“Alright,” he heard Varen agree faintly, but he was already walking away into the woods to gather firewood.
As he walked in a careful circuit around where Varen remained, it was becoming more and more clear that they were on a mountain. He was starting to recognize some plants and trees from when he traveled with his clan as a child; they had not been a mountain clan, but had passed through the northern mountain range to deliver supplies to one such clan, though he couldn’t recall exactly when.
This was looking much like that. If he remembered correctly—and it had been long enough since then that he couldn’t say for sure if he did—those were the Krag Gabriz mountains: the range stretched across the northernmost edge of the orc homeland where it met the cold sea; all the way into Aefraya where its narrow northern border crept up against orc lands, like the point of a crescent moon; then down into the human nation of Autreth. Mountain clans lived in the range, but as winter approached, many would now be traveling south to avoid the harshest of the weather.
If this was Krag Gabriz, then they needed to descend the mountain as soon as possible, before the first snowfall. They were lucky there was no snow on the ground now, but that could change at any time. They were woefully ill-prepared for such a journey, and if they were caught in a blizzard before they could get down the mountain, he doubted they would survive.
But the first thing they needed was a fire so they could safely rest. The day would be wasted, but Varen couldn’t travel in his condition; and Korik couldn’t heal him any further until he’d had the chance to rest and replenish some of his magic. Maybe by sunset he would have enough to make a cursory scouting trip of their surroundings through the eyes of nearby birds, then heal Varen further in the morning so they could set out as soon as possible.
No snow had fallen yet, so the sticks he gathered were dry and would light easily—a small blessing considering their dire situation. When his arms were full, he retraced his steps back to where Varen was still waiting. The elf had started organizing his belongings while Korik was gathering wood, and everything was now set out in careful piles around him.
He glanced up at Korik as he approached, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him. From the way he was mumbling faintly to himself, as he looked at everything he’d emptied from his bag, he was calculating how many days they might have left before they ran out of food—exactly what Korik was tryingnotto think about.
Silently, Korik set up a campfire with the wood he’d gathered. The stones they’d picked up in their travels to keep warm, and to create a border for their fires, had been in one of the saddlebags. As he got up to gather more, he realized with dismay they now had no cooking tools or utensils either, so anything they would need to cook would have to be placed directly over the fire. It was a shame. He’d become accustomed to a cup of hot, strong coffee in the early mornings when they prepared to set out, and it would have been especially welcome in the cold they would soon be facing.
But it couldn’t be helped. He had just enough magic left to spark the tinder, which quickly grew into a crackling campfire. Only then did Varen finally break the silence between them.
“We’re, ah... Not exactly in a great position here.”
Korik couldn’t stop himself from snorting in response. “No, we aren’t.”
But Varen’s expression remained grim. “I don’t know exactly where we are, but it certainly feels much colder here. And it’s only going to get colder the longer we’re stuck here.”
“I know where we are,” Korik replied. Varen looked up at him, bewildered. He added anxiously, “Well... I think I know roughly where we are. I’ll be able to confirm tomorrow. But I think we’re in the Krag Gabriz mountains, though exactly where, I couldn’t say.”
Varen stared at him for a long moment in silence, his expression entirely unreadable to Korik. But it was a far cry from his usual confident, smug grin, which Korik would have much preferred.
“Krag Gabriz,” Varen repeated. “We’re near Solitude, then.”
“Is that an elven city?” Korik asked. He didn’t recognize the name; but if it were a city near the northern border, it very well might be in the foothills of the range, between the mountains and the northern coast on the elven side.
“Hardly,” Varen said, still looking ashen. “There used to be a village, but now it’s just an outpost. The most isolated one. I did some training there when I was younger. The mountains are called the Frozen Tears in elvish. I spent several weeks in the wilderness alone, but it was in the summer... The winters here are harsher than most.”
“Yes,” Korik agreed. “The mountain clans here are the most remote, and even they rarely stay on the mountain during winter.”
“Then we need to get off the mountain sooner rather than later,” Varen said, his voice shaking. “We have nothing, no supplies for regular camping, much less those needed in this kind of weather—”
“Stop,” Korik growled. Varen fell silent, though it was more out of surprise than obedience, Korik thought. “It isn’t snowing now. You’re injured, and I’m exhausted. We will not die from one night on the mountain, even if we don’t have all the gear we need.”
Varen’s expression hardened. For a moment, Korik thought he might snap something back at Korik in anger; but after a beat, the tension seemed to leave his brows, and the elf looked away, shaking his head.
“You’re right, of course,” he sighed, then rubbed his face with both hands. “Still. Not a great position to be in.”
“Better than the one we came from,” Korik muttered, turning away to look at the fire.
“I don’t know why we ended uphere, though,” Varen continued. “I haven’t been to Solitude in decades. I was aiming for Drol Kuggradh. Why here?”
“I know nothing of teleportation,” Korik said. In all honesty, he hadn’t known it was even possible. Judging from how it had drained both Varen’sandhis magic to get them here, he doubted it was something the vast majority of mages could accomplish. Nerves tightened his stomach, as he remembered Varen saying it wasAlwynwho had given him the rune that allowed him to teleport at all—had the elf tricked him, knowing Varen would use it to transport the both of them?
“You said Alwyn gave you that stone?” he asked.
“Yes. I thought the same thing as you,” Varen said. “I wonder if he did this purposely to try to kill us. But I don’t think that’s the case.”
“He didn’t trust me. He thought I was working for the rebel orcs,” Korik protested. Still, Varen shook his head.
“Yes, but he gave this to me when we were alone, just before we parted ways. He wanted it to be a secret. He told me to use it as an emergency exit if his suspicions were true, and I had to get away fromyou.So I doubt he would have given it to me under such pretenses if he was secretly hoping you’d get caught up in it, too. Plus, this was before we were given our mission from King Ruven, so... Unless he’s a clairvoyantandan assassin, I think this was more my own error than some nefarious plan on his part.”
Korik hadn’t been entirely convinced; but Varen so rarely talked disparagingly of his own abilities that thismusthave been his true feelings, or he wouldn’t have said it otherwise. When Varen glanced up at him, he grimaced, as if reading Korik’s thoughts. “Don’t look at me like that.”
