Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Alwyn
When Gorza had explained the structure of their plan, sparse on details as it was, Alwyn’s mind had latched on to the notion of pretending to be a captive of the orcs.
Hours later, it hadn’t let go, leaving him tossing and turning all night with anxiety.
His memories of true captivity were no longer just haunting his dreams, but filled his waking hours as well; the wound was still too recent for it not to hurt when prodded.
He should have expected as much, though.
How many other ways could an elf—a group of elves especially—be brought into a camp in open rebellion against the new orc king and the peace he had promised?
The only contact those orcs had with elves traveling in the wildlands ended in either death or capture, to be ransomed back to Aefraya, both outcomes sowing further discord between their nations.
On that level, the plan made sense, and it was likely the only reliable path forward; but none of that made it any easier for him to calm his nerves.
As he dressed in the dim light of his small tent, Alwyn considered how inevitable this aspect of the mission was, and how much of it the Mage Princeps had anticipated. Even though Tessarion had given him this second chance, he was still being punished for his failure.
But it meant his success in this would be all the sweeter.
After all, that was how his mentor had always taught, forcing Alwyn to sink or swim by confronting his shortcomings at every opportunity.
He tried to find encouragement in the thought, but everything felt dreary and unpleasant in the damp morning air.
Winter crept closer every day; and soon it would not be a cold mist clinging to him as he packed away his tent, but the sharp fingers of frost that would herald the arrival of snow.
He didn’t know how the orcs managed it, and most Aefrayan winters would be considered rather mild compared to their northern neighbors.
It wasn’t even snowing yet, and he was dreading being out in the wilderness—without the comfort of a hearth roaring with fire, and a bed piled with warm blankets awaiting him at the end of the day.
The moment his belongings were packed away into his horse’s saddlebags, he joined the group gathering around the fire, partly to keep warm and partly to get his breakfast.
Meals would be a shared responsibility as they traveled together.
Galred had taken the first duty, rising early to prepare food for everyone.
The cauldron that had been full of hot cider the night before was now bubbling with porridge, which Galred ladled over slices of apple drizzled lightly with honey.
Alwyn took his portion and sat down on one of the logs that had been pulled up around the fire, keeping his eyes on his bowl as he quickly ate.
The camp was awake now, and as soon as everyone had eaten, they would be heading out.
He felt someone approach behind him, and his head immediately darted up. The smiling orc from the night before was stepping over the log where he sat, then took a seat on the other end and grinned at him.
Alwyn felt his face warm, flustered. Of all the places to sit—
“Good morning,” the orc said in elvish, offering a hand to shake while balancing his own bowl of porridge in the other. “Alwyn, right? I’m Krujha.”
Alwyn hesitated, then took the offered hand. His fingers were dwarfed by the orc’s; but Krujha’s grip was gentle, and he released his hold after one uncertain shake.
“Good morning. Yes, I’m Alwyn,” he said simply, looking back down at his bowl.
“I figured I’d introduce myself to everyone, since we’re all going to be working together,” Krujha continued, clearly undeterred by Alwyn’s lack of engagement. “But you went to bed before I got the chance to say hello. Not much of a night owl, hm?”
Alwyn risked a glance over at him again, hoping his own confusion wasn’t as plain on his face as it felt; but the orc was looking down and stirring his bowl of porridge, seemingly intent on the task.
The motion was disarmingly casual, and Alwyn could have sworn that he had sensed the orc’s eyes on him just an instant before.
He took a moment before answering to consider this Krujha.
He had a rather unassuming appearance. His hair was the same jet black that was common to most orcs—cut close to the skull on the sides, but with a little more length on top—falling rakishly into his eyes now, although it had been neatly pushed back the night before.
His face was the sort that Alwyn might have seen illustrated in some study of orc culture or anatomy: not exactly handsome, but not ugly or off-putting, and free of any scars or marks that would stick in his memory.
He seemed of average height among his companions with a solid frame Alwyn could discern even under the layers of clothing and gear that he wore for this weather; but he was no war leader or battle champion, lacking the wide, thick build of some orcs that he had encountered during his last mission.
The perfect appearance for a spy, he concluded. Alwyn was lucky enough to have a similarly unremarkable face. When he was younger, he had wished he was handsome; but in this line of work, it was better not to stand out one way or the other.
Krujha finally glanced back over at him, a questioning smile still on his face. Alwyn startled, realizing he was staring and remembering the question.
“I suppose not,” he stammered, looking away. He felt, more than heard, Krujha chuckle with how closely they were sitting.
“Me neither,” Krujha sighed, now speaking between spoonfuls of porridge. “Though I can’t say I’m some morning songbird either—getting up before the sun has just never felt right to me. I had to beg Gorza not to put me on breakfast duty.”
Alwyn had to stifle an annoyed sigh. The last orc he’d traveled with, Korik, had barely spoken a word to him the whole time. Just his luck the next one would talk his ear off.
His poor luck continued as they traveled.
Gorza divided them into pairs to cover all necessary tasks for their travel.
G’mol and Myrra were tasked to scout ahead, while Torlag and Daine would find a water source to ensure everyone’s waterskins were topped up each day.
Gorza and Galred would share cooking duties; lastly, Fionia and Cithrel would pair up to oversee the horses and gear during camp setup and breakdown.
Of course, that meant Alwyn and Krujha were paired together to hunt and forage as they traveled to supplement their supply of rations.
Alwyn would have much rather been assigned to the horses, but somehow doubted Gorza would be sympathetic to such a request. She seemed friendly enough, but had a no-nonsense air about her as she delegated duties, which left little room for discussion.
And so at midday, he grudgingly broke off from the group with Krujha. As their band continued northward, they veered more west, toward a cluster of trees that Krujha claimed looked promising.
“I take it you haven’t done much foraging,” Krujha chuckled, slowing his larger horse so they could remain side-by-side—presumably to chat, which only annoyed Alwyn further. “You seem like a city boy to me.”
Alwyn frowned. It was true that he had lived in Castle Aefraya most of his life, never having to hunt or forage for his own food. His earliest memories were of an orphanage in some town or city; then he was taken to the Library, where he’d remained when not on assignment for the Order.
“I suppose so,” he said simply, unsure of what else to say. Luckily, Krujha seemed more than capable of keeping a conversation going with minimal input.
“I grew up in a clan that stayed mostly along the western coast, actually,” he said, gesturing to the west, as if the coast were somehow in their line of sight.
“So most of my foraging skills are for a much different climate. We did more fishing than hunting. But I’ve traveled enough through the rest of the wildlands now to have a decent sense of what can be foraged in other locations.
If we were closer to the beach, though, we’d be heading back to camp with baskets and baskets of food. ”
“Unfortunate that we’re here then, and your talents are wasted,” Alwyn mumbled. Krujha laughed, which took him by surprise.
“Well, at least we don’t have too many mouths to feed,” Krujha said, grinning down at him. “I think we’ll get by just fine, however slim the bounty. After all, Gorza made sure we were well-supplied before setting out.”
Alwyn nodded. But Krujha seemed to wait for him to say something, so after a beat, he asked, “Is your clan still on the coast, then?”
For the first time, Krujha’s grin seemed to falter, and he glanced away.
“No,” he answered. The brevity spoke loud enough for Alwyn to know that he must have hit a sore spot, but he had no intention of pursuing that thread any further.
For a while, they were both silent, only the sound of their horses’ hooves between them. But when Krujha finally spoke again, it was with the same friendly tone.
“Have you been to Drol Kuggradh at all? Or anywhere else in the wildlands?”
Alwyn couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped him this time. It seemed it didn’t matter how little he engaged with the orc—he was going to be forced into a conversation one way or the other.
So he told the orc that he had been to Drol Kuggradh once, before tracking an offshoot of the rebel camp on his previous mission.
For his part, Krujha went on at some length about his experience tracking the rebels; but also that he had spent several years in Drol Kuggradh.
He had also traveled along the full range of the elf border, but never into Aefraya itself.
As they finally reached the treeline, the orc turned the conversation back to the task at hand, informing Alwyn that at this time of year, they could hope to find the dregs of autumn’s bounty, along with a handful of winter fruits and tubers.
“Some of these trees have edible bark, too,” Krujha finished, gesturing to a tree as they passed it. “That’s more of a last resort, though. It doesn’t taste good, but it has nutrients.”
Alwyn wrinkled his nose. “Let’s hope it won’t come to that.”
Krujha nodded, then pointed to some fruit in the highest branches of the trees.
After some effort, they managed to gather a handful of small apples.
Two were soft, probably full of worms, so Krujha tossed them to the ground; but the rest they put into a cotton sack that he pulled from a saddlebag.
Next, he led them to a wild crop of plants that had edible tubers, pulling a few out at the base to reveal their roots and the plump growths beneath them.
“You can use magic to clean things, can’t you?” Krujha asked with a teasing grin, shaking the worst of the dirt from the uprooted plant. Alwyn sighed, and with a swish of his hand, the dirt came flying off the plant and fell into a pile at Krujha’s feet. The orc laughed, kicking the soil away.
“You aren’t going to take the rest?” Alwyn asked, frowning, as Krujha placed the now-clean tubers in the same cotton sack and moved to mount his horse.
“Not from this cluster, no,” Krujha said. After a beat, he added, “If you take them all, there might not be any more here next year. You never take all of them. Some have to go to seed.”
That made sense, though it was something Alwyn had never considered.
“I see,” he said, then pointed toward another cluster of the same plant a little further away. “What about those?”
Krujha grinned down at him, and Alwyn felt heat rising in his face. He hadn’t met many orcs in his life, but this one had to be more cheerful than most.
“Good eye,” Krujha said. He winked at Alwyn, and the heat blooming in his chest intensified. “Let’s get some from there, too.”
The orc headed in that direction, and Alwyn could only watch him walk away, rooted to the spot.
A strange feeling was spreading through his body—one he couldn’t name.
Why was Krujha being so friendly? They barely knew each other.
Was he just this way with everyone? No, everyone in their group was a spy.
He had to have some ulterior motive. But Alwyn’s mind remained stubbornly blank as he tried to consider what Krujha was trying to accomplish with all this.
Krujha noticed and turned toward him, clearly confused. “Forgot how to use your legs?”
Alwyn stammered something unintelligible, then bit his tongue, the heat in his face now taking on a decidedly more embarrassed tone. He stumbled past Krujha to the patch of plants and tried to ignore the laughing orc, now kneeling down beside him as they dug through the dirt.