Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Alwyn
Alwyn couldn’t help but feel worried as they set out that morning, after eating a cold breakfast to avoid lighting a fire.
If everything went according to Krujha’s plan, Fionia and the other orc, Torlag, would be entering the rebel camp before the end of the day.
It was hard to trust the orc’s judgment, especially with so many variables still up in the air.
On the one hand, Alwyn couldn’t deny the stupidly charming orc’s skills: not only was he composed and silent, moving virtually unnoticed whenever he wanted, but had clearly mastered the ability to act like he belonged in any environment.
It was a skill Alwyn didn’t think he would ever truly perfect; he had spent all his time and effort learning how to use his magic effectively and efficiently.
On the other hand, just because Krujha was an excellent spy, there was nothing indicating he was a master strategist, too.
And although Alwyn could not come up with a better way to gather the information, he also knew how quickly things could fall apart on such a dangerous assignment.
Torlag might be perfectly capable—though he could not imagine the dour, stoic orc having skills equal to Krujha—and Fionia could hide her magic well enough to play the part of a captive; but if Zesh was actually with this camp, there could be all sorts of extra precautions put in place to keep newcomers and outsiders from threatening the warlord.
The idea of Zesh being so close brought a whole other set of worries, too—like how Alwyn would get near enough to kill him before the rest of the group could attempt the capture and extraction.
He hated how useless it felt being left behind, waiting for information that might not even be useful; more than that, he knew he couldn’t afford to be left out of the decision-making when they made the plan to actually capture Zesh.
Torlag’s voice shook Alwyn from his thoughts, pointing out to the group a haze of smoke in the distance, finally signaling the camp they were looking for.
It hadn’t even reached midday; it was cold, but clear and bright, so the group halted its progress to avoid any chance of being detected by the rebel scouts.
Once they found a dip in the landscape with a ridge to break direct eyesight of the camp, things happened quickly.
Krujha and Galred were conferring in low voices, looking out over the ridge, as the rest waited a few paces behind.
After a moment, they gestured for Torlag and Fionia to join them.
The four of them spoke amongst themselves for only a moment before Alwyn saw Fionia’s expression flicker, turning grim for a brief instant.
She gave a nod, then looked to Torlag, who met her eye and returned the gesture.
Just like that, they moved to depart. Torlag pulled a rope from his saddlebags and tied it quickly around Fionia’s wrists.
When the elf failed twice to mount the tall, orc-bred horse, Torlag lifted her by the waist and placed her sidesaddle.
Alwyn was almost embarrassed for the fellow mage, but to her credit, Fionia’s expression remained as impassive as ever.
Then Torlag mounted the horse in front of her, and they were off.
“We’re going to set up camp nearby to wait,” Krujha said, turning back to the rest of the group, his mouth a tight line around his tusks.
“Torlag should check back in around sunset. We don’t want to be too close, and we’ll have a patrol around our camp to make sure we aren’t spotted by any scouts of their own.
So don’t get too comfortable, in case we have to leave in a hurry. ”
Alwyn sighed. It sounded less like they were making camp and more like they would just be sitting around waiting.
The group moved a little ways off until they found a suitable spot nearby with some tree cover.
They still couldn’t risk starting a fire, so the crisp cold of the day quickly crept beneath Alwyn’s robes, giving him a chill.
He used his magic to suffuse his clothes with warmth, but the cold air sapped it away within minutes.
There was no sense in splitting the group further, so they all sat in a cluster with the horses loosely tethered nearby.
Everyone busied themselves with whatever minor tasks they could.
To Alwyn’s surprise, Krujha pulled out a small roll of yarn and a set of woolen socks, one of which had a hole in the toe, and started darning the hole.
Alwyn glanced around. Myrra had taken scouting duty, while her two peers sat across from each other, one reading a book and the other making notes on a small scroll.
Galred sat with his back ramrod straight against a tree—legs crossed, hands resting loosely on his knees, and his eyes closed—whether he was meditating or napping, Alwyn couldn’t say.
But none of them were paying attention to him, not even Krujha.
He had only so many ways to pass the time.
So he reached into his saddlebag and carefully pulled out both books, shielding the smaller novel from view with the heavy arcane tome.
He found a place to sit a little further from the rest, surreptitiously hid the novel in the open book, and set to re-reading.
The day dragged on, maddeningly slow. Alwyn read his book all the way through and had taken to begrudgingly reading the actual textbook he’d disguised it with.
Eventually, it grew too dark to read at all—the realization filled Alwyn’s stomach with dread.
Torlag was supposed to return at sunset, but there was no sign of him.
The camp was quiet and tense, a sense of anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Without a word, each of the elves had summoned a single globe of light to illuminate their makeshift camp, the cool light giving everything an eerie tint.
“What will we do if he doesn’t come back tonight?
” Alwyn asked quietly as they sat in a circle eating a cold supper of bread and cheese.
No one had set up their tents yet, but the later it got, the more likely it seemed that they would need to rest before taking any further action.
Krujha and Galred glanced at each other; it was Galred who finally answered.
“He will return.”
That didn’t answer his question, Alwyn thought irritably, but he held his tongue.
Sleep was tugging at his eyelids when a faint whistle signaled the return of their scout, and the quiet camp suddenly came to life with an anxious energy.
Krujha and Galred both stood; Alwyn could tell from the elf’s stance that he was ready to use his magic to defend himself at a moment’s notice.
Krujha’s eyes darted rapidly in the darkness, seeking the light of a torch or magical glow.
The elf now on scouting duty, Daine, emerged from the darkness, and a few steps behind him was Torlag.
Alwyn looked past him, hoping to see Fionia following, but it seemed to be just the two of them.
Worry leapt up into his throat at the thought of her alone in the camp at the mercy of the rebel orcs, but he pushed it down.
“Well?” Krujha said as the pair of them approached. Torlag sighed before speaking, and his heart sank.
“Zesh isn’t there,” he said, and Alwyn’s breath left him all in a rush.
His own response went unnoticed, though, as everyone else also seemed to deflate a bit at the news.
“It took some time to gather information about where he’d gone.
I wrote it all down here—” He pulled a tightly rolled scroll from within his cloak and handed it to Krujha, who pocketed it without opening it.
“—but he left this camp just over a week ago, heading further northwest. I’m not certain, but I suspect the camp there is the primary seat of his power, even larger than this one. ”
“Any idea how far it is?” Krujha asked, folding his arms across his chest with a frown.
“Not too far. A few days.”
“And Fionia?” Galred asked. Torlag winced.
“They have a handful of elves in this camp, maybe ten or so. She’s with them. I think they’re mostly merchants who were intercepted on the roads. None seemed like mages or soldiers to me.”
“Were they—” Alwyn heard himself asking, swallowing hard around the words when everyone’s attention swung over to him. “Were they sedated?”
Torlag was silent for a beat. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Maybe? How could he be uncertain of something so obvious? No one else seemed as annoyed by his lack of answer, though, then Krujha spoke again.
“We’ll head for the other camp at first light, then. It might take us an extra day or two to give this camp a wide enough berth to avoid detection. Would you be able to join us?”
“I don’t think so,” Torlag said, shaking his head. “It would arouse too much suspicion if the two of us were to leave. It’s big, but not so big that no one would notice two newcomers leaving the next day. Go without us, and we’ll figure something out.”
“We can’t leave her behind!” Alwyn exclaimed, the words escaping him before he could even process them again.
“Alwyn,” Galred said, displeasure obvious on his face. “Mind yourself.”
“She’ll be alright,” Krujha added in a softer tone. “And if there are other elves there, I’m sure she can help them better than we could. It won’t be for long. Torlag will keep an eye on them.”
Torlag nodded silently behind Krujha. Alwyn wasn’t convinced, but forced himself to swallow down the fury building in his chest. He wasn’t the one calling the shots—and maybe she would be alright—maybe it would be different from what happened to him.
Krujha’s eyes lingered on him even as Galred spoke again.
“We must focus on our own mission,” he said. “Fionia is well-trained. I trust her to handle herself, and whatever plan she and Torlag devise.”
“I agree,” Krujha said, though he still held Alwyn’s gaze for a beat longer. “I’ll review this information when we’re on the road. You shouldn’t linger, Torlag.”
The orc nodded and turned to go.