Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“Alwyn,” he whispered, kneeling beside the mattress. In the darkness, he could just make out the shape of the elf where he lay, curled up under the single knitted blanket he’d been given. He didn’t respond, so Krujha gingerly shook his shoulder. “Alwyn?”
The elf’s deep, rhythmic breathing cut off with a sharp intake of breath. Alwyn shot up into a sitting position, light sparking in his palm. His eyes were wide and frightened before they landed on Krujha—he blinked, disoriented for a moment, then sagged back in relief.
“It’s just you,” he breathed, shaking his head. “You startled me.”
“Are you alright?” Krujha asked, frowning. Now that there was light, he looked Alwyn over as much as he could, but he saw nothing amiss. There were no fresh wounds or bruises on his face or neck, no sign of bandages or blood under his clothes. “I wasn’t expecting you to be asleep.”
“The druid ran me ragged,” Alwyn sighed, shaking his head. “I came back to the tent right at suppertime, ate, and passed out. What time is it now?”
“About two hours before midnight,” Krujha said. Alwyn’s explanation assuaged his worry somewhat, but it still left him unsettled to see him so utterly exhausted.
The elf groaned, rubbing his eyes. Krujha had to stifle a small smile at the tired, bleary way Alwyn looked at him when he lowered his fists. His sleepy eyes and mussed hair were cute enough to push the last of Krujha’s worries away, even if only for a moment.
“What?” Alwyn asked, visibly stifling a smile.
“You’re just—cute,” Krujha confessed with a slight laugh, relishing how color rose in the elf’s cheeks. Alwyn glanced away, a mixture of annoyance and pleasure on his face.
“Hardly the word I’d use,” he mumbled. “Do you have anything of importance to tell me, or did you just come to admire me?”
Warmth stirred in Krujha’s body—but as much as he wanted to admire the little assassin, there was hardly time for it now. “I finally met with our contact.”
Alwyn visibly perked up at that, sitting up straighter. “Well?”
Krujha sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“It’s good to have an ally, but he really only confirmed what I already suspected.
Zesh has been sending out more communications to his allied camps than usual lately.
Brugo—our contact—suspects he’s planning something big that will happen sooner rather than later.
We aren’t sure exactly what, but probably nothing that will make our jobs any easier. ”
Alwyn’s expression had steadily become more dour as Krujha spoke, and now he sighed heavily. He looked down at his hands clasped in his lap and interlaced his fingers, as if to keep himself from balling them into fists or wringing them with nerves.
“So we need to act quickly,” he finally said.
“Before that, tell me what happened with you and the druid,” Krujha prompted. Alwyn glanced up at him, clearly surprised, then shrugged.
“I taught him some of what I know, as I said I would,” he replied.
“But what exactly did you teach him?”
Alwyn grimaced, seeming to consider his words before continuing. “Blood magic. It seemed better than any of the alternatives I could think of.”
Krujha had to force himself not to gape at the elf. He didn’t entirely understand what, exactly, he meant by blood magic, but it sounded like nothing good.
“Was that really the only thing you could think of?” he asked through gritted teeth. Alwyn bristled, scowling at him. “Blood magic? That doesn’t sound like something you would want to give to an enemy.”
“It was the safest option,” he replied, his voice an annoyed hiss now.
“Just—the orc healer that helped me before, his magic felt close enough to what I taught the druid that I figured—well, it was hardly a step up. It’s something anyone with healing magic could probably figure out with some study on their own.
Not like—not like what he was asking me for. ”
Krujha was silent. He couldn’t pretend to know enough about magic to refute what Alwyn was saying.
Still, it left him unsettled that there could be something more dangerous to teach the druid than whatever blood magic was—and knowing Alwyn was an assassin, he suspected it was exactly what it sounded like.
“And besides,” Alwyn added when Krujha said nothing. “It won’t matter what I showed him, as long as we kill them both quickly. So what are we going to do?”
A bitter laugh bubbled up out of his throat—there was some truth to the elf’s words. Better to focus on what he could do now than dwell on what had already been done.
“I suppose it depends on you,” Krujha said. Alwyn blinked in surprise, but said nothing. “Do you think you can kill them both at the same time?”
The elf looked at him, considering. That he hesitated at all was more than enough to convince Krujha that he couldn’t, in light of how confident he’d sounded just moments before.
“Maybe,” Alwyn finally replied, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced, either. “Once, I got a group of about ten pretty quickly—but I was also supplementing my magic with someone else’s. And it only worked because it was the dead of night, and all but one of them were asleep.”
“Could you do that now?” Krujha prompted. “In the middle of the night, I could sneak in, then get you out once it’s done.”
Alwyn grimaced. “Not exactly. I was trying to kill an entire camp then instead of a specific person. I can’t really differentiate between people that well if I can’t see them, and—it would be a considerable distance. I could try, but it might not be enough.”
“Let’s scrap that idea for now, then,” Krujha sighed. He settled into the rickety chair beside the mattress. “We’ll think of something else.”
“Wait,” Alwyn said quickly, looking uncertain. “First, I—I wanted to ask you something.”
Krujha raised an eyebrow. “Go on, then.”
“You said you were planning on killing Zesh all along, too,” Alwyn said, a frown crossing his features. “Was that really your plan from the start?”
The question took him by surprise, though he supposed they’d hardly had the chance to discuss things the last time they were together. “Having doubts about me now, little spitfire?”
Alwyn scowled. “No, it’s not that. Just... I guess I’m wondering why. Why you’d be planning to kill him, too, if you’re not acting on orders like me. You’d be going against Gorza. She trusts you, clearly, and you’re betraying that trust.”
Krujha regarded him silently. They had shared their vulnerabilities with each other before, but somehow this felt harder to say—as if it should be obvious—but then, Krujha supposed, he had made a life out of keeping the truth of his thoughts and feelings from everyone around him.
“I worked for Gorza because for a long time, we’ve wanted the same thing.
But that’s not true, not anymore. When Zesh asked me why I wanted to join up, I told him it was because I’d promised myself I would have vengeance on the one who took my clan from me.
My family,” he finally said, shooting Alwyn a chagrined smile.
The words felt heavy in his mouth. He didn’t think he’d ever truly spoken them aloud, though it was a sentiment he had carried within him since his first day in Drol Kuggradh as a child—the thought he’d clung to as he’d cried himself to sleep, alone and terrified.
“And that’s the truth. I made that vow a long time ago.
I just let him believe I was referring to the elves, and not to his father. Not to him.”
The words hung heavily in the air between them for a long moment, as Alwyn seemed to weigh his words. After a moment, Krujha added softly,
“Maybe that’s why meeting Jekha left me so shaken. The thought of vengeance was all that kept me going sometimes. Seeing a member of my own clan wanting nothing to do with that... I don’t know. I had never doubted myself before that.”
“Do you doubt yourself now?” Alwyn asked, not without kindness.
“No,” Krujha answered. That, at least, he didn’t even have to think about. “Especially not now.”
“How were you planning to kill him, then? If you were doing this alone?” Alwyn asked, and Krujha chuckled, shaking his head.
“I had no fucking clue,” he said. Alwyn visibly stifled a laugh at that.
“I just planned to convince the group to let me take point on whatever plan we had to capture Zesh, and instead of capturing him, I’d slit his throat.
If it killed me, I had peace with that. If I lived, and Gorza believed I betrayed her, like you said, then I would flee to live as an exile.
It would be worth it. It is worth it—to me. ”
Alwyn’s amused expression quickly faded. “You were really willing to die just for revenge?”
How could he not? The question felt ridiculous to even consider, but he forced himself to speak evenly. “His father destroyed my clan. Dozens of their lives were lost. My life for his? That seems more than fair to me, when you look at how the scales are weighed.”
Alwyn’s expression was inscrutable. Whatever he was thinking, he was trying not to let it show on his face. Usually Krujha could read him pretty well, but when the little elf really wanted to, he could play the stoic. But he held his gaze until, finally, Alwyn’s expression softened.
“I understand,” he said in a quiet voice.
He didn’t understand, not truly. How could he? For all that Alwyn had lost, he would never know what it was like to be an orc child left clanless and orphaned. But Krujha returned the soft look with a smile of his own, knowing that the sentiment was heartfelt.
“Hopefully, together we can come up with a plan that doesn’t leave our fates up to chance,” he said, and Alwyn nodded.