Korik nodded, unsure of how to reply. But luckily Alwyn continued, “I see you are a healer. Do you know any offensive magic?”
“No,” Korik answered, shaking his head. “Nothing like that.”
Alwyn nodded, turning his gaze away. “Then perhaps you could lend me some of your magic instead. I’m not at full strength, but I’d like to take this camp out as fast as possible.”
“Help him,” Varen said, and Korik could not stop the huff of irritation that escaped his mouth in response. He ignored Varen and instead spoke to Alwyn again.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing, really,” Alwyn replied. “I just need to touch you, like what you did to me. And don’t block me when I siphon some magic from you.”
Korik was aware of this practice, but had never done it himself. He could remember once or twice when he was young, his father had siphoned some of his magic to heal a particularly grievous wound—the sensation was uncomfortable, but bearable. With a grimace, Korik held out his hand.
“Do what you must,” he said, still not looking at Varen. He wanted to help—he did not need the overbearing elftellinghim to do so. Alwyn nodded, grasping his wrist. Despite the stark difference of their heights, Korik’s wrist was thin enough that the elf could nearly get his fingers all the way around.
“Be ready to run,” Alwyn said, turning to look at Varen. “I think I can get them all. But just in case.”
Varen nodded, stepping away. Korik’s heart beat harder against his ribs, wondering what exactly Alwyn was going to do. He wasn’t sure what made him more frightened: the thought of having to run from an enraged camp of warriors and kidnappers, or the thought that whatever the mage was planning really could kill each of the orcs in their tents.
Alwyn glanced sidelong at Korik with a conflicted expression. “Do you know any of them?”
Korik shook his head. “No. They attacked me and the commander on the road, along with his sister. I don’t know who they are beyond that.”
“That’s good, at least,” the elf sighed, turning away. “Still. I don’t know how much you’ll feel. But it might be unpleasant for you. Brace yourself.”
Korik felt his stomach churn; but he didn’t have time to answer before he felt a wrenching sensation where Alwyn’s hand pressed against his wrist. He did his best not to resist, but it felt like all his blood was rushing to that point of contact, being drained away along with his life. He knew it was not so, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to allow the connection to remain, but all his instincts were screaming to pull away.
Part of him had hoped he would not feel what Alwyn was doing with the flow of magic that he was borrowing from Korik, but he had some strange, distant awareness of it. It was seeking the bodies of the orcs—not quite seeing them, but sensing them as distinct forms of heat and blood and varying sources of their own magic. The tendrils of Alwyn’s magic latched on to the closest—the guard, slumped lazily on a stool—and in a flash was ripping through him. It felt eerily similar to what he had just done to Alwyn, only with none of the caution. It was intended to harm, to rip, toopen.
The guard let out the faint beginning of a cry, before Alwyn’s magic burst out of each carotid artery, slashing through the flesh the way Korik had opened the wound on Alwyn’s hand. Yet it wasmore, the magic kept going, seeking,hunting—
Nausea churned in Korik’s gut. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to focus on anything but the sensation of Alwyn usinghismagic to do this. The sensation became far more muted, but how could he focus on anything else? One by one, he heard the distant alarmed shouts and cries of pain cut off suddenly, as their lifeblood burst from the confines of their bodies and drained away.
It happened so quickly, so efficiently. He sensed one last orc stumbling up from his cot, startled awake by the noise; but Alwyn’s magic had already found him and was tearing through his throat before he could even grab his weapon. Korik had never imagined something like this would be possible. Could all elves do this? Or was Alwyn some grim, terrifying prodigy?
The elf released his hold on Korik’s wrist, only to slump back again, panting for breath. His hand had quickly grown clammy where it held onto Korik, leaving his wrist damp with sweat. It was a slight comfort, Korik thought as he grabbed the smaller man to keep him on his feet, that it was no easy feat for him to decimate an entire camp of orcs.
“There,” Alwyn panted. “It is done. We’re safe.”
Chapter Seven
Korik
Foralongmoment,Alwyn’s declaration hung heavy in the air with no reply; the group of elves surrounding them were entirely silent. Then Korik heard Varen clear his throat—even he sounded a bit perturbed when he finally spoke.
“Efficient work, High Sorcerer,” he said faintly, then raised his voice, addressing the other elves. “Don’t go running off now. We’ll need supplies to make the trip back to Aefraya. If you’re able, come with me to gather what we can from their tents. If anyone’s good with animals, maybe see about the horses.”
“I need to sit down,” Alwyn groaned, leaning more heavily against Korik. “Put me down, please. I’ll rest until we’re ready to go.”
Korik nodded and helped him sit, aware of the bustling movement of the other elves behind him. He could sense Varen hovering near him, but ignored the elf until he was sure Alwyn wasn’t going to pass out again.
“Korik,” Varen said when he straightened again. Korik’s heart skipped a beat—what would he ask him to do this time? He hoped it wasn’t to control the horses. “Can you please check on Enriel and the baby? She’s worried about its health. I think you’re the only one who can assuage her.”
Korik blinked, processing. In all the commotion, he’d nearly forgotten poor Enriel.
“Yes,” he said, peering around for her. “I will find her.”
“Thank you,” Varen replied curtly, then he strode off with the other elves, who were now heading for the distant tents.
