Somewhere he’d be remembered and appreciated. Maybe that alone would be worth it.
So he kept himself busy planning how he would pack up his belongings, what he could sell or leave behind, who he would tell he was leaving—repeating the plan over and over in his head, trying to think of anything he might be missing. He had all sorts of herbs and medicines, more than he could travel with; he ran through the list a hundred times or more, deciding which were crucial, which he would need the most of, which he could get away without. How did other healers deal with carrying all their supplies when they were part of a clan? He tried to remember how his father did it, back when he was a child traveling with a clan; but it was something a child would never have considered or cared about, and he came up empty.
But he would figure something out. Even if he could only take what he could physically carry, his magic would do a lot of the heavy lifting.
They had actual tents again, one for each of them, so when they set up camp in the evening, it was in a circle around the campfire. Sometimes he and Varen were across from each other, and sometimes next to each other; but Korik still did his best to ignore the elf until he could retreat to his tent. It was only a small measure of privacy, but better than none at all.
K’lir, the little traitor, would still often amble over to Varen in the evenings for scratches and pets, even warming up to the other two elves. But he always came back to Korik to sleep in his tent, curling up under the blankets with him; more than once, Korik fell asleep to the sound of the cat purring. His presence was the only thing about the entire journey that Korik enjoyed.
He had been keeping up with the training Myrla showed him as well as he could, though when they were in the privacy of his tent, Korik would use his magic to touch the kit’s mind directly. It was mostly to get K’lir used to it; but he would often praise the kit for doing well that day, or try to better explain things he had not understood. Now, K’lir didn’t seem bothered by the sensation at all and would sometimes even come to Korik in the evening as if expecting it—their own little ritual.
On the fifth day, Drol Kuggradh came into sight: the shape of the only orc city was unmistakable in the distance. The journey was over, Korik thought with relief, and he would finally be free of Varen’s presence for good.
As the city became more defined, they spotted someone leaving the city gates and heading toward them—another elf, on horseback. The elf approached rapidly, meeting them on the road. Varen and Lyielle had gone ahead a bit to meet the scout, but were still close enough that Korik could just overhear their conversation.
“Commander Petkas,” the scout said, clearly recognizing Varen. “We’ve been searching for you.”
“I hope I didn’t worry you all too much,” Varen replied, and Korik could all but hear the smirk in his voice. “Healer Korik and I had some mishaps, but we’ve made it back.”
“The king will want to see you right away,” the scout said, nodding. “I’ll ride ahead and alert King Zorvut that you’ve returned.”
“And speak with the quartermaster too, please, so rooms in the barracks are ready for Ranger Lyielle and Junior Scout Taneas here,” Varen said. “They’ve come all the way from Solitude with us, and deserve a few days’ rest before heading back, I think.”
“Solitude?” the elf repeated, surprised. “I mean—of course. Commander.”
He gave a brief salute, then turned his horse around and galloped back toward the city.
Korik heard Varen sigh. “Back to reality,” the elf said, sounding... Disappointed? Sad? It was hard to tell, especially from a distance.
They continued on their way. The gates were open to them as they arrived; they dismounted their horses, and Varen turned around to look first at the elf scout, then at Korik.
“Healer Korik and I will go on ahead,” Varen said stiffly. “Lyielle, Taneas, please report to the quartermaster. I’ll meet with you both later.”
“Yes, Commander,” Lyielle said smoothly, gesturing for Taneas to follow her. The pair headed toward the barracks.
Varen looked at him, his mouth working as if he might speak—so Korik strode past him before he could get the words out.
“Come on,” he said faintly, not turning back. After a beat, he heard the elf’s footsteps hurrying after him. Korik kept up the pace until he arrived at the tower, where the king would be expecting them. An elf standing guard stepped forward to meet them, and only then did Korik pause long enough to let Varen stand beside him.
“Commander. Healer,” the guard said, bowing his head to them both. “King Zorvut and Prince Taegan are ready for you in the conference room. Follow me, please.”
Korik let Varen get ahead of him now, trailing behind as they followed the guard into the tower. The conference room was on the first floor behind a sturdy wooden door; an orc standing guard pushed the door open and gestured for them to enter.
The king and the prince were sitting on the far side of a long, heavy table with a world map stretched across it, two empty chairs waiting for them on the closer side of the table. They both looked over at Varen and Korik as they entered. King Zorvut had a weary expression, while Taegan offered a smile when his eyes landed on Korik.
“Commander Petkas,” King Zorvut said, gesturing for them to sit. Varen bowed his head before sitting down; Korik did the same, ignoring how close they sat together. “Healer Korik. I’m relieved you’ve both found your way back to Drol Kuggradh. Unharmed, I hope?”
“Thank you, King Zorvut,” Varen replied, his voice even. “Luckily, yes, we are unharmed.”
Korik nodded silently.
“The last report I have from you indicates you had tracked the rebellion’s primary camp and were closing in on them in the west,” King Zorvut said. Korik stopped himself from frowning—had he ever seen Varen sending reports back? There must have been some sort of elven magic at work, as surely he would have noticed paper missives being sent by raven. “What happened after that?”
“Before we left Castle Aefraya, the sorcerer we rescued gave me a teleportation rune,” Varen replied. “He told me to use it if I ever needed to make a quick getaway. Unfortunately, we were spotted as we approached the rebel camp, and we tried to flee but weren’t able to escape. So I used the teleportation rune to try and get us back here, but... My magical ability is apparently lacking, as we ended up quite far from our destination.”
“Is it true you came from Solitude?” Prince Taegan asked, speaking up for the first time.
“Yes, my prince,” Varen answered. “We were teleported to the mountains of Krag Gabriz. Solitude was the closest place we could reach, so we made our way there. It was slow going, but we did eventually make it.”
