Page 6

Chapter Five

Korik

After a day of following the orcs, Korik decided he much preferred the chatty Varen after all. He had been silent almost the whole day, and Korik couldn’t tell if he was sulking, or planning, or in the throes of despair.

Luckily, the orcs had slowed their pace, clearly believing they had shaken Varen and Korik off their trail. Each time he checked, Enriel’s arms were still bound behind her back, and she was gagged. They had allowed her to ride her own horse, but had it tethered between the others, so the whole pack travelled at the gelding’s pace. Korik and Varen weren’t gaining any ground on them, but they weren’t pulling as far ahead as Korik had feared, either.

The surrounding landscape was at times densely wooded, or else open and rocky. The orcs were leading them in a northwest direction, further back into the orc wildlands where Korik had never been. If not for the heavy pit of worry at the bottom of his stomach, he would have enjoyed the scenery more. Still, he thought it was one of the more beautiful landscapes that he’d seen in his life.

It had been many years since he’d ventured past the walls of Drol Kuggradh. Seeing the untamed wilderness gave him a better understanding of why so many of his kind spent their lives out here, far from the confines of civilization, despite the safety and routine it provided. It was open and wild and free —an inappropriate and uncomfortable thought, considering why they were here in the first place. Still, he had little else to do with his time other than observe their surroundings, and couldn’t deny the sublime landscapes around them.

Varen, of course, seemed to have no such appreciation. He seldom spoke, and his eyes remained fixed straight ahead as they tramped up rocky hillsides and wove through tall, thick trees. His displeasure was obvious, but it also meant that Korik could actually look at the elf without getting a raised eyebrow or prodding question in response.

He was pretty—as all elves were pretty, of course. After two years of being surrounded by elves, it was hard not to think so. But the dappled light through the leaves above them caught his hazel eyes or raven hair, and it gave him a certain glow that sometimes made Korik’s heart squeeze in his chest. Not with worry or anxiety for Enriel, but something else, something he couldn’t name.

But who didn’t enjoy looking at pretty things, like the landscape or an elf? Maybe it was all the walking that was making his heart beat a little too fast, the novelty of it all drawing his gaze.

The evening was the same. When the sun began to set, they found a suitable place to rest. Korik had enough energy left to spy on Enriel and the poacher orcs one last time; from the vantage point of an owl high above, he could see that they too were making camp about five miles north. Enriel looked the same, though it was hard to tell from this height—but there were no obvious signs of injury or blood.

“You’re sure?” Varen pressed when he reported what he saw.

“I’m sure,” he replied. “I don’t think they intend to harm her. And the others, I only caught glimpses, but... they seemed mostly unharmed as well.”

Varen sighed, but said no more on the matter. He sat looking down at the ground with his forehead propped on one hand for a while; then eventually he forced down a piece of bread with cheese, drank from his waterskin, and laid down on his bedroll.

The next day was more of the same, though the landscape was more rocky fields than forest now. It was mostly desolate, and so open that the orcs with their mounts managed to gain some distance on them today. Most of the creatures Korik found were small animals that lived in the ground or amongst the rocks: mice and shrews and small birds. He was only able to catch sight of the poachers three times that day, and each time was through the eyes of a hawk—twice the same hawk, which was quite disturbed by the repeated intrusion. He was less sure of what he could see, but still reported it was all much the same.

Halfway through the third day, Korik was spying on the poachers through another, very annoyed hawk. He was high above them, barely able to make out enough details to discern if Enriel was still alright. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something in the distance. He urged the hawk to turn toward it; the creature circled a few times, which allowed Korik to catch a glimpse of what looked like tents to the north.

It was only a handful, too far and too unfocused for Korik to count. He always felt guilty trying to force an animal to do something it so clearly did not want to do, so he tried only once to urge it in that direction again; when it resisted, he didn’t push it any further. From the memories he had gleaned from the horses, there was a camp much larger than this—though it was hard to judge if it might have been somewhere unrelated from long ago, or if this was yet another offshoot of a larger force.

“They’re almost at a camp,” Korik said when he dropped out of the hawk, stumbling back into his own awareness. “It doesn’t seem very big, though. I couldn’t get a good look, but I doubt it’s more than ten tents.”

Varen frowned, considering for a long moment before responding. “We’ll need to be careful approaching, regardless. Once we can get a better look at what we’re dealing with, we can make a plan. Did it look like they’ll reach it today?”

“Before nightfall, yes,” Korik replied.

“Hopefully there’ll still be light out so we can see better,” Varen sighed. “Come on, then. We need to keep an eye out for scouts.”

By sunset, Enriel and her captors had joined the larger camp of orcs; Korik and Varen observed from about a mile away. The smoke of their campfires streaked the darkening sky, which gave Korik a better estimation of how many they truly numbered. He was sure it was no more than twenty orcs, and definitely not the greater encampment he had seen in the horse’s memories. It made him wonder again what was going on, whether this was part of some grander scheme—but he had little time for speculation.

Now that they were this close, Varen was insufferable in his worry and frustration. He could only go off of what Korik told him, which was clearly driving him mad.

“Do you think we’ll be able to approach from this direction?” Varen pressed, after Korik had described the camp as well as he could. “Should we be trying to get around from another side?”

Korik closed his eyes to better visualize what he’d seen again. It wasn’t like he’d been able to observe it well from a single viewpoint; it was hard to judge direction as a bird high above, swooping and spiraling in the wind.

“I think the prisoners were being kept more to the north,” he finally said, but he could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. Varen seemed to deflate, looking away.

“I need to get a look at this camp before we decide on anything,” he sighed. “We have to get closer.”

Korik’s heart leapt up into his throat at the suggestion. “I don’t think it’s safe to get any closer.”

To his surprise—and frustration—Varen laughed. All the worry and stress that had been obvious on his face seemed to vanish for just a brief moment as he smirked up at Korik.

“I suppose you haven’t seen me in action,” he said, a familiar swagger temporarily returning to his voice. Korik felt heat rising in his own face. “Don’t worry. I won’t be seen. If you’re worried, stay here. But I need to scout this out.”

He paused, expression sobering again when Korik appeared unconvinced. “Or you could always just keep an eye on me from the sky. Or wherever.”

Korik’s brow furrowed. The thought of Varen scouting ahead alone made his heart pound with anxiety; but if he sent his consciousness into an animal to monitor him, then his own body would remain out in the open, alone and unguarded. A few brief moments of it, he would probably be safe enough, but however long it would take for Varen to scout was another matter entirely.

Plus, he had no idea if Varen was truly so stealthy that he could approach without attracting any attention. He had seen Varen briefly use his magic to silence himself, but had witnessed little of the elf’s abilities beyond those panicked moments.

“I will wait here,” Korik said. The words felt heavy and acrid on his tongue, but he had no better offer. “I will try and keep an eye on you as much as I can. But I don’t want to linger too long unprotected.”

Something in Varen’s eyes seemed to shift, soften somehow. It was hard to place, and Korik was half-sure that he imagined it.

“I understand,” the elf sighed, turning away. “I don’t want you to get caught unawares, either. Take care of yourself first. I’ll be fine. These orcs are sloppy for kidnappers, all things considered. They’ll never notice me.”

“Sloppy?” Korik echoed, unsure. But Varen didn’t clarify. Instead, that arrogant smirk returned as he looked back up at Korik once more.

“In fact, I’ll bet on it,” he chuckled. “Wager you twenty gold I can get there and back without them, or you, noticing me.”

“No,” Korik replied flatly, and Varen laughed again.

“Fine, fine,” he said, turning away. “I’ll be back after it’s dark. No more than three hours, I think. Stay here.”

Korik nodded, already tense with nerves. Three hours seemed like an eternity to wait, yet hardly enough time to gather enough information to make a plan with any real chance of success. Though he had to admit that he had no experience with anything like this. Maybe all of Varen’s boasting wasn’t entirely baseless. Korik had to hope it was so.

He watched Varen cast the same spell to silence his steps—he would have to remember to ask the elf to show him how to do it—then he slipped away into the trees. After only a moment, Korik could no longer see him amidst the foliage.

What would he do if Varen didn’t come back? Bile rose in his throat at the thought. He would be alone in the wilderness, weeks away from his home. But Varen had been so confident. He would come back—he had to.

Korik spent several minutes waiting in silence, hyper-focused on the sound of his heart thudding in his chest. He forced himself to breathe in a slow, steady rhythm. If he were panicking, his magic would only deplete faster—and he had been struggling to rest well enough to replenish his reserves, so he needed to be judicious. When his heart was beating at a normal pace again, he lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged with his hands spread wide against the earth.

For a moment he only sat there, feeling the thrum of life faintly pulsing against him. With his magic pressed just to the perimeters of his own awareness without leaving his body, he could feel the deep reserves of natural magic beneath the earth drawn to him like a magnet.

It was said the latent magic found within nature was powered by the countless souls of departed orcs from ages past, fighting endless battles impossibly deep beneath the surface, so their spirits might give back to the land that had sustained them in life. Often, the thought had made Korik unsettled, but now it comforted him: the possibility that his ancestors might have any awareness of his existence and could watch over him, so he was not completely alone here in the wilderness.

With a silent plea for protection, he slipped out of himself, suffusing through the soil around him and reaching outward in all directions—stretching up, up, until he snagged against another creature. A lone bird, too small to be a bird of prey, perhaps a finch or a cardinal; it was hard to tell without others of its kind nearby. It was simple for Korik to commandeer it, though, and he turned the little bird in swooping circles until he caught sight of his own body on the ground far below to orient himself. Then he darted in the direction Varen had gone, eyes scanning between the trees for any sign of the elf.

He could find no trace of Varen; he wasn’t sure if that was a relief or another worry. Instead, he turned the little bird in the direction of the orc camp again to scan its perimeter. Now he flew low, flitting between the trees, still looking for Varen as he closed in on the camp.

Finally, he perched in a tree near the camp’s outer perimeter and observed as best he could. Part of the camp was in a wide clearing, tents spaced far apart in a loose circle around a central campfire. Two orcs appeared to be preparing dinner, with several types of game skewered around the flames. Further back, he could see where the captured elves were being kept. After glancing around again for Varen unsuccessfully, he urged the little bird to leap from its tree and fly to the opposite end of the camp to get a better look.

No one seemed to notice the little bird flitting over the tents, finally landing on the tree where the elves had congregated. This close, he could now see that they were all bound at the wrist; some were lashed directly to the tree, while others were connected to other elves. Some were bound by chains, but most were tied only by rope.

He counted seven elves; Enriel was among them, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest and her back to the tree. Two other elves were beside her, both women, and they seemed to be conversing in low, whispered tones. She looked uninjured, which was a good sign.

He still didn’t see Varen anywhere. The little bird’s heart beat even faster in response to his irritation, so he tamped it down as best he could and sent the bird into flight once again. It had been long enough now that surely Varen had gotten close enough to observe the camp, hadn’t it?

On his third patrol around the camp, he caught sight of movement in the trees further away. Swooping toward it, he could tell it was Varen, and an unexpected relief flooded him. The elf had made it safely, and seemed completely undetected so far. He was perched in a thick tree, looking out toward the camp; its foliage kept him mostly camouflaged, but Korik had spotted his dark hair fluttering with the wind.

Despite the little bird’s apprehension, he darted over to Varen and landed on the branch he was crouched on, looking up at him with one eye. The elf blinked down at him silently for a beat, surprised, then chuckled.

“Is that you?” he asked in a low murmur. Korik tried to nod, but the bird only bobbed in confusion. “I suppose you can’t talk. I don’t know what I expected. If you’re Korik, come up here on my shoulder.”

Korik urged the little bird to do so, and with a flap of his wings, he was perched on Varen’s shoulder. The elf chuckled again.

“So far, so good,” he whispered. “It looks like there’s only ten orcs here at the most, and seven elves that I can see. The elves are being kept rather separate from the rest, and that tree is downhill a bit. I think we could sneak in during the night, arm whoever’s trained, and sneak everyone out. We might be able to overpower the orcs if it comes to it, though I don’t like the odds of that as much. If we approach from the north, we’ll have less chance of being spotted. I don’t think they have enough manpower to have a guard in every direction. They have someone standing watch near the elves, but that’s all I’ve noticed so far. Have you seen anything else that might help?”

He paused, then added, “Er... Chirp once for yes and two for no, I suppose.”

Two soft peeps came from the bird’s beak, and Varen sighed, nodding.

“I wouldn’t expect so,” he said. “Not like you could tell me, even if you had. Well, I’ve had no trouble getting here and don’t expect any getting back, so feel free to return whenever you want. I know you’re rather more vulnerable than I am like this.”

That was true, but something in Korik was hesitant to leave the other man. So he remained clinging to his shoulder, looking out toward the camp, though from this far he was sure that he couldn’t see as well as Varen could.

The elf’s eyes were constantly moving, though the rest of his body remained perfectly still—his lips occasionally moved slightly as he whispered to himself under his breath. Korik waited with him for several long moments where nothing at all seemed to happen, then Varen murmured a little louder,

“I’m getting down now. Hold on.” He leapt from the tree—Korik felt the wind lifting his little wings, toes curling tight to cling to Varen’s lapel—and landed silently in the grass, crouching low. The elf pulled a piece of parchment from one of his pockets and started marking it with a small charcoal stick that he pulled from a different pouch. “I’m making a map of the camp. If you want to do something useful for me, get an aerial view of the camp and let me know if this is accurate.”

If Korik could have rolled his eyes, he would have; but he acquiesced and released his grip on Varen. Wings flitting, he took to the air again and darted up until he could see the whole of the camp. It was difficult being so small, but he could see the overall shape of the camp and its broad structures.

When he returned, Varen was in the same spot. The elf turned the sketched map to Korik and asked, “Looks good?”

Korik inspected it, turning the little bird’s head from one side to the other, before trying to nod—his whole body bobbed, and Varen chuckled.

“I think that’s a yes,” he said, pocketing the parchment. “I’m going to head back soon. No need to accompany me. Keep yourself safe. I’ll find you.”

Korik regarded him for a moment longer, then released his hold on the bird. He could feel its suppressed fear and instinct to flee take over for just an instant, before he was in his own body again.

He blinked, shaking his head to clear away the disorientation. Once he could see clearly, he stood back up and turned in a slow circle, eyes scanning his surroundings for any sign of activity near him. Luckily, it seemed like he was still entirely alone. He sighed with relief before settling back down to wait for Varen to come back.

From the position of the sun in the sky, he guessed it had only been around an hour, so he had some time before the elf would return. To pass the time, Korik went back over everything he’d seen of the camp, making a mental list of as many details as he could recall, and thinking about what Varen might suggest they do. From what Varen had said, the plan was to approach the elves under the cover of night; overpower the guard before they had a chance to wake the other orcs; then flee back the way they’d come to guide the freed elves back to Aefraya with them.

But it would depend heavily on being able to take out the guard without drawing attention to themselves, which Korik felt uncertain about. Varen was a soldier, of course, but Korik was not much of a fighter. He was tall, but lanky for an orc—paired against the orc who had been standing guard, it would be no contest. Even his magic would only give him an advantage if they could surprise the guard. That part of the plan would be entirely on Varen’s shoulders.

But what was the alternative? They would never manage sneaking all the elves out without the guard eventually noticing. Korik could probably incapacitate him temporarily with his magic, but he couldn’t guarantee how long it might last.

He needed to know more about what Varen could do with his own magic, too. He had only seen Varen silence himself and augment his movement; while useful, if that was the extent of his magical ability, their options would be more limited. If he had more combat-oriented abilities, though, that could turn the odds more in their favor. And if some of the captured elves could do the same...

Korik considered his own magic and what he could do with it that might help in a fight. Since he had shown magical aptitude from a young age, he had trained very little in combat compared to the average orc born into a wandering clan; instead, he had spent his time studying under his father. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even held a blade larger than a knife, much less fought with one.

Could he control an animal well enough to compel it to attack? He had never tried, but he doubted it—generally, the bigger the creature, the more difficult it was to contain its instincts. Even the little bird he’d just used to perch on Varen’s shoulder for so long had felt palpable fear the whole time. He’d been able to ignore and suppress it easily enough; but if it were coming from a more intelligent animal, something that was a true predator? He might be able to see through its eyes, but would have little to no control over it. Plus, it would leave his own body open and vulnerable—and it would hinge entirely on such a creature being close enough to be useful.

His healing magic could be manipulated to harm someone easily enough, but he needed to have skin contact for it to work, so it was all but useless in a fight. If he were close enough to put his hand on an enemy, he was close enough to have the hand cleaved off or a sword stuck through his belly.

Korik thought of how he spread his magic through the ground to feel the latent power of the earth, wondering if he could manipulate its shape. He could maybe lift stones out of the soil and send them firing off like arrows, or maybe create walls of earth to protect or hide himself... He hadn’t tried something like that before, but he experimentally placed his hands on the ground.

The soil beneath shifted slightly at his uncertain nudging, which was a good sign. In his mind, he could see himself raising a wall of stone, shielding himself from arrows; he pulled his magic up through the earth, and the soil and stone came with it. It was more like a wave rising up, and it sent dirt and torn roots showering around him—but it worked . He stifled a grin, imagining using the same trick to trip up an attacker charging at them, or even using it to create a distraction.

Maybe he could be of some use after all.