“He’s probably briefing Fionia now,” Krujha said, taking on a more serious tone now. “We decided that when we reach the camp, Torlag and Fionia will go in together to get the lay of the land, while the rest of us wait a safe distance away. Torlag will report back to us once he finds out if Zesh is in the camp, and where, if he is. We didn’t want to send all the elves in at once to avoid raising suspicion. Less risky that way.”
Alwyn frowned, seeming unimpressed with the plan. “But it’s more risky for Torlag and Fionia.”
“Would you rather be the one to go in there?” Krujha asked. The elf grimaced and looked away. “Thought so. I asked Galred his opinion. He agreed with my reasoning and chose Fionia. I trust his judgment on that, at least. If things go well, she won’t be on her own for long, and we can get in and out quickly.”
Alwyn didn’t answer, his features pinched in a pensive expression. Krujha busied himself with shaking out his blankets and folding them up, while Alwyn stood there looking worried. Finally Krujha paused, turning to face him fully with his arms folded across his chest.
“I know it’s dangerous. We all know,” he said softly, and Alwyn’s gaze darted back up to meet his eyes. “I’ll do my best to keep everyone safe. Torlag will just be in there long enough to get some information. I don’t intend to leave them there by themselves longer than a night. No true harm should come to either him or Fionia, I promise.”
At that, Alwyn finally scoffed. “You can’t promise that.”
Krujha grinned, relishing how Alwyn’s frown only deepened at the expression. “Sure I can. I’ve charmed my way out of worse situations.”
Alwyn scoffed again, fully looking away.
“What, you don’t think I’m charming?” Krujha teased, leaning down to be closer to eye level with the elf, who shot him an annoyed glare.
“I think you’re an idiot,” he muttered, starting to walk away. After a few steps, though, he hesitated. “Krujha. You really think they’ll be alright?”
Krujha took a moment to look at him, considering. In all this time, he had never known Alwyn to care much for the other elves, and he seriously doubted that he had any special feelings toward Fionia, even if she was another Order member and roughly his age. No, he was a mage who didn’t question orders—with no strong morals or scruples—the perfect personto task with an assassination mission, secret even from his fellow mages. The best Krujha could figure, Alwyn was sent to eliminate Zesh if the extraction plan went south. And if he was trying to ensure he would be near enough to the would-be warlord when the time came, he was doing a poor job of subtly probing for an answer.
But that was just as well. Alwyn’s transparency suited him fine—it would be all the simpler to make sure things ended so that everyone got what they wanted. Some small part of him felt a pang of guilt seeing how the elf’s trust in him was solidifying, but another part of him knew nothing would stop him from completing his own mission, no matter how unexpectedly fond he’d become of the little assassin. With any luck, at the end of all this, Alwyn would live long enough to take control of his own life.
“Perhaps I can’t promise that everything will go smoothly and we’ll be heading to Drol Kuggradh this time tomorrow,” he finally said, his voice low and earnest. “But Iwilldo everything I can to make sure everyone involved in this mission gets to go home safely when it’s all said and done.”
He held Alwyn’s gaze. The elf had a bit of color rising in his face still, but his expression remained serious, reflecting Krujha’s tone. Finally, though, a hint of a smile played at the boy’s lips, and his eyes softened.
“You know,” he chuckled, turning to go. “Somehow, I almost believe you.”
Chapter Eleven
Alwyn
Alwyn couldn’t help but feel worried as they set out that morning, after eating a cold breakfast to avoid lighting a fire. If everything went according to Krujha’s plan, Fionia and the other orc, Torlag, would be entering the rebel camp before the end of the day. It was hard to trust the orc’s judgment, especially with so many variables still up in the air. On the one hand, Alwyn couldn’t deny the stupidly charming orc’s skills: not only was he composed and silent, moving virtually unnoticed whenever he wanted, but had clearly mastered the ability to act like he belonged in any environment. It was a skill Alwyn didn’t think he would ever truly perfect; he had spent all his time and effort learning how to use his magic effectively and efficiently.
On the other hand, just because Krujha was an excellent spy, there was nothing indicating he was a master strategist, too. And although Alwyn could not come up with a better way to gather the information, he also knew how quickly things could fall apart on such a dangerous assignment. Torlag might be perfectly capable—though he could not imagine the dour, stoic orc having skills equal to Krujha—and Fionia could hide her magic wellenough to play the part of a captive; but if Zesh was actually with this camp, there could be all sorts of extra precautions put in place to keep newcomers and outsiders from threatening the warlord.
The idea of Zesh being so close brought a whole other set of worries, too—like how Alwyn would get near enough to kill him before the rest of the group could attempt the capture and extraction. He hated how useless it felt being left behind, waiting for information that might not even be useful; more than that, he knew he couldn’t afford to be left out of the decision-making when they made the plan to actually capture Zesh.
Torlag’s voice shook Alwyn from his thoughts, pointing out to the group a haze of smoke in the distance, finally signaling the camp they were looking for. It hadn’t even reached midday; it was cold, but clear and bright, so the group halted its progress to avoid any chance of being detected by the rebel scouts.
Once they found a dip in the landscape with a ridge to break direct eyesight of the camp, things happened quickly. Krujha and Galred were conferring in low voices, looking out over the ridge, as the rest waited a few paces behind. After a moment, they gestured for Torlag and Fionia to join them. The four of them spoke amongst themselves for only a moment before Alwyn saw Fionia’s expression flicker, turning grim for a brief instant. She gave a nod, then looked to Torlag, who met her eye and returned the gesture.
Just like that, they moved to depart. Torlag pulled a rope from his saddlebags and tied it quickly around Fionia’s wrists. When the elf failed twice to mount the tall, orc-bred horse, Torlag lifted her by the waist and placed her sidesaddle. Alwyn was almost embarrassed for the fellow mage, but to her credit, Fionia’s expression remained as impassive as ever. Then Torlag mounted the horse in front of her, and they were off.
“We’re going to set up camp nearby to wait,” Krujha said, turning back to the rest of the group, his mouth a tight line around his tusks. “Torlag should check back in around sunset. We don’t want to be too close, and we’ll have a patrol around our camp to make sure we aren’t spotted by any scouts of their own. So don’t get too comfortable, in case we have to leave in a hurry.”
Alwyn sighed. It sounded less like they were making camp and more like they would just be sitting around waiting.
The group moved a little ways off until they found a suitable spot nearby with some tree cover. They still couldn’t risk starting a fire, so the crisp cold of the day quickly crept beneath Alwyn’s robes, giving him a chill. He used his magic to suffuse his clothes with warmth, but the cold air sapped it away within minutes.
There was no sense in splitting the group further, so they all sat in a cluster with the horses loosely tethered nearby. Everyone busied themselves with whatever minor tasks they could. To Alwyn’s surprise, Krujha pulled out a small roll of yarn and a set of woolen socks, one of which had a hole in the toe, and started darning the hole.
Alwyn glanced around. Myrra had taken scouting duty, while her two peers sat across from each other, one reading a book and the other making notes on a small scroll. Galred sat with his back ramrod straight against a tree—legs crossed, hands resting loosely on his knees, and his eyes closed—whether he was meditating or napping, Alwyn couldn’t say. But none of them were paying attention to him, not even Krujha.
He had only so many ways to pass the time. So he reached into his saddlebag and carefully pulled out both books, shielding the smaller novel from view with the heavy arcane tome. He found a place to sit a little further from the rest, surreptitiously hid the novel in the open book, and set to re-reading.
The day dragged on, maddeningly slow. Alwyn read his book all the way through and had taken to begrudgingly reading the actual textbook he’d disguised it with. Eventually, it grew too dark to read at all—the realization filled Alwyn’s stomach with dread. Torlag was supposed to return at sunset, but there was no sign of him.
