early that morning—to not exert himself too much, nor too often. “Great, even. I promise.”

Korik smiled as he knelt down beside Varen and leaned in to kiss him.

“I just worry about you,” he said softly.

“I know,” Varen replied, still smiling. “You don’t need to worry, though.”

Korik’s hand lightly touched his stomach. “May I?”

Varen grabbed his wrist, hesitating. “I wanted to ask you something first.”

Korik blinked in surprise, but nodded and settled into a more comfortable sitting position beside him.

“I was thinking,” Varen continued, feeling warmth rising in his face. “If we’re going to be parents, then... I was wondering what you thought about, well, getting married. In the elven way.”

Korik froze, clearly not expecting the question. But then a small, nervous smile spread around his tusks as he squeezed Varen’s hand.

“You mean the marriage bond,” he said. Varen nodded. “If that’s what you want, then yes. Of course.”

Varen felt himself grinning, despite his heart still hammering with nerves. “Are you sure?”

Korik laughed, filling Varen’s chest with warmth. His partner was quiet and stoic, and while he smiled often with Varen, his laugh was a rarer sound—one that Varen loved to hear every time.

“I’m sure,” he said, then leaned down to kiss Varen again. When they parted, Korik’s golden eyes were bright. “You know how committed I am to you. If you want to be bonded, I want it, too.”

“I do want it,” Varen said softly. “I had been thinking about it for a little while now, but... All this has made me realize how much I want to be bonded to you.”

“Then we’ll do it,” Korik said simply. “Even if we have to leave the clan for a time to find an elf to do it. Whether it’s in Drol Kuggradh, or if we have to go to Aefraya, whatever you want.”

Varen only smiled up at him, his heart feeling full to bursting. Why had he ever been nervous to ask? Had he really doubted that Korik would want the same thing? The thought of their minds being linked through magic was off-putting to some, but Korik’s own magical ability was so strong, he supposed it wasn’t that different from his own druidic abilities. If anything, the bond was like a rudimentary version of how he could inhabit the minds of other creatures. Of course he would not have denied Varen.

“I love you,” he said, wrapping his arms around Korik’s neck. The orc embraced him tightly until his pounding heart slowed back to a calmer rhythm.

“I love you too,” Korik replied. When they parted, the orc had a small, pleased smile on his face. “Now will you let me check?”

Varen laughed and leaned back, tugging one of Korik’s hands to place it on his stomach. Korik still held him with one arm as he felt the magic wash over him. It was a strange, but warm feeling; it passed over his whole body first, even though Korik’s hand was on his stomach, then condensed all down to a deep, low place in his belly—the sensation of Korik cradling the tiny place in him where their child was growing.

“Any different today?” he whispered. Korik smiled, then shook his head.

“No difference yet,” he said. “But it is there.”

Varen leaned closer to him, blissfully content in his lover’s arms. They would be bonded. They would have a child . Sometimes it still didn’t feel real, yet he didn’t miss any part of their old life.

They were both right where they belonged.

THE END