The camp was quiet and tense, a sense of anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Without a word, each of the elves had summoned a single globe of light to illuminate their makeshift camp, the cool light giving everything an eerie tint.
“What will we do if he doesn’t come back tonight?” Alwyn asked quietly as they sat in a circle eating a cold supper of bread and cheese. No one had set up their tents yet, but the later it got, the more likely it seemed that they would need to rest before taking any further action. Krujha and Galred glanced at each other; it was Galred who finally answered.
“He will return.”
That didn’t answer his question, Alwyn thought irritably, but he held his tongue.
Sleep was tugging at his eyelids when a faint whistle signaled the return of their scout, and the quiet camp suddenly came to life with an anxious energy. Krujha and Galred both stood; Alwyn could tell from the elf’s stance that he was ready to use his magic to defend himself at a moment’s notice. Krujha’s eyes darted rapidly in the darkness, seeking the light of a torch or magical glow.
The elf now on scouting duty, Daine, emerged from the darkness, and a few steps behind him was Torlag. Alwyn looked past him, hoping to see Fionia following, but it seemed to be justthe two of them. Worry leapt up into his throat at the thought of her alone in the camp at the mercy of the rebel orcs, but he pushed it down.
“Well?” Krujha said as the pair of them approached. Torlag sighed before speaking, and his heart sank.
“Zesh isn’t there,” he said, and Alwyn’s breath left him all in a rush. His own response went unnoticed, though, as everyone else also seemed to deflate a bit at the news. “It took some time to gather information about where he’d gone. I wrote it all down here—” He pulled a tightly rolled scroll from within his cloak and handed it to Krujha, who pocketed it without opening it. “—but he left this camp just over a week ago, heading further northwest. I’m not certain, but I suspect the camp there is the primary seat of his power, even larger than this one.”
“Any idea how far it is?” Krujha asked, folding his arms across his chest with a frown.
“Not too far. A few days.”
“And Fionia?” Galred asked. Torlag winced.
“They have a handful of elves in this camp, maybe ten or so. She’s with them. I think they’re mostly merchants who were intercepted on the roads. None seemed like mages or soldiers to me.”
“Were they—” Alwyn heard himself asking, swallowing hard around the words when everyone’s attention swung over to him. “Were they sedated?”
Torlag was silent for a beat. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Maybe?How could he be uncertain of something so obvious? No one else seemed as annoyed by his lack of answer, though, then Krujha spoke again.
“We’ll head for the other camp at first light, then. It might take us an extra day or two to give this camp a wide enough berth to avoid detection. Would you be able to join us?”
“I don’t think so,” Torlag said, shaking his head. “It would arouse too much suspicion if the two of us were to leave. It’s big, but not so big that no one would notice two newcomers leaving the next day. Go without us, and we’ll figure something out.”
“We can’t leave her behind!” Alwyn exclaimed, the words escaping him before he could even process them again.
“Alwyn,” Galred said, displeasure obvious on his face. “Mind yourself.”
“She’ll be alright,” Krujha added in a softer tone. “And if there are other elves there, I’m sure she can help them better than we could. It won’t be for long. Torlag will keep an eye on them.”
Torlag nodded silently behind Krujha. Alwyn wasn’t convinced, but forced himself to swallow down the fury building in his chest. He wasn’t the one calling the shots—and maybe she would be alright—maybe it would be different from what happened to him.
Krujha’s eyes lingered on him even as Galred spoke again.
“We must focus on our own mission,” he said. “Fionia is well-trained. I trust her to handle herself, and whatever plan she and Torlag devise.”
“I agree,” Krujha said, though he still held Alwyn’s gaze for a beat longer. “I’ll review this information when we’re on the road. You shouldn’t linger, Torlag.”
The orc nodded and turned to go.
“Wait!” An idea struck Alwyn, and he spun on his heels to scramble for his bag—he’d been acting and speaking far too much on instinct tonight, but he couldn’t bring himself to care just then. Tucked away in a hidden pocket of his rucksack was a small, enchanted scroll—the two-way parchment he shared with Tessarion, to report back on his missions while out in the field. He’d had no need of it yet, so the only ink on it was the exchange they’d shared in his previous mission: a handful of words writtenin a cramped script to conserve as much of the precious resource as possible.
If Fionia was going to be left alone with the orcs, they should at least have a way of communicating with Torlag about their status. Before he could think too much about it, Alwyn ripped off a piece of the scroll near the bottom, then hurried back to the group. Galred was looking at him with obvious disapproval. He ignored the other elf as he ripped the smaller piece in half again to create a linked pair, then handed one slip of parchment to Torlag.
“Here,” he said, still too frustrated to look the orc in the eye. “It’s a piece of enchanted parchment. Whatever you write on it will appear on my own corresponding piece. You’ll have to keep it brief, but you can update us with it.”
Torlag looked down at the tiny slip of parchment in his hand. He was sure that the orc didn’t recognize what a show of trust this was—or the pointed look Galred shot Alwyn, telling him without words that they would have a conversation about this later.
But he didn’t care. What was the point of all these powerful magical secrets if they weren’t using them to keep one of their own safe? He and Fionia might not be friends, but they were both elves of the Order—whatever rivalry they had within the Library meant nothing out in the field. When he had been in Fionia’s place, he would have given anything for even a scrap of hope.
