Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Alwyn
The next few days were as uneventful as those before Gorza’s departure. With two members now gone, they had to pick up the slack, and minor duties were doled out to the other remaining pairs.
Though there were fewer mouths to feed, they had to divide their rations to aid Gorza’s travel, so Alwyn and Krujha’s daily foraging trips became more important than ever.
They were given no further responsibilities, other than leaving the group earlier in the day and returning later to increase their chances of finding a windfall.
It was just as well. Alwyn didn’t like having his routine disrupted, as new as the routine might be; and the chatty orc was a better companion than the other orc—or worse, Fionia or one of the other elves.
Eventually, they would start running into more groups—roaming clans, hunting parties, maybe even rebels on their way to join up with Zesh’s force.
It was unavoidable. So when Torlag pointed out what looked like a large traveling party in the distance one afternoon, Alwyn tried his best to ignore the alarm that rose in his throat, telling himself that just because the first instance had gone poorly, didn’t mean others would follow suit.
But the memories of his captivity came rushing to the forefront of his mind all the same.
More painful than the ropes digging into his wrists or even the blow to the back of his head was the lingering ghost of the medicine that had kept him asleep and helpless, keeping his magic—his greatest tool, the thing that made him who he was—completely out of his grasp.
He could never let himself be so vulnerable again.
As their own party drew closer, Alwyn was relieved to see this group appeared entirely different from the three hunters they had encountered before.
It was a larger group, which made him think it was a full clan at first, though the wagons they pulled with them were unlike those usually used by orcs.
When they were close enough to make out individuals, it was obvious that this group was not native to the wildlands, either.
There were some orcs as well as elves—and strangest of all, humans in their midst, too. Their wagons were painted in bright, gaudy patterns, with words emblazoned across the side in a human dialect: Dorian Veras and the Freedom Troupe. Or something like that, though Alwyn didn’t recognize the name.
“What do you make of that?” Galred asked, a slight furrow between his brows, when it became obvious their paths would intersect.
The question did not seem directed at any one of them in particular; but unsurprisingly, it was Krujha who answered, with a hint of a laugh in his voice that Alwyn had become accustomed to.
“I have no fucking clue. Anyone heard of this Dorian Veras?”
To Alwyn’s surprise, Daine spoke up. “I have. He’s a musician. A human. He’s performed in Aefraya a few times. I don’t know what the Freedom Troupe is, though.”
“A band of bards, then, perhaps?” Krujha suggested.
They were closer now, and Alwyn could see one figure split off from the rest, riding ahead to meet them. Tension rippled through their group, but so far, the troupe seemed harmless enough.
The orc that approached them had dark, neatly parted hair and a well-manicured goatee. He wore traveling clothes that were a bit worn and faded with time, but looked to have been finely made and once brightly colored.
“Well met!” he called as his horse trotted right up to their group, smiling widely—and evidently without an ounce of self-preservation, Alwyn thought.
“We haven’t seen another soul out here in days.
I’m T’kar, and behind me is the Freedom Troupe.
If you’re headed in our direction, you’re welcome to travel with us. ”
“Hello, T’Kar.” Krujha took the initiative, smiling right back. “I’m Krujha. What is the Freedom Troupe?”
Somehow, the orc’s grin widened even further.
“Oh, you’re all in for a treat. We’re a group of musicians, celebrating the peace that has finally united us all.
Our troupe has been traveling all over the wildlands, spreading the joy of music to every clan we come across.
We’re heading toward Drol Kuggradh to take shelter there through the winter, then plan to cross through northern Aefraya and back into Autreth in the new year. ”
Krujha’s smile remained, but Alwyn already found himself annoyed by the enthusiastic orc. They had no time for such frivolity—
“Well, we aren’t quite headed for Drol Kuggradh, but I think we can spare one evening,” Krujha said, turning toward Alwyn and the others. “Don’t you think so? A group like ours could use all the friendly faces we can get out here, wouldn’t you say?”
Alwyn wanted to protest, but he kept silent.
Instead, he looked toward Galred, who would surely put an end to this nonsense.
The older elf had been looking out toward the rest of the troupe, but now turned to Krujha, silently considering.
The orc raised an eyebrow in turn, his smile becoming expectant, and the elf finally sighed.
“Yes, I think we can spare half a day’s travel in the name of.
.. celebration,” he finally said, though his tone was far too stiff to sound convincing.
Alwyn frowned, confused, but already Krujha and T’Kar had let out a cheer.
They began conversing excitedly, and soon their whole group was following T’Kar back the way he had come, toward the wagons now waiting for them on the dirt road.
It was a motley crew of elves, orcs, and humans—all just as annoyingly chipper and happy to see them. The wagons were all painted garish hues of purple and yellow, as if they were trying to be spotted by anyone passing within a few miles of them. To spend even an hour with them seemed foolish.
“What is the point of this?” Alwyn muttered when he came up beside Galred. Their orderly line was dissolving now that they had caught up with the troupe. Galred glanced at him with a cool expression.
“A well-traveled, eclectic group like this has surely heard all sorts of stories and rumors. Some that might even be true,” he said simply. Alwyn scowled, letting Galred’s horse pull away from him.
While there was some truth to that, they knew which direction led to Zesh’s host, and a sizable camp would be hard to hide once they closed in. He couldn’t imagine any information these travelers might have that would be worth camping with them for the night.
But it was happening, like it or not. He wasn’t the one calling the shots. So he would just have to wait it out, and hope that none of these musicians were too annoying—though he did not have high hopes.
One of the elves in the troupe sidled up to Alwyn; his smile wasn’t as broad as the orc’s had been, but he was still a far cry from the stoic elves of the Library.
He had wavy auburn hair that looked like it had once been cut to frame his face, but had long since grown out; his eyes were warm and entirely too cheerful, crinkling as he smiled.
He looked like he was probably about the same age as Alwyn, a hint of softness in his face that suggested his childhood was not so far behind him yet.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect to see any elves not part of our troupe until we arrived in Drol Kuggradh. What’s your group doing so far from home?”
Alwyn hesitated, then decided that sticking with the story they’d established would be best.
“We’re gathering alchemical ingredients,” he said simply. The other elf waited for a beat, as if expecting him to elaborate. When he said nothing else, his smile became a little nervous, but he continued on.
“Well, I suppose it’s quite fortuitous we all ran into each other, then. Luckily, we haven’t had any, er, incidents, but there’s always more safety in numbers.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Alwyn said stiffly, glancing away. There was another beat of silence before the other elf spoke again.
“I’m Cheryth, by the way,” he said. “What’s your name?”
He didn’t want to say, but he figured it would be too conspicuous to be rude. The last thing he wanted was more unwanted attention from the other troupe members, or worse, admonishment from Galred. “Alwyn.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Alwyn,” Cheryth said, nudging his horse forward a little more. “I’m going to say hello to everyone else, too. I’ll see you around the fire tonight.”
Alwyn only nodded, watching him come up alongside Galred and Daine, who greeted him politely.
Was he the only one who thought this was a bad idea? Or maybe the others were just better at acting pleased.
He glanced up ahead to see Krujha and T’Kar still chatting away near the front of the group now, as if they were old friends.
Something in him ached at seeing them. He didn’t want friends, and didn’t exactly wish he was better at making friends, but seeing how easily two strangers could get along within minutes of meeting made him feel.
.. Not quite jealous, but he wasn’t sure how else to identify the uncomfortable feeling that spread through the pit of his stomach.
But he had seen how quickly Krujha’s entire persona had changed before. Maybe this was just another performance—not that the thought made him feel any better.
Alwyn let his horse plod along at a placid pace, so that he was at the very tail end of the throng following the carts.
He didn’t want to have to awkwardly introduce himself to anyone else.
He didn’t want to be here at all. He found himself thinking back to the adventure book—imagining Blythe Everwood on the high seas, waltzing onto the pirate ship that had intercepted him as if he owned it. Like he belonged wherever he went.
They ended up making camp earlier than Alwyn would have expected, but he supposed it was harder to find a place for a group this size to safely set up camp. When the wagons were parked and the tents started coming up, the largest wagon suddenly burst open.