Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Alwyn
Even after a few days, Alwyn couldn’t quite get his bearings around Krujha.
All the elves were reserved with the orcs, which was hardly surprising; and though they were brusque and often direct, the orcs were by and large quiet around the elves. The only one who moved confidently between both groups was Gorza.
And him. Alwyn had watched Krujha interacting with the others. He was polite, and even talkative, with the other elves; but their interactions lacked the overt friendliness that he showed Alwyn.
He didn’t quite know what to make of it.
Maybe he was just going out of his way to be nice since they had been paired together for their camp duties.
But he couldn’t escape the idea that Krujha was acting toward some secret purpose—a spy within the spies—whether on Gorza’s orders, or perhaps for some deeper, darker reason.
He could play into it, of course—let Krujha think he was becoming friendly—though he wasn’t sure how he could use that to his own advantage, just yet.
But it was a dangerous game. The Order discouraged friendships between its members for a reason.
Theirs was solitary work. The more connections one had, the easier it was to be weighed down by obligations, or be manipulated by those connections, turned into weapons an enemy could wield. It was always better to be alone.
And Alwyn was here for a singular purpose, one he could never share with any of the others.
On that front, Alwyn was certain that unless the truth was forced from his lips, not even Krujha could discover the mission that he alone had been entrusted with.
Was it possible to be friends with someone, even if he were only pretending, while keeping such a secret from them?
Probably not. Still, Alwyn couldn’t bring himself to fully shut down the orc.
Even when he gave one-word answers to the questions Krujha asked him, he couldn’t outright ignore them.
And Krujha was clearly tenacious if nothing else, completely undeterred by Alwyn’s lack of enthusiasm.
A friendship was out of the question, he decided, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t stay on good terms with each other, at least for now.
He did sometimes miss the silence, though, when he and Krujha would go out on their foraging excursions each afternoon. He had never met someone who talked so much.
By the third day of travel, both groups seemed to have settled into their routines, which meant making and breaking camp went smoothly.
Despite the cold and cloudy weather, it had not rained; and there was no risk of snow quite yet, so they were making decent time.
Most importantly, they had encountered no one else in the wilderness; though Gorza had warned them they would likely run into hunters, or full clans, the further west they traveled.
The landscape often appeared so rugged and bleak that Alwyn doubted they would encounter another soul, despite her warning.
Late one morning, before Alwyn and Krujha broke off from the rest of the group to forage, he was proven wrong.
Galred, who had been near the front of their line, suddenly pulled back on the reins of his horse.
As the elves behind him stumbled to a stop, their horses whickering in protest, he flung a hand out and pointed toward the horizon.
“I see a group of three,” he said, and whatever confused question Gorza was about to ask died on her lips. She turned in the direction he pointed. “Coming from the north. They must have dodged the scouts.”
Gorza swore under her breath, squinting. “Well, let’s try and dodge them, then. Maybe they haven’t seen us yet.”
A nervous murmur passed through the group as they veered further west. If they were lucky, Alwyn thought, the hunters wouldn’t even notice them. They would pass each other by none the wiser. Hunters were of no real concern, he knew, hoping that the three weren’t scouts for a larger host.
As the group drifted off their intended path, though, the noise of a horn pierced the air. Gorza swore aloud this time, but turned toward the sound anyway. The trio of orcs had spotted them.
“Just hunters, probably hoping to trade,” she muttered, glancing at each of them in turn. “You’re all merchants, and Krujha and I are hired guards. Only if they ask. Otherwise, let me do the talking.”
Galred nodded, and the other elves followed suit.
Alwyn glanced over at Krujha, wondering how he might react to all this; but the moment Gorza had assigned him the role of a guard, something in his countenance had changed.
That air of friendliness he had, even when he wasn’t speaking or grinning at Alwyn, had evaporated entirely.
In its place was a dispassionate expression, silently regarding the group.
As quickly as if he’d done it a thousand times before, he pulled the crossbow slung across his back into his hands, which Alwyn had never once seen him draw.
He looked for all the world like he’d been hired muscle from the beginning of their journey.
It should not have surprised him—it only made sense that the orc would be perfectly adept at taking on a new persona at a moment’s notice. Still, the ease with which the mask seemed to fall over Krujha made Alwyn wonder which persona was the act.
Not that he had much time to wonder. The group of three were riding quickly toward them, which might be a sign of a confrontation—though Alwyn noted that at least they didn’t have any weapons drawn.
“Hail, cousins,” Gorza called once they were within earshot, waving. “Any luck on your hunt today?”
“Hail, sister,” the orc in the center of the group answered, pulling slightly ahead of the others.
He was tall and broad, dressed in dark hunting gear; but his head must have been freshly shaved bald, as his skull shone in the midday light.
All three were males, but the one speaking was the biggest; all three had swords on their hips, and one had a bow and quiver slung across his back.
“Nothing today, I fear. We were surprised to see another group so far from any of the usual paths, especially this time of year. And in... mixed company.”
The last part carried a questioning tone, and Alwyn knew that one of the elves would have to give an account of themselves. After a beat, Galred cleared his throat.
“I am a seller of rare alchemical ingredients,” he said. While his orcish within their group had been impeccable, he now spoke with a thick elvish accent. “But we’ve had no luck in our search today, either.”
“I think he’ll listen better next time I tell him nothing grows out in the middle of nowhere like this,” Gorza added with a chuckle. Galred returned a tight grimace, nodding once.
“A merchant? Anything to trade, then?” the bald orc asked, gesturing toward Galred, who held up his hands in apology.
“I didn’t bring any stock on such an expedition, sorry,” he said. The orc scoffed, looking back at Gorza, then briefly at Krujha near the back of the group.
“Well, I hope you have better luck than we’ve had,” he said, turning his horse.
The two other orcs also backed away, but Alwyn’s eyes flickered to the one on the right, the archer.
He leaned toward the bald orc, murmuring something in a low tone.
Alwyn couldn’t hear it, but he recognized the form of one word on the orc’s lips: silvertongue.
Alarm spiked in his chest. Gorza was turning toward them, her friendly smile falling away to a frustrated expression.
She spoke, just above a whisper, in elvish. “Be ready. I think the archer recognized me.”
“He did,” Alwyn hissed.
“Fionia. Alwyn,” Galred said. “Horses first, arrowhead formation. I’ll take point.” Fionia was further ahead; Alwyn would take the right, she would take the left. These were the kinds of moves they had practiced thousands of times before, and the training came back to him all in a rush.
“Don’t kill them—just restrain them,” Gorza hissed to Galred, then turned to Krujha. “Well?”
“I don’t recognize them,” Krujha replied in elvish. “But their saddlebags—I know the maker’s mark.”
Alwyn’s chest was tight with anticipation. Restraining the orcs would be harder than simply killing them; but if he disobeyed now, he doubted he would be allowed to continue with the group.
The three hunters continued heading back the way they had come. After a beat, Gorza nudged her horse forward, and the line of elves followed. Alwyn could feel the tension in the air, each of them waiting for the other group to act—
The archer turned to face them again, pulling the bow from his back in one fluid motion.
“Now!” Galred exclaimed. Before either Gorza or Krujha could raise their weapons, the three elves moved in perfect unison.
They each made the same grasping motion with one hand, magic surging outward.
Alwyn could have done it sitting perfectly still, his magic reaching out as naturally as a limb.
The earth beneath the feet of the three hunters’ horses erupted all at once.
The animals screamed in fear as the soil churned and coiled around their legs, locking them in place.
Only the archer seemed to keep his wits about him, struggling to stay balanced while aiming his bow.
But the three elves were too quick; the horse restrained, Alwyn’s magic burrowed into the flesh of the orc sitting astride it, locking his muscles in place.
The orcs’ shouts of anger and protest quickly died down into choked, smothered noises, as all three were paralyzed.