Torlag started to open his mouth to say something, but instead he let out a gasp, as if he’d been punched. It took a moment for Alwyn to realize what he was seeing in the dim light—from his throat, blood bloomed around the head of an arrow. The enchanted parchment fell from his hands as he reached up to clutch at his throat, fluttering down into the grass amid a stream of lifeblood.
He’d been followed.
“Shit,” Krujha hissed, leaping back from the dead body, now collapsing to the ground and bleeding out. “Get the horses. Now! Now!”
But it was too late. Galred had readied himself in a combat stance again, gesturing for Alwyn to follow him. He fell into the motion easily; with identical sweeping motions, they raised the earth up around Torlag’s body to drag it down, hiding the evidence, then lifted a separate mound to give them some cover, hoping to buy them a few more seconds to flee. Or fight.
And it did seem to be a fight. He could see the flicker of torchlight now, closer than he thought—without having to think, he reached out with his magic and extinguished the lights, causing a confused shout to rise from the distant orcs.
“We can’t take an entire camp,” Krujha was calling from behind them. “They won’t be alone. Come on!”
Alwyn looked askance at Galred again, who seemed to hesitate, considering their options.
“There were at least four,” he said, peering into the darkness. “We have the advantage, but—they were already suspicious of Torlag. No, fighting won’t accomplish anything. Let’s go.”
“But Fionia!” Alwyn protested, and this time Galred couldn’t hide the anger that crossed his face.
“You’ve received your orders, High Sorcerer,” he snapped, turning away. Somehow he managed to look graceful, even as he ran for his horse.
Alwyn felt rooted to the spot, turning wildly between the camp and the group mounting their horses.
No, he couldn’t leave an elf to suffer the same fate—especially not another elf of the Order. He turned toward the camp.
“Alwyn!” Krujha’s voice shouted from after him. Alwyn winced, but ignored him—suddenly, he was being lifted frombehind and dragged in the opposite direction. “What the hell are you thinking?”
Krujha had grabbed a fistful of his robes and was now trying to haul him up onto his horse, forcing him to flee. Alwyn struggled angrily against his grip. “Let me go!”
“She’ll be fine, Alwyn, but we can’t risk the rest of us being found. We have to go now!”
“I’m not leaving her behind!” he snarled. Magic flooded him, gripping Krujha’s arm with all the force he could muster, prying his fingers open. The orc shouted in surprised pain, dropping him—Alwyn landed heavily on all fours, but scrambled quickly to his feet. “Go without me. I’ll catch up. But I’m not leaving one of my Order behind.”
The sound of the approaching orc party was louder than ever, shouting— “Horses! Horses!”
“Gods damn it all, Alwyn,” he heard Krujha growl—then the orc was beside him, having leapt off his own horse. “Fine. Let’s go. Quickly.”
Alwyn stared at him, dumbfounded, but only for an instant. Fury was obvious on the orc’s face, but he was goingwithAlwyn. Then they were both sprinting for the camp, making a wide circle around the orcs now chasing Galred and the other elves on horseback.
If they were lucky, the party wouldn’t notice their two abandoned horses—but judging from how the rest of the night had gone, Alwyn doubted things would work out in their favor.
“This is the most foolish thing you’ve ever done, Alwyn,” Krujha was hissing as they made their way, eventually veering back around toward the rebel camp. Alwyn mostly ignored him, focusing on the burn of his heaving breath in his lungs.
“Shut up,” Alwyn growled, refusing to even look at him. “Unless you want us to be found.”
“She would have been fine—Galred chose her for this mission because he knows she can take care of herself.”
“Go follow Galred, then!”
“I’m not letting you get captured by rebels again.”
For some reason, that infuriated Alwyn more than anything else the orc had said—he rounded on Krujha with a snarl on his face.
“So you understand where I’m coming from, then!” he snapped. Even in the darkness, he saw Krujha’s expression falter. A tiny bloom of satisfaction broke through the overwhelming wall of stress—that at least seemed to shut the orc up for the moment.
He could see the outline of the camp in the distance now, low campfires illuminating the inner portions. It was much more sprawling than he’d anticipated, though he supposed that if Zesh had taken the effort to visit, it must have been one of the larger rebel camps.
“We shouldn’t get much closer,” Krujha said quietly as they slowed, his voice a low rumble beside Alwyn. “Let’s follow the perimeter. If they’re keeping prisoners, it’s probably along the edge, closer to wherever the guard tent is.”
Alwyn nodded, and they started circling the camp, far enough away that any orcs within the camp would be hard-pressed to spot them in the darkness. All Alwyn could really see, though, were the backsides of the tall tents that orcs used for larger camps like this, made of thick canvas and meant to stand in place for weeks, or even months, at a time. They all had wide spaces between them; sometimes a campfire was dotted in between, or posts where horses or mules were tethered, but there was no sign of any captives.
