Only a few of the elves had remained behind, still milling about the tree to gather whatever meager belongings they had while kept prisoner here. Korik spotted Enriel quickly, who was standing pensively watching the others without moving.
“Enriel,” he said softly, coming up beside her. She gave a slight start, but then looked up at him with a relieved expression. “Were you hurt at all?”
“I don’t think so,” she replied, her voice wavering. “But I—I don’t know how this might have affected the baby. I know you must be tired, but... Can you check on us? Make sure it’s still alright?”
Korik nodded, offering her his hand. She reached up and clasped it, and he allowed his magic to connect them. The similarity to what he had just done with Alwyn made him feel nauseous again; but he tamped it down, instead carefully threading through Enriel’s body and first searching for any sign of injury. Some tissue felt tender and bruised, but nothing excessive or nefarious.
He focused his attention on her womb, where he could feel a different, more delicate spark. At this stage, the developing elf felt more or less the same as a grown elf, only much smaller—all four limbs, ten tiny fingers curled into fists, two feet that kicked in surprise when Korik connected to it. The heart was strong and beating quickly; all the movements of its body seemed normal. With all the caution he could muster, Korik examined its body from within the same way he was examining Enriel, sending his magic through its miniscule organs—the blood it shared with its mother rushing through its narrow veins and carrying his awareness along with it.
Nothing seemed amiss. The baby was alert and startled by the sensation of his presence; but it was developed enough now that it could likely react to other stimuli, such as Enriel’s voice and movements.
Slowly, he pulled his consciousness away, then released his hold on Enriel’s hand.
“Healthy,” he replied softly. “I found no signs of injury. You’re both fine.”
Enriel smiled, but her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Korik,” she said, her voice trembling. She lifted both her hands to wipe her tears away. “That makes me feel so relieved. Thank you.”
Korik nodded, uncomfortable and unsure of how to respond. Luckily, a nearby elf looped her arm through Enriel’s and murmured something low and comforting, allowing Korik to slip away.
He trudged closer to the camp, then paused when he came across the body of the orc guard, sprawled on the dirt in a puddle of his own blood. The guard was facedown, but Korik could clearly imagine the gore of his throat where Alwyn had torn through. Korik shivered, glancing away guiltily.
There was no other option—these orcs were kidnappers, likely even slavers, working to dismantle the peace that had so recently been put into place—yet he could not shake the discomfort and shame of having contributed to so many deaths. Alwyn had been in control, but he’d been leaning on Korik’s magic. If he hadn’t helped, would Alwyn have been able to do any of this?
He would never know. So he did his best to push the thoughts away from his mind, and instead turned back to keep watch where Alwyn was resting, while they waited for the other elves to finish scavenging the camp.
Several elves started coming back to the central group in a trickle, but it was almost an hour before Varen returned. He and another elf were leading three horses by the reins, loaded with saddlebags. One was Enriel’s horse—Korik was surprised to see that it was still alive. The other two were orcish horses, mild-tempered beasts of burden rather than the more volatile warhorses that they had encountered during the ambush.
Varen looked entirely exhausted, but he still acted as the de facto leader as they approached. “I scouted the area, and there’s no sign of anyone else around for miles. I think we’re safe to rest until sunrise, then get on the road.”
“Shouldn’t we leave now?” one elf grumbled. Varen only huffed, ignoring the remark. No one was brave enough to press the matter any further, and the rest of the elves set about either finding a place to lie down, or sorting and distributing the supplies they had looted from the camp. The elf who had been with Varen led the three horses away to tether them to the tree.
The commander approached Korik, who was still sitting on the ground beside Alwyn, quietly keeping watch.
“How’s the High Sorcerer?” Varen asked, gesturing to the sleeping elf.
“Improving, I think,” Korik replied quietly. “That magic took all his strength. A bit more rest will be good for him.”
“Good for me, too,” Varen groaned, sitting down on Korik’s opposite site. “I’m dead on my feet. I don’t care how much the others complain. I’m not leaving until sunrise.”
Korik stifled a chuckle; it seemed inappropriate to laugh, despite Varen’s light tone. “Try to sleep.”
“Oh, I will,” Varen sighed, as he rolled up what looked like a wool cloak—it was sized for an orc, so it may as well have been a blanket for him. He laid his head down on it, stretching out on the ground with his eyes closed. “Don’t let me sleep past sunrise.”
Korik nodded, realizing too late Varen wouldn’t see the motion; but the elf was obviously exhausted, and he doubted he would even be listening if he spoke.
Luckily, between the few hours of rest that he’d gotten earlier, and all the adrenaline from their escape plan, Korik felt wide awake and silently kept watch without complaint. Most of the elves seemed to have agreed with Varen that they would get what rest they could while it was still dark; the ones that were too restless to sleep, like him, were packing supplies onto the three horses or dividing them up into backpacks. Korik only watched them idly, but it looked like they would have enough supplies to get them into Aefraya without issue.
He could only hope that the journey there was less eventful than their journey so far.
After an hour, Korik was sure he was the only one left awake. All the packing had been done, and the elves had now all settled down, sitting or laying in a circle near where the horses were tethered. Even if any of them were awake, they were paying no mind to Korik; so while it was still dark, he slipped out of himself and went searching for some bird to scout the area.
Most animals that would be awake during the dead of night had given the camp a wide berth, so it took some time before he finally latched onto an owl perched in a tree about a quarter mile east of the camp. It ruffled its feathers when Korik’s presence alighted onto it, but otherwise seemed unperturbed. Korik urged it to take flight, and silently it dropped from its perch.
He oriented himself to the camp, then spiraled out from it in slow, meticulous circles. This camp was only an offshoot to a larger force, he was sure; but he did not know where they were, or how close they might be. If he could find any sign of the path that this camp had taken to get here, maybe he could figure out where this larger camp was. At the very least, he could provide Varen the certainty that they would not be followed if he could confirm that there were no other orc camps nearby.
Since he was a resident of Drol Kuggradh, Korik had not kept up with many of the details about the rebellion against King Zorvut and the following unification with Aefraya. In hindsight, he probably should have been more concerned, but at the time, he had doubted that any real trouble would ever get close enough to the orc city for him to have to worry about it. Now, all he could remember was that the rebels had rallied around Zorvut’s eldest brother Zesh—surprising since Zorvut had bested him in single combat, sparing his life in the end but taking his right arm so he could never fight again—and had gathered somewhere in the west.
Korik had no idea if they were near any offshoots of the rebel force; how much of the wildlands they had tried to claim for themselves; or how near to the historic border with Aefraya they had ventured. If Varen were awake, Korik would have asked him, but he knew it was not an urgent enough matter to be worth waking the commander. Instead, he would glean whatever useful information he could from the owl, and perhaps discuss it with Varen once they’d broken camp.
