“He’s not an adopted father or anything, then? Just a teacher?”
Color rose in Alwyn’s face again, though this time it seemed more indignant, as he shot Krujha an annoyed look. Now,thatwas a thread worth following.
“No,” he said. “But he is more than a teacher, too. Without his guidance, I don’t know where I would be.WhoI would be.”
“Then he should be happy to help you find this out,” Krujha said. From his silence, and the way Alwyn’s shoulders tensed at the suggestion, he suspected their relationship was perhaps not as amicable as Alwyn was trying to portray.
“Maybe,” Alwyn said. “It’s not exactly what I’m worrying about at the moment, though.”
Hewasworrying about it right at that moment, but Krujha decided against pointing out the obvious.
“When all this is done, then,” Krujha said, smiling despite Alwyn’s scowl. “I hope you can find the answers you’re looking for. Truly.”
The elf was silent for a moment, his hands growing still. When he met Krujha’s gaze, his brow was furrowed, but his expression was more searching now—as if wondering what Krujha might have meant—wondering if he was telling the truth.
“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice soft. He glanced back down at their basket. “Me too.”
Warmth bloomed in Krujha’s chest. Part of him wanted to prod Alwyn into telling him more—to hear about this mysterious mentor or the place the elf might have come from—but he didn’t want to push him away. Besides, he really had no justifiable need to know more. Still, he wanted to understand the elf; and it seemed like Alwyn wanted to share more, but didn’t know how, stunted little thing that he was. They had time, Krujha thought. He would get there, if slowly.
“Well, then. Let’s see if we can’t nab a few fish for dinner, hm?” Krujha offered, lightening his tone, as he grinned down at the elf. Alwyn still seemed flustered and uncertain for a moment, then he nodded and followed as Krujha led him further downstream.
They didn’t have much luck with fishing in the creek; but Krujha recognized an edible river weed along the banks, so they gathered up handfuls of that instead. The roast mutton the troupe had shared with them was becoming a distant, delicious dream; they had enough rations to sustain them until they arrived at the rebel camp, but it was much less enjoyable fare, even with the berries and greens they foraged.
By the time they caught back up with their group, Alwyn’s demeanor returned to his usual standoffish and quiet self. But as they parted ways to sort through their haul and add it to their crate of rations, Alwyn paused, glancing up at Krujha with color rising in his face again.
He didn’t say anything, standing motionlessly before Krujha until he raised an eyebrow. He tried to give him an encouraging smile, but this only seemed to fluster the boy more. His cheeks reddened as he stammered out something unintelligible.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” he finally said, more clearly and in orcish, rather than the elvish the group had settled on using. The elves all spoke orcish at a decent enough level, but there were only himself and Torlag left; and besides, it wasn’teasy for anyone without tusks to speak it. So the effort Alwyn had put into the simple phrase took Krujha by surprise, and he felt that same warmth bloom in his chest at the realization. “For... being nice to me.”
His orcish was accented, but it was endearing. Krujha gathered his wits enough to shoot Alwyn a wide smile, relishing in the flush that continued to climb up his face.
“You don’t have to say thank you for that,” he replied, answering in orcish. “I like being nice to you.”
Alwyn looked away, mumbling under his breath again, before switching back to elvish. “Same time tomorrow?”
Krujha chuckled, wondering how one awkward, prickly elf could be so adorable. “Same time tomorrow. Unless you’d like me to be nice to you more between now and then.”
“I don’t—I don’t—” Alwyn stammered, his face now redder than ever. “I don’t know what you mean.”
With that, he turned and scrambled away. Krujha had to stifle a laugh before it could escape his throat.
He had met plenty of elves, but never one like Alwyn. It was a shame they would never see each other again after this mission. The thought was sobering. If things went as Krujha hoped, he probably wouldn’t be able to return to Drol Kuggradh, while Alwyn would go back to his Library.
But his own mission was too important. He couldn’t let himself be distracted.
Still, there was no harm in enjoying riling the elf up while they still had time. That, at least, he could find no argument against.
Chapter Eight
Alwyn
“I have been lax in our training this first week on the road with our new allies,” Galred said, his tone imperious, as he looked at each of the elves gathered around him in turn. “Now that we have all found our bearings, I will not be so lenient. We must ensure that each of us is well-suited to the task ahead.”
Alwyn had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. If they weren’twell-suited to the task ahead, they wouldn’t be here at all—not that he could say as much to the senior elf. Galred reported directly to Tessarion, so if Galred wanted them doing drills or sparring in their downtime, he could hardly refuse.
“We will pose as mundane elves captured by orcs in order to infiltrate the rebel camp,” Galred continued. “Orcs with magic are uncommon, but far from an impossibility. We must assume the camp will have an orc capable of detecting our magical capability. Thus, we must maintain our practice of shielding our spark, masking it well enough that we seem like simple folk unable to avoid capture by orcs, without magical ability of our own.”
This time, Alwyn couldn’t stop the sigh of disappointment that escaped him, though internally he wanted to groan in dismay. Shielding was his least favorite practice, one of the few feats of magic that he had not been able to pick up easily. No, if he were being honest with himself, it was always a struggle, even now. He could recall hating the communal practice when it was first taught to him—how the other mages would immediately become aware of a weakness in his study, and detect a deeper well of magic in him than the rest, which in his fellow students bred an immediate jealousy. And though their instructors insisted that anyone with a spark could accomplish great feats of magic given enough dedication, his ability to quickly excel in everything else only gave the others another reason to push him away.
