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Chapter Seven

Korik

For a long moment, Alwyn’s declaration hung heavy in the air with no reply; the group of elves surrounding them were entirely silent. Then Korik heard Varen clear his throat—even he sounded a bit perturbed when he finally spoke.

“Efficient work, High Sorcerer,” he said faintly, then raised his voice, addressing the other elves. “Don’t go running off now. We’ll need supplies to make the trip back to Aefraya. If you’re able, come with me to gather what we can from their tents. If anyone’s good with animals, maybe see about the horses.”

“I need to sit down,” Alwyn groaned, leaning more heavily against Korik. “Put me down, please. I’ll rest until we’re ready to go.”

Korik nodded and helped him sit, aware of the bustling movement of the other elves behind him. He could sense Varen hovering near him, but ignored the elf until he was sure Alwyn wasn’t going to pass out again.

“Korik,” Varen said when he straightened again. Korik’s heart skipped a beat—what would he ask him to do this time? He hoped it wasn’t to control the horses. “Can you please check on Enriel and the baby? She’s worried about its health. I think you’re the only one who can assuage her.”

Korik blinked, processing. In all the commotion, he’d nearly forgotten poor Enriel.

“Yes,” he said, peering around for her. “I will find her.”

“Thank you,” Varen replied curtly, then he strode off with the other elves, who were now heading for the distant tents.

Only a few of the elves had remained behind, still milling about the tree to gather whatever meager belongings they had while kept prisoner here. Korik spotted Enriel quickly, who was standing pensively watching the others without moving.

“Enriel,” he said softly, coming up beside her. She gave a slight start, but then looked up at him with a relieved expression. “Were you hurt at all?”

“I don’t think so,” she replied, her voice wavering. “But I—I don’t know how this might have affected the baby. I know you must be tired, but... Can you check on us? Make sure it’s still alright?”

Korik nodded, offering her his hand. She reached up and clasped it, and he allowed his magic to connect them. The similarity to what he had just done with Alwyn made him feel nauseous again; but he tamped it down, instead carefully threading through Enriel’s body and first searching for any sign of injury. Some tissue felt tender and bruised, but nothing excessive or nefarious.

He focused his attention on her womb, where he could feel a different, more delicate spark. At this stage, the developing elf felt more or less the same as a grown elf, only much smaller—all four limbs, ten tiny fingers curled into fists, two feet that kicked in surprise when Korik connected to it. The heart was strong and beating quickly; all the movements of its body seemed normal. With all the caution he could muster, Korik examined its body from within the same way he was examining Enriel, sending his magic through its miniscule organs—the blood it shared with its mother rushing through its narrow veins and carrying his awareness along with it.

Nothing seemed amiss. The baby was alert and startled by the sensation of his presence; but it was developed enough now that it could likely react to other stimuli, such as Enriel’s voice and movements.

Slowly, he pulled his consciousness away, then released his hold on Enriel’s hand.

“Healthy,” he replied softly. “I found no signs of injury. You’re both fine.”

Enriel smiled, but her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Korik,” she said, her voice trembling. She lifted both her hands to wipe her tears away. “That makes me feel so relieved. Thank you.”

Korik nodded, uncomfortable and unsure of how to respond. Luckily, a nearby elf looped her arm through Enriel’s and murmured something low and comforting, allowing Korik to slip away.

He trudged closer to the camp, then paused when he came across the body of the orc guard, sprawled on the dirt in a puddle of his own blood. The guard was facedown, but Korik could clearly imagine the gore of his throat where Alwyn had torn through. Korik shivered, glancing away guiltily.

There was no other option—these orcs were kidnappers, likely even slavers, working to dismantle the peace that had so recently been put into place—yet he could not shake the discomfort and shame of having contributed to so many deaths. Alwyn had been in control, but he’d been leaning on Korik’s magic. If he hadn’t helped, would Alwyn have been able to do any of this?

He would never know. So he did his best to push the thoughts away from his mind, and instead turned back to keep watch where Alwyn was resting, while they waited for the other elves to finish scavenging the camp.

Several elves started coming back to the central group in a trickle, but it was almost an hour before Varen returned. He and another elf were leading three horses by the reins, loaded with saddlebags. One was Enriel’s horse—Korik was surprised to see that it was still alive. The other two were orcish horses, mild-tempered beasts of burden rather than the more volatile warhorses that they had encountered during the ambush.

Varen looked entirely exhausted, but he still acted as the de facto leader as they approached. “I scouted the area, and there’s no sign of anyone else around for miles. I think we’re safe to rest until sunrise, then get on the road.”

“Shouldn’t we leave now?” one elf grumbled. Varen only huffed, ignoring the remark. No one was brave enough to press the matter any further, and the rest of the elves set about either finding a place to lie down, or sorting and distributing the supplies they had looted from the camp. The elf who had been with Varen led the three horses away to tether them to the tree.

The commander approached Korik, who was still sitting on the ground beside Alwyn, quietly keeping watch.

“How’s the High Sorcerer?” Varen asked, gesturing to the sleeping elf.

“Improving, I think,” Korik replied quietly. “That magic took all his strength. A bit more rest will be good for him.”

“Good for me, too,” Varen groaned, sitting down on Korik’s opposite site. “I’m dead on my feet. I don’t care how much the others complain. I’m not leaving until sunrise.”

Korik stifled a chuckle; it seemed inappropriate to laugh, despite Varen’s light tone. “Try to sleep.”

“Oh, I will,” Varen sighed, as he rolled up what looked like a wool cloak—it was sized for an orc, so it may as well have been a blanket for him. He laid his head down on it, stretching out on the ground with his eyes closed. “Don’t let me sleep past sunrise.”

Korik nodded, realizing too late Varen wouldn’t see the motion; but the elf was obviously exhausted, and he doubted he would even be listening if he spoke.

Luckily, between the few hours of rest that he’d gotten earlier, and all the adrenaline from their escape plan, Korik felt wide awake and silently kept watch without complaint. Most of the elves seemed to have agreed with Varen that they would get what rest they could while it was still dark; the ones that were too restless to sleep, like him, were packing supplies onto the three horses or dividing them up into backpacks. Korik only watched them idly, but it looked like they would have enough supplies to get them into Aefraya without issue.

He could only hope that the journey there was less eventful than their journey so far.

After an hour, Korik was sure he was the only one left awake. All the packing had been done, and the elves had now all settled down, sitting or laying in a circle near where the horses were tethered. Even if any of them were awake, they were paying no mind to Korik; so while it was still dark, he slipped out of himself and went searching for some bird to scout the area.

Most animals that would be awake during the dead of night had given the camp a wide berth, so it took some time before he finally latched onto an owl perched in a tree about a quarter mile east of the camp. It ruffled its feathers when Korik’s presence alighted onto it, but otherwise seemed unperturbed. Korik urged it to take flight, and silently it dropped from its perch.

He oriented himself to the camp, then spiraled out from it in slow, meticulous circles. This camp was only an offshoot to a larger force, he was sure; but he did not know where they were, or how close they might be. If he could find any sign of the path that this camp had taken to get here, maybe he could figure out where this larger camp was. At the very least, he could provide Varen the certainty that they would not be followed if he could confirm that there were no other orc camps nearby.

Since he was a resident of Drol Kuggradh, Korik had not kept up with many of the details about the rebellion against King Zorvut and the following unification with Aefraya. In hindsight, he probably should have been more concerned, but at the time, he had doubted that any real trouble would ever get close enough to the orc city for him to have to worry about it. Now, all he could remember was that the rebels had rallied around Zorvut’s eldest brother Zesh—surprising since Zorvut had bested him in single combat, sparing his life in the end but taking his right arm so he could never fight again—and had gathered somewhere in the west.

Korik had no idea if they were near any offshoots of the rebel force; how much of the wildlands they had tried to claim for themselves; or how near to the historic border with Aefraya they had ventured. If Varen were awake, Korik would have asked him, but he knew it was not an urgent enough matter to be worth waking the commander. Instead, he would glean whatever useful information he could from the owl, and perhaps discuss it with Varen once they’d broken camp.

Flying out a mile in every direction, he found no sign of any other camps. He did, however, find a footpath through some brush to the north that seemed to have been recently traversed—made wider by the trampling hooves of at least a small band of riders. Perhaps only a hunting trail, but he couldn’t rule it out as an indication of this camp’s previous movements.

He didn’t want to be caught unawares by any of the elves, so once he found the trail, he released his hold on the owl and returned to his own consciousness. Luckily, when he glanced about, it didn’t seem any of the elves had noticed anything amiss.

Korik was safe for now. He settled back into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes. He still wasn’t tired, but he knew if he didn’t at least try to rest now, then he would regret it later in the day.

Somehow he managed to sleep, but it was a light rest. The first rays of the sun, peeking over the horizon against his eyelids, were enough to rouse him only a few hours later. When he opened his eyes, some of the other elves were also beginning to wake, packing away their bedrolls and gearing up the horses.

Varen and Alwyn still slept on either side of him. Korik hesitated. Both could surely use as much sleep as they could get; but he was sure that if he didn’t wake Varen right at sunrise, the elf would be very annoyed with him, which he didn’t want to deal with.

As gently as he could manage, he placed one hand on Varen’s shoulder and lightly shook him. The elf sat up quickly, the cloth covering his face falling down into his lap; his eyes were wide and alert for an instant, then catching sight of Korik, he relaxed.

“Right on time,” he yawned. “Check on Enriel, won’t you? I’ll start getting everyone up.”

Korik glanced down at Alwyn sleeping not far from him, then leaned closer to Varen. “I searched the area a bit while everyone was sleeping. I’m not sure if you saw it in your own scouting, but about a mile north, there was a footpath that seemed to have been recently traveled... So I think they might have split off from a group further to the north.”

Varen’s expression didn’t change; he only nodded, still busying himself with folding up the cloak that he’d been sleeping on.

“Good eye,” he said simply, before stumbling up to his feet. “Thank you.”

Korik hesitated, unsure of what else he expected. Varen was already walking away, so there was nothing to do but pack up his own belongings and check on Enriel. Varen’s orders had not become any less vexing, despite the trials of the last few days; but Enriel’s health had always been his priority, so off he went.

He found her near the horses, holding her paint gelding’s reins, while two other elves were filling the saddlebags. She caught sight of Korik and smiled; he was relieved to see that she was looking much better, now that she rested and knew her baby was well.

“Feeling better?” he asked quietly, standing beside her, and she nodded. He could feel the other elves looking at him—though whether it was with worry, or fear, or simple idle curiosity, he could not tell. He ignored them.

“Yes, thank you, Healer,” she replied. “Though I don’t think I’ll feel entirely safe until we’re back in Aefraya. Erm, that is—well, you know what I mean.”

“I understand,” he said. “Let me know if anything ails you while we’re traveling. It doesn’t look like they had a healer here, but I’m sure I could find enough supplies to make you something for any pain or nausea.”

Enriel smiled again; he could only meet her eyes for a few seconds before looking away uncomfortably again.

“Thank you, Korik,” she said again. “I’m well for now, but I’ll let you know.”

He nodded and stepped away now that their business was done. He did not see Varen when he glanced around; Alwyn was gone from where he’d been laying, too.

The way the elf prisoners had been positioned, it was hard to see most of the camp until he walked further away and up a hill, but from there he could observe the entire camp, small as it was. The guard had been sitting here at the top of the hill with a good view of both the camp and the prisoners, and Korik looked down at where his dead body was sprawled in the grass for a long moment.

In his time as a healer, he’d seen his fair share of gruesome injuries, some fatal and others less so. This was not like that. He had to admit that Alwyn’s method of disposal, brutal as it was, also had a certain efficiency and cleanliness. Korik wondered if the elf was secretly trained as an assassin, rather than a mage. The only wounds on the orc were the two narrow cuts on each side of his throat; anyone not practiced in medicine or anatomy could easily miss that the openings were positioned exactly where the two arteries would run up the length of the neck.

Anyone investigating the camp would likely note that all the orcs had been killed the same way, but Korik doubted the average scout could glean any other information—unless they were a druid or healer themselves, and a keen-eyed one at that. It would be best to leave the bodies where they were, he decided; it was not respectful of the dead, but then again, these orcs had not been respectful of the elves who had killed them, either. Though it was a shame that he hadn’t been able to use his newfound skill to manipulate the earth—he wondered how quickly he could dig a grave with his magic, but he quickly discarded the morbid train of thought.

Even though the elves had more than likely gathered anything useful from the camp, his curiosity about whatever substance the orcs had used to keep Alwyn incapacitated urged him to take a last look. He began with the guard: his weapons were gone, but he had a few things in his pockets that the elves had left behind. A handful of gold coins which Korik pocketed, and a folded-up slip of parchment. He unfolded it hoping to find some missive that might prove useful, but was dismayed to find instead a child’s drawing of five orcs in a line from tallest to smallest, labeled in a messy scrawl: Papa, Mama, Uncle Zekko, Dezka, Me .

It had been drawn in charcoal and was smudged nearly to the point of being indecipherable; the orc must have held onto it for a long time. Korik looked at it for a moment, wondering if the dead orc at his feet was the papa or the uncle, then folded it back up and placed it back in the orc’s pocket.

The orc also had a leather pouch looped through his belt that clinked when Korik pressed a hand to it; when he opened it, three glass vials were within. Two were empty. The third, he hoped, was the paralytic that had been used on Alwyn: a viscous greenish-yellow fluid that clung to the sides of the vial as Korik tilted it. The small cork keeping it closed had traces of wax on the top, indicating it had once been kept airtight, and Korik wondered how long it would take before the tincture would spoil. Hopefully, he could study it more while it was still functional.

If it was indeed the paralytic, that alone would have made his investigation worth the time; but Korik still walked down to the empty camp to look through the tents, bloody as they were. All weapons within had been pilfered already, save for some of the heavier ones, like mauls and greataxes, that would have been all but impossible for any of the elves to wield. The only blankets that remained were the ones covered in now-dried blood, so Korik left those behind, too.

Just as he’d suspected, though, none of the orc clothing seemed to have been taken. He’d had to leave behind most of his things in his saddlebags with Autumn, and the two outfits he’d been cycling through were now so dirty that it made him shudder to think about. The only clothes he found that would fit him in length were exceedingly baggy on his thin frame, but they were better than the soiled clothes he’d been wearing for days. He changed into them gratefully and shoved his dirty clothes into his rucksack, then packed a few more clean tunics and trousers into an empty rucksack he found in another tent.

When he arrived back down the hill at the big tree, the elves had gathered into a group, and he could see Varen looking around irritably. When his eyes landed on Korik, the elf scowled and opened his mouth—but then he stopped himself, looking Korik up and down quickly. Then he turned away, looking embarrassed.

Korik had no idea what caused the strange reaction in Varen, but didn’t get the chance to ask as the commander barked out, “Alright, that’s everyone. Let’s head out.”

With that, the group started walking in the direction that he and Varen had come from. Enriel rode atop her paint horse; the orc-bred horses bore two elves each, Alwyn among them; the rest were on foot, some in front of the horses and some behind. Korik took in a deep, steadying breath, then followed. It would be a long walk to Castle Aefraya.