“Go on, go on,” the woman chided as he snatched a roll of bread from her grasp. “Be a dear and get our guests’ horses ready once you’ve had your breakfast.”
“Yes’m,” he said quickly even as he shoved the roll into his mouth and darted out the door with a lanky awkwardness only gangly teenagers could manage.
“So where are you two headed?” she asked idly as they watched him hurry toward the exit. “Not many elves and orcs getting along with things being what they are. No offense meant, of course, just that it must be important if you’re working together.”
“Well,” Zorvut said quickly, sensing the spike of nervous energy the question elicited in Taegan. “I’m a half-orc.”
“Oh, my apologies, then,” she said, looking him up and down. “My, you’re one of the biggest half-orcs I’ve ever seen, then. Gods! What are you, seven feet?”
“That’s exactly how tall I am,” he replied with a grin; there was some bitterness to it that only Taegan could feel. “If you’ll believe it, though, I’m usually head and shoulders shorter than most full orcs I’ve known.”
“Goodness!” she exclaimed, and the topic seemed to distract her enough from her original question that she did not pursue it. “We don’t get any full orcs around here, at least not on the road. That must be a fearsome sight, then, if they’re that much taller than you, sir.”
“Oh, yes,” Zorvut agreed, nodding. He regaled her with a story of an orc battle that Taegan was certain he was embellishing for dramatic effect, not that he could blame him for the effort. As he talked, Taegan sipped his tea quietly—while he, of course, considered Zorvut to be quite charming, he had not seen him working so hard to be this overtly charismatic before. But the woman seemed rightly impressed, her eyes wide and focused on him, nodding along to the cadence of his tale.
“Well, by the gods, I hope you two stay safe out there, then,” she exclaimed as Zorvut seemed to wrap up the story. “I’ve never seen an orc raiding party this far south before, but there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there? And you, sir.” She met Taegan’s gaze, and he raised a surprised eyebrow at her. “I expect you take good care of this fellow. I know what the stereotypes are, so it’s good you’re able to see past it. He seems like a very capable and strong worker.”
Taegan gave a wry smile. If only she knew! “Yes, he is. I believe I was just telling your husband yesterday that my friend here is one of the most capable and reliable men I’ve ever known.” He did not need to look over at him to know Zorvut’s mouth had spread into a shy grin at that.
Their breakfast done, she took their dishes and wished them safe travels, and they made their way out to the stable. Taegan could already see Ember saddled up and tethered to one of several poles outside the stable, but the boy seemed to struggle with Graksh’t. The massive horse was stamping the ground nervously as the boy, visibly just as anxious, struggled to get the saddle adjusted correctly over his impressive frame.
“Let me,” Zorvut said, and the boy jumped, noticing them. He took the saddle from the human’s smaller hands and set to work, easily getting the horse outfitted.
“My apologies, sir,” he said nervously, eyeing Zorvut up and down with no small measure of visible fear in his gaze. Taegan pursed his lips, watching silently. While the woman had been pleasant enough, he supposed not all humans would be as outwardly comfortable in Zorvut’s presence. Whether that was because of the boy’s youth or some silent prejudice, he could not say.
“Ready?” Zorvut asked, glancing over at Taegan and shaking him from his thoughts. He nodded and mounted Ember as Zorvut got onto his own horse.
“Safe travels, sirs,” the boy said as they trotted out to the road, and Taegan gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement but did not respond. When they were a little way down the road, Zorvut glanced back at him with a curious expression.
“You didn’t like that boy,” he remarked simply, and Taegan sniffed.
“He didn’t like you,” he said. To his surprise, Zorvut laughed aloud—just once, a sharp and bitter laugh, but a laugh all the same.
“He was a child,” he said with a shrug. “It is not surprising to me that a child would be afraid of the unknown. You heard it from his mother, they’ve never seen full orcs. I doubt he’s met many half-orcs either.”
Taegan scowled, but he couldn’t argue with that. “You are much more forgiving than I would be,” he replied, and Zorvut’s amused grin softened somewhat.
“Well, if I wasn’t, I would probably just be sad instead. So I’d rather forgive and forget,” he said with a shrug, and turned back to look toward the road ahead of them. Taegan glanced away but gave a relenting nod of agreement, even though Zorvut could not see him.
Although they were out of the mountains, it was still a rocky, unpleasant trail through the last of the foothills. They would not see any more signs of civilization until reaching a farming village on the edge of the foothills at the end of the day. From what Taegan remembered of the map, they were around five days out from the port of Naimere, where Tomlin Whitmore was rumored to have retired. They had already survived a week; he could manage another five days.
The rest of their journey was largely uneventful, but they saw signs of life more and more often along the road the further into Autreth they traveled. Though the first roadside inn had been quiet, the next farming village was a little more lively, and they began to pass people occasionally on the way to the next town, largely merchants coming to trade their wares for food and sundry items. They were able to spend the night at inns for the following three days, which was a welcome respite as well.
Though they still occasionally received stares, it seemed mostly unremarkable for an elf and a half-orc to be traveling together. For that cultural norm, Taegan was thankful. Most of the major nations had claimed and reclaimed Autreth at various points in history, due to its central location and expansive land mass, and so it boasted a vast range of cultures and races within it. For the most part, they seemed to live in harmony, and here at least it was a matter of rote normality for the races to intermingle. It was uncommon to see a half-orc, but not any more uncommon than any other half race, and they were mostly left alone as they traveled. The foothills gave way to slight valleys and grasslands, and they followed the main road for a few days before breaking off to a southern trail that would eventually lead them to Naimere.
When they left the main road, they passed fewer and fewer people on the trail once again. Where there had once been at least one or two other travelers passing by them every hour or so, it slowly dwindled down to just a few a day, then to almost none. The foothills gave way to marshy grasslands, and on the fourth day they were hard-pressed to find a place to camp that wasn’t muddy and unpleasant, but eventually set their tent on a patch of grassy, mostly dry land a little way off the trail. Taegan’s bedroll was still damp when he woke up the next day, though, much to his chagrin.
Now that they were out of the mountains and the landscape was considerably more flat, there was little of interest as they walked other than the new range of wildlife in the marshes and lagoons they passed, and Taegan spent most of the time keeping an eye out for small game, shooting down a few waterfowl and two rabbits. Zorvut did not seem interested in joining him; he seemed to be pulling his thoughts away from the bond for most of the day, but occasionally Taegan would feel faint tremors of anxiety coming from him. But even if he could not feel it, the expression he wore when he thought Taegan wasn’t looking at him did just as well to reveal his thoughts.
It was understandable—he would be nervous, too, if he were only a day away from potentially meeting his biological father for the first time. He tried to project calmness and compassion through the bond, and Zorvut glanced back at him with a wry smile but did not respond.
Finding a place to camp was a struggle that evening as well, with their best option being a small patch of less-muddy land surrounded by soggy grass.
“It’s the last night,” Taegan said with a sigh as they started to unload their gear. “There’ll be an inn tomorrow. We can wash everything then.”
Zorvut gave a nod of agreement, but his gaze was distant as he started setting up the tent. Taegan tethered the horses to a tall bush—trees had become few and far between here—and watched him quietly, holding their bedrolls in his arms. His movements were mechanical, tired, slow; his thoughts were evidently far from the task at hand. With a sigh, Taegan carefully set the bedrolls onto Ember’s saddle and came up behind him, placing a hand on the small of his back. Zorvut gave a slight start, and glanced down at him with a confused expression.
“Everything all right?” Zorvut asked, clearly surprised. Taegan moved his hand in a slow circle, rubbing his back gently.
