She had seen many landscapes and traveled far in her years, which was expected of an orc-bred horse; but the images that stuck out the most in her memories were visions of autumn foliage—reds and oranges and yellows that danced like fire, but didn’t hurt her eyes or burn to get too close, when the air was crisp and sweet in her nostrils.
“Autumn,” he thought. “Is that your name? Autumn?”
She let out a soft whicker, pleased at the assessment. She was called Autumn.
Korik gently extricated his consciousness from hers, gripping the reins a little tighter at the momentary disorientation as his vision pulled back into his higher vantage point. Autumn trotted along just the same, now unperturbed by the intrusion, which made Korik wonder if perhaps the clan where she was raised had their own druid, too.
Looking ahead at the elf siblings, they didn’t seem to have noticed him, which was a relief. Not that they would have been able to recognize what was happening if they had glanced back at him, at least from this distance. But orcs with magical ability were uncommon, and their traditions were well-kept secrets.
The elves could know of his healing, but the abilities of druids—to send their awareness miles away and communicate with, or even control, animals—were known only by other orcs. Even with the unification binding so many orc clans with Aefraya, and his own camaraderie with the elven prince, Korik had no intention of being the one to reveal the full extent of their capabilities to the elves. Some things, like this, were only for him and for his people.
The commander was just as insufferable on the road as he’d seemed when Korik met him.
By the end of the first day, it was clear Varen believed his authority as a commander extended to this journey, both over his sister and over Korik. He had no insight as to the dynamic between the two siblings’ positions, but Korik had no obligation to the elven army. He told Varen as much on that first night, when the commander had all but ordered him to go gather firewood.
“What, you want to make Enriel wander the woods instead?” Varen had replied indignantly.
“I don’t see why you couldn’t do it,” Korik protested, bristling. Varen rolled his eyes, pulling his horse along to tether it to a nearby tree.
“I’mclearlytending to the horses,” he snapped. “Will you please just go gather some firewood?”
This time, Korik was the one who rolled his eyes. But at least the elf had asked this time—even if it was obviously insincere—and it was true that they would need firewood, and he wouldn’t want Enriel to do it. Plus, it would give him a few minutes alone in the forest to take a look at their surroundings.
Forestwas a generous term, he supposed, as he trudged away from the clearing Varen had chosen for their camp that night. There were trees, but none were especially tall or thick; and while some were in clusters, most were several feet apart or more. Most of the vegetation here was squat bushes and soft grasses. It would get rockier first as they left the immediate surroundings of Drol Kuggradh, then a dense forest would lie closer to Aefraya.
When Korik was out of sight of the camp, he knelt down on a patch of grass and pressed his palms against the soil. Magic welled in his chest, draining his consciousness through his open hands and into the earth below, spreading out rapidly in all directions. The first sign of life he sensed was a warren of rabbits below him, several tiny hearts beating rapidly—then an owl stirring into wakefulness at the intrusion. He lingered with the owl for a moment, but then he could sense what he was looking for—birds in flight, soaring above him.
Their awareness shuddered around him as he looked through their eyes—they were a group of crows, which tended to have more of a reaction to his presence than other birds—but he held on until he could clearly see the wide expanse surrounding them. The birds were headed west, but he could see much of the landscape from their height. He spotted the three horses that marked where Varen and Enriel were waiting, the road stretching north and south, boulders and clusters of craggy rocks further south, and—
Smoke from a different campfire rose up far to the northwest. He tugged at the crows’ awareness to pull them further in that direction to get another look. It was not surprising to see a camp of orcs, but he wanted a better view of this camp and how many it housed. From the distance of the smoke curling lazily into the horizon, he would guess that the other camp had to be at least three miles away from them—a considerable distance, but close enough that it was possible that the orcs were aware of their presence, too.
He kept the crows a reasonable distance away, moving in a wide circle that he hoped was inconspicuous. If the other orcs had no druid with them, they likely wouldn’t notice at all; but if there was one amongst them, they very well might detect the crows’ unnatural behavior and grow suspicious.
Luckily, the camp seemed small from what he could see—he counted four horses tethered to one of the larger trees near the campfire, and four orcish figures moving in the fading light. More likely a hunting party split off from another group, but he saw no sign of a larger camp anywhere nearby.
Satisfied they were nothing to worry about, Korik released his hold on the crows, coming back into his body crouched amongst the trees. When the dizziness of the transition faded, he looked around quickly, but it seemed no one had noticed him. This was the most dangerous part of his powers: he had no awareness of his own body when he was listening to the earth or observing through the eyes of animals. If either of the elves had come across him in such a state, he would be hard-pressed for a believable explanation.
But no one had found him, neither elf nor beast. Dusting his hands off, Korik arose and set to work finding enough firewood to last them through the night.
“So, Healer Korik,” Varen prompted him after they’d set out the next morning. “I feel like I hardly know you. Tell us a bit about yourself, why don’t you?”
Korik stifled a scowl at the elf peering over his shoulder. So far, Varen had seemed content to mostly ignore him, which Korik would have far preferred. Had he already grown bored of only bothering his sister?
“Like what?” Korik asked.
“How long have you lived in Drol Kuggradh? What made you decide to stay there? I’m always curious aboutwhythe orcs who live there decided to go against the grain.”
Korik shrugged uncomfortably. The question was awkwardly personal. “I don’t know. Almost twenty years now. I took over my father’s duties when he died.”
“Family business, eh?” Varen remarked, already sounding disinterested. “I suppose that makes sense.”
Korik only nodded. They were silent for a moment, then Varen glanced over his shoulder to look at Korik again.
“Well, what else?” the elf finally prompted. “Any interesting hobbies?”
There was nothing interesting about him, Korik thought. He tended his herb garden, read books when he could get ahold of them, and kept Roz entertained.
“No,” he replied, and Varen snorted.
