Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Alwyn
“I have been lax in our training this first week on the road with our new allies,” Galred said, his tone imperious, as he looked at each of the elves gathered around him in turn.
“Now that we have all found our bearings, I will not be so lenient. We must ensure that each of us is well-suited to the task ahead.”
Alwyn had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
If they weren’t well-suited to the task ahead, they wouldn’t be here at all—not that he could say as much to the senior elf.
Galred reported directly to Tessarion, so if Galred wanted them doing drills or sparring in their downtime, he could hardly refuse.
“We will pose as mundane elves captured by orcs in order to infiltrate the rebel camp,” Galred continued.
“Orcs with magic are uncommon, but far from an impossibility. We must assume the camp will have an orc capable of detecting our magical capability. Thus, we must maintain our practice of shielding our spark, masking it well enough that we seem like simple folk unable to avoid capture by orcs, without magical ability of our own.”
This time, Alwyn couldn’t stop the sigh of disappointment that escaped him, though internally he wanted to groan in dismay.
Shielding was his least favorite practice, one of the few feats of magic that he had not been able to pick up easily.
No, if he were being honest with himself, it was always a struggle, even now.
He could recall hating the communal practice when it was first taught to him—how the other mages would immediately become aware of a weakness in his study, and detect a deeper well of magic in him than the rest, which in his fellow students bred an immediate jealousy.
And though their instructors insisted that anyone with a spark could accomplish great feats of magic given enough dedication, his ability to quickly excel in everything else only gave the others another reason to push him away.
But it wasn’t something he could help. Moreover, the masking never made sense: to shield his magic from scrutiny using his own magic? It felt like covering his own eyes and expecting to become invisible. It defied the basic principles on which he built the rest of his skills.
Galred must have heard him sigh, raising an eyebrow in his direction. “Does anyone have a better suggestion?”
He held his tongue, and no one else spoke, so after a moment Galred continued.
“I will test you morning and night. You must be able to shield your spark without notice, so I will not warn you when I test you. I will also give a small prize to anyone who can test me without notice each day. I intend to keep my skills just as sharp as ever.”
Each of the elves gave a single nod. Galred looked between them all with a small, self-satisfied smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “Better than having to spar every day, don’t you think?”
Alwyn would have much rather sparred, but it seemed he was in the minority, as murmurs of agreement spread through their group.
Dismissed, Alwyn hurried away from the group. Knowing his luck, he’d be one of the first Galred would try his stupid little test on.
“What was that about?”
Alwyn nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Krujha’s voice so close to him; he whirled around to find the orc just a few steps behind, looking at him with obvious curiosity. He hadn’t even noticed Krujha was there.
“You speak elvish perfectly well,” he snapped. Despite his harsh tone, Krujha’s grin only widened.
“I appreciate the compliment,” he chuckled, and Alwyn’s scowl deepened. “How would you feel about trying our luck fishing again today? We’ll pass by another creek, this one a little bigger and hopefully more populated. We’d set off in about an hour.”
Alwyn turned away, busying himself with breaking down his tent. “Fine.”
He could sense Krujha’s lingering presence, as if waiting for him to say more, but he stubbornly kept his back toward the orc.
He only risked glancing over his shoulder again when he’d finished with his tent.
Krujha must have given up on needling him; he was gone, but Alwyn hadn’t heard him leave.
He wondered how the orc could move so silently, appearing or disappearing at the drop of a hat.
It seemed Gorza really had mustered the best she could for this mission.
It was a shame he was so annoying to be around.
As they broke camp and set out, Alwyn kept an eye on Galred, near the front of the pack.
Galred had said he would test them morning and night—he didn’t know if that meant he’d try to catch each of them unawares twice a day, or if it would just be one unlucky soul.
He had to assume the worst, so he wouldn’t let his guard down at all—or at least, not until he and Krujha were well away from their group.
When Krujha pulled him aside an hour later, he felt Galred watching him. But the other elf didn’t intervene, and when the other group was no longer in sight, Alwyn breathed a sigh of relief.
“What’s got you so worried?” Krujha asked as their horses trudged through the grass. He was glancing sidelong down at him, an eyebrow raised. The curiosity and concern on his face seemed genuine, though Alwyn wondered how much he could trust any expression on his face.
Still, the whole situation had him annoyed, so venting had its appeal.
“Galred is an instructor at the Library,” Alwyn sighed, peering back the way they’d come—not that Galred could have possibly followed him, but he could admit that he felt a little paranoid. “He wants to keep us sharp for this mission, so... He told us this morning he’s going to start testing us.”
“Testing? How?”
This part was harder to explain. How did he describe the source of magic inside each of them to someone whose well was more like a shallow dish?
“How do orcs conceptualize their magic?” he asked, taking some small pleasure in the way Krujha’s curious expression immediately morphed into one of confusion.
The orc took some time to consider before answering.
“Well, I don’t have much magical ability, myself.
But my understanding is that magic is a force outside ourselves, and orcs are born with varying degrees of awareness of that force.
Those who are more attuned to it are trained to become healers and shamans—and, well, leaders, I suppose. ”
Alwyn nodded. That wasn’t exactly how elves put it, but there were similarities.
“Elves trained in magic are taught that their magic is an individual wellspring inside of them. For some, that well is very shallow, and for others, it goes deep. There is natural variation, and it can be expanded with rigorous training, but all living things have at least a small spark of magic. It’s what keeps us from just being rotting chunks of meat. ”
He glanced back at Krujha to find the orc watching him attentively. It made him nervous—he’d never had to teach or explain these concepts, and now suddenly having an audience made him self-conscious of his own understanding of the topic.
“And, well,” he continued, trying not to stammer.
“If you can sense the spark in someone else, and test the depth of that wellspring, it can give you an idea of how trained they are in magic. Or how dangerous their raw power might be. But with training, you can disguise your spark, so others only detect what you show them.”
“I see,” Krujha said, nodding. “And I take it he’s testing how well you can do that, to prepare for infiltrating the camp?”
“Right.”
“If the camp is holding elf prisoners, it stands to reason they may have someone checking each one to see how much magic they can wield. I can’t say I ever saw that myself, but... I was only tracking one camp, and there were no elves there. So I couldn’t say for sure.”
They continued in silence for a bit. Beside them, the creek was shallow and noisy. Krujha had insisted it got deeper further on, but Alwyn wondered how much further they would have to go.
“And I take it you aren’t a fan of this test, then?” Krujha finally said, and that teasing lilt was back in his voice.
“I’m not,” he said, wrinkling his nose in annoyance. Krujha raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. Alwyn bit back a groan. “It’s just—difficult for me. I’m not trying to, I don’t know, show off or anything, but my own wellspring of magic is, well, very deep. Hiding it is... challenging.”
“Ah. And I see you’re not used to being challenged,” Krujha chuckled.
Alwyn scowled, hot irritation rising in his chest. “What does that mean?”
The orc took a long moment before answering, his expression appraising.
“I think I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I get the impression that you’re used to coasting on your own natural talent.
All your skills have, I’m guessing, come to you easily—or at least quickly.
So when something is a struggle, you take it personally and don’t know how to handle it. ”
The words felt like barbs straight through his chest. His first instinct was to protest, but he couldn’t outright deny the kernel of truth in Krujha’s accusations. How could the orc see his faults so clearly after just a week?
He was so stupid to think they might eventually be friends.
He’d been foolish to reveal a weakness to the spy—to reveal anything about himself or his past. He had told himself over and over to take his master’s teachings to heart, yet clearly he was not as diligent as he had once believed himself to be.
“You don’t know anything about me,” Alwyn stammered, turning away as fury and humiliation burned in his face. “And here’s what I think of you—you put on different personalities like people put on hats. I bet you don’t even know which version of you is real anymore.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath from the orc, then silence—then, annoyingly, Krujha just chuckled again.
“We know each other quite well for only having spent a week together, it seems,” he murmured.
Despite Alwyn’s frustration, something about his low, confessional tone made his heart squeeze with that same stupid wish to connect again.
“I think there’s some truth to your assessment, sure. And what do you think of mine?”
Alwyn remained silent. He knew that other members of the Order thought he was a teacher’s pet—had been told to his face that he was stuck-up and arrogant.
But everyone in the Order was stuck-up and arrogant, because they were the best. They had to be, or they wouldn’t last long.
Since he was a child, he’d told himself that the others were just jealous: perhaps of his close relationship with Tessarion, or perhaps of his own natural ability.
So maybe there was some truth to Krujha’s assessment. He couldn’t quite parse out whether he was hurt by the accusation itself, or that a near-stranger could so easily spot his own failings and insecurities.
“I suppose there’s some truth to it,” he mumbled, glaring up at the orc. “Maybe. A little bit.”
Krujha beamed down at him, his wide smile entirely too aggravating.
“I’m glad we understand each other,” he said, as cheerfully as if he hadn’t even noticed—or purposely ignored—how frustrated Alwyn now felt. “Maybe I can help you practice?”
Alwyn couldn’t stop himself from snorting, half in derision and half in amusement, but Krujha’s smile didn’t falter. “I don’t think you could help me. No offense meant, but... Without having magic of your own, I don’t see how you could help me hide mine.”
“You said yourself, everyone has at least some spark,” Krujha replied. “Or—what did you call it? A wellspring?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Explain to me how you do it, and I’ll see if I can try,” Krujha insisted.
“We’re supposed to be foraging,” Alwyn protested. The last thing he wanted was to worry about the test in the few hours each day he was sure that he was safe from Galred. “We haven’t gotten anything yet.”
Krujha’s eyes softened. “I suppose you’re right. Some other time, then.”
When they returned to the camp, their haul was meager: just a few handfuls of wild rice and three fish, which they kept cold in a small bucket of water.
Krujha hadn’t asked about his magic or the test again on the way back.
They parted ways when they arrived: Krujha to gut the fish, and Alwyn to deposit the rice into a grain bag with the rest of their supplies.
The hand that landed on his shoulder registered a second too late. Magic washed over him. Alwyn jolted away, trying to block the intrusion at the same time, but Galred’s grip was firm.
“Too slow,” the elf said, eyes narrowed. “And I could feel you even through your attempt at a shield. This is something you must continue to practice, Alwyn.”
Alwyn clamped his mouth shut before he could curse in frustration. He should have been watching for Galred the moment they started approaching the camp.
“Yes, teacher,” he forced out through gritted teeth. Galred, at least, did not draw out the lesson. He promptly turned away from Alwyn, releasing his grip and stalking off to find his next victim.
Alwyn’s mood remained sour as they continued pushing their way northwest. It wasn’t until they stopped to set up camp that he even lifted his gaze from the horse directly in front of him, having spent the whole afternoon ruminating on how much he hated this stupid, pointless test.
Of course, Krujha turned up again when he was setting up his tent. His presence was annoying, but familiar in its annoyance, which was strangely comforting. Still, Alwyn frowned as the orc stepped over to him.
“What?” he asked flatly, narrowing his eyes. Krujha laughed.
“It went that badly?” he replied. Alwyn huffed and busied himself with shaking out a blanket. “Let me help you, then. It couldn’t hurt, could it?”
Heat blossomed in Alwyn’s face. He looked around self-consciously.
The other elves weren’t outright looking at him, but he was sure they would notice if he and Krujha began discussing the nature of magical ability and the ways it could be shielded.
Not that he cared what they thought of him.
But practicing in full view of everyone else, especially Galred—it was embarrassing even to consider.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he mumbled. “If we leave early to forage.”
He expected Krujha to keep teasing him; but to his surprise, the orc’s eyes seemed to soften as he glanced around, noting their proximity to the rest of the elves.
“Alright,” he finally said, shrugging. “Gives me the chance to think about it, see if I can’t puzzle out some way of approaching the problem that even you haven’t thought of.”
“There’s nothing I haven’t thought of,” Alwyn said flatly. Krujha laughed aloud at that, and Alwyn pushed down the soft tendril of pleasure it elicited in his chest.