“I can’t help but think it’s something much more nefarious than that,” he sighed, listlessly picking at the hunk of cheese in his hand. “But I hope you’re right. I hope there’s nothing more to it than a ransom.”
But something about all this wasn’t sitting right with him, even as he shoved the piece of cheese into his mouth and forced himself to eat. If these poachers were with the rebels gathering under Zesh, why were they targeting elves, presumably citizens of Aefraya? They couldn’t possibly hope to wage a war on two fronts: the combined might of the elven nation and the vast majority of clans that had sworn allegiance to Zorvut. But he didn’t see any way that these were completely unrelated, either—it seemed too large an operation from what Korik described.
“They must be allied with the rebel clans,” he said aloud. Korik gave a start, looking back over at him again. “They must know that trying to sell elven citizens back to their own country would be seen as an act of violence—of war.”
“I’m sure that’s what they want,” Korik agreed, though his voice was hesitant.
“Are you?” Varen asked sharply. Korik’s expression became confused. “Why not just make an outright attack, then? Why the subterfuge?”
Korik frowned. “I don’t know.”
“It doesn’t make sense to me!” Varen burst out in frustration. “No one is forcing them to be part of the unification! So why go out of their way to snatch uninvolved elves off the roads, rather than take their quarrel to the kings directly?”
“I don’t know. I have no quarrel with the elves. I don’t know what they’re thinking,” Korik replied nervously.
The orc had leaned away from him as he spoke, brows furrowed, as if he were frightened of the elf. It was an absurd thought. Despite Korik’s lack of training as a fighter, he still had the physical advantage: he was taller, likely stronger, had the reach and build, not to mention the threat of his magic.
Korik glanced at him and added, “Perhaps they saw how King Zorvut defeated the warlord and are too frightened to attack him directly. Perhaps it is his brother at the helm of all this, and he knows he’s already been bested in combat, so he has to do something else.”
Varen sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I mostly meant it as a rhetorical question. Sorry. I’m just angry.”
“Oh.”
They were both silent for a long moment, unsure of what else to say to each other. Varen’s stomach still roiled with worry, but he kept taking deep breaths to try to keep himself calm.
“Will you check on her again?” he asked softly, hating how vulnerable he sounded. “Just to make sure they haven’t gone any further?”
To his frustration, the orc shook his head. “I need to rest. I can’t do it again tonight. I’ll check in the morning.”
Varen knew that was entirely reasonable—that magic depleted with use just like any energy—but the refusal still felt like a slap in the face. He already felt like he was losing his mind, justwaitinghere when Enriel was in danger.
He stood up silently and stomped into the surrounding trees without saying anything more to Korik. There was a pond nearby. With his magic, he first siphoned clean water to refill his waterskin, then methodically scrubbed all the blood off his face and out of his hair. Being clean made him feel marginally better, but only just.
The time alone helped him cool off a bit, too. It wasn’t Korik’s fault that he couldn’t use any more of his magic, but it was maddening knowing that it was only the orc who could truly see Enriel and know where she was, if she were truly safe.
And what was to say Korik was telling him the truth? Varen’s throat tightened at the thought. Maybe he was secretly working with the rebel orcs, was feeding him false information, was lying about Enriel’s safety, or even the abilities he claimed he had—
No, that couldn’t be true. The orcs that had taken Enriel had shot Korik in the shoulder and killed both their horses. The prince had recommended Korik himself. Varen had no reason to not believe that the orc was telling the truth.
He had to trust Korik. He might truly drive himself mad with worry if he didn’t. Initially, he had only agreed to bring the healer along for Enriel’s peace of mind. The orc wasn’t a liability, Varen repeated to himself, but was perhaps the key to rescuing Enriel safely. It certainly would have been a far greater challenge if he were alone—the thought stung, but it was true. He had no choice but to trust Korik.
When Varen returned to the camp, Korik was still sitting up, seemingly keeping watch. Varen kept quiet, still ruminating and feeling equal parts exhausted and anxious, before settling into his bedroll and turning away. Sleep would be hard won, but he would need to be rested for whatever the morning would bring.
Chapter Five
Korik
Afteradayoffollowing the orcs, Korik decided he much preferred the chatty Varen after all. He had been silent almost the whole day, and Korik couldn’t tell if he was sulking, or planning, or in the throes of despair.
Luckily, the orcs had slowed their pace, clearly believing they had shaken Varen and Korik off their trail. Each time he checked, Enriel’s arms were still bound behind her back, and she was gagged. They had allowed her to ride her own horse, but had it tethered between the others, so the whole pack travelled at the gelding’s pace. Korik and Varen weren’t gaining any ground on them, but they weren’t pulling as far ahead as Korik had feared, either.
The surrounding landscape was at times densely wooded, or else open and rocky. The orcs were leading them in a northwest direction, further back into the orc wildlands where Korik had never been. If not for the heavy pit of worry at the bottom of his stomach, he would have enjoyed the scenery more. Still, he thought it was one of the more beautiful landscapes that he’d seen in his life.
It had been many years since he’d ventured past the walls of Drol Kuggradh. Seeing the untamed wilderness gave him a better understanding of why so many of his kind spent their lives out here, far from the confines of civilization, despite the safety and routine it provided. It was open and wild andfree—an inappropriate and uncomfortable thought, considering why they were here in the first place. Still, he had little else to do with his time other than observe their surroundings, and couldn’t deny the sublime landscapes around them.
Varen, of course, seemed to have no such appreciation. He seldom spoke, and his eyes remained fixed straight ahead as they tramped up rocky hillsides and wove through tall, thick trees. His displeasure was obvious, but it also meant that Korik could actuallylookat the elf without getting a raised eyebrow or prodding question in response.
He was pretty—as all elves were pretty, of course. After two years of being surrounded by elves, it was hard not to think so. But the dappled light through the leaves above them caught his hazel eyes or raven hair, and it gave him a certain glow that sometimes made Korik’s heart squeeze in his chest. Not with worry or anxiety for Enriel, but something else, something he couldn’t name.
