Jekha’s eyebrows raised. He could feel Alwyn tense beside him, but still the elf remained silent. “Sounds like you have quite a story of your own, too. Maybe this is a conversation best saved for after supper, then.”
All Krujha could think about as they settled in the camp was that someone else from his clan wasalive.He sat down beside Jekha as supper was served and waited for the orc to recount how he’d ended up here.
Krujha was eager, but Jekha seemed more withdrawn as he ate, as if dreading the retelling. It surely was not a pleasant tale, but Krujha couldn’t stifle how badly he wanted to know everything that had happened to him in the years since their last meeting.
Finally, after sopping up the last bits of a vegetable stew from his bowl using a chunk of hard, crusty bread, Jekha sighed and turned to Krujha. “First, tell me what happened to everyone who was left behind.”
Krujha winced. “The women took me and the other children to Drol Kuggradh. I think they joined up with another clan traveling through then. I stayed in the city and started workingthere. I haven’t seen them since, so I couldn’t tell you more than that. Sorry.”
Jekha shook his head. “No need to apologize. Any knowledge is better than none.” He sighed, looking into the fire with a wistful expression for a moment before adding, “I often wondered about Morna and Mazoga, and their babies. Every time I meet a child about that age, I wonder if that might be one of them. I remember Mazoga’s boy. Do you know if Morna had a son or a daughter?”
Krujha tried to remember as much as he could about the two women left behind with him. He did not think Jekha had been the father of either the newborn babe, nor the one still in Morna’s belly; but it had been long enough ago now that he couldn’t quite recall who was. When they separated in Drol Kuggradh, the baby had not yet been born.
“I don’t know. She was still pregnant when we parted ways,” he said softly. He had been only a child himself, but some part of him now regretted having been so quick to leave the women behind. He thought he’d been doing them a favor—one less mouth to worry about feeding—but now the only remaining threads to his clan were lost to the wind.
“That’s alright,” Jekha said, seeming to sense his disquiet. “You were just a boy. I could hardly blame you for doing what you needed to do to survive.” Krujha nodded. Jekha let out a deep, heavy sigh before turning to look at him. “I’ll tell you what happened to me, then.”
“I can give you some privacy,” Alwyn said softly, startling Krujha—the elf had been so quiet he’d nearly forgotten he was there. But Jekha shook his head, gesturing for him to sit back down.
“No, stay. It’s not a tale I repeat often, and I don’t want to tell any of it again,” he said. Alwyn hesitated, but then satback down. Krujha shot him a quick, grateful smile; but Alwyn’s expression remained tense as he met Krujha’s eyes.
“It is true that everyone else who was conscripted with me has perished. I’m sorry,” Jekha said. Krujha couldn’t stop the way his shoulders sagged at the confirmation. He’d expected as much, but hearing it confirmed was a blow. “There was a battle that we lost—our forces were utterly decimated. I was wounded, left for dead. I don’t know how long I was lying there waiting to die when scavengers came to the battlefield. They found me alive, and they brought me back to their camp.”
As he spoke, one of the human translators came around to take the dirty bowls from those still sitting around the campfire. Jekha paused uncertainly until the man had stepped further away.
“I still thought I would die,” he said, glancing at Krujha again. The pain in his expression was palpable. “For days I lingered, and the most they could do was give me water and a place to lie down. I was delirious with fever, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted the suffering to end. How a quick death would truly have been a mercy… But I didn’t die. Eventually, the fever waned, and my wounds started to heal. It took some time before I could walk, and my knee has never stopped aching. But I lived when everything in me believed I should have died.”
“There was no healer?” Alwyn asked softly, frowning with concern. Jekha shook his head.
“It was a ragtag group, just trying to find things to sell. If any of them had that sort of magic, they would not have been there to begin with. They weren’t even a clan—only a group following the army from a distance.”
“How long did you stay with them?” Krujha asked.
“Not long. They followed the armies, and when I realized I wasn’t going to die, I decided I wouldn’t spend another minute bringing death and misery to anyone—myself or others. I had asecond chance at life—a gift beyond anything I could imagine. Of course, I couldn’t risk being found by the army, either, and being slain as a deserter. So when the scavengers went into the city to sell the things they’d found, I remained on the road. There was a merchant camping outside the city walls at the same time, and I joined their caravan. I’ve been traveling with them ever since. I spent most of these past years in Autreth, actually. It’s only been in the past year or so that business has picked up. We just set out a few weeks ago from Aefraya to pick up the shipment in Drol Kuggradh, and that was the first time I’d come back to the wildlands.”
He fell silent, still looking pained. Krujha had a hundred questions he wanted to ask, but he could tell Jekha was unlikely to answer. Still, some things he couldn’t just ignore.
“Did you ever think of going back to the coast?” he asked quietly. “To see if the clan was still there?”
Jekha shook his head, looking even sadder somehow. “No. I knew you would all be gone. Two women and four children—that’s not even the start of a clan. I knew they would have found another to join. There was nothing for me there—not even hope—so I never returned.”
Silence settled between them. Jekha still wore a faraway look, but Krujha was busy absorbing everything he had learned. Something about the story unsettled him. He couldn’t quite place it at first; but the longer he thought about it, the more he felt—not angry, not resentful—almost disappointed.
After all Jekha had gone through, he had given up the fight. He’d gone to an entirely different country instead of trying to prevent what happened to him from happening to other orcs. Not everyone could be a fighter, sure, but—couldn’t he have done anything else, rather than run away?
“I am sorry to hear things were so difficult for you,” Krujha finally said, reaching over to clasp the older orc’s shoulder. Andhe truly was sorry, despite his own disquiet. Their suffering had been so different, but it all had the same tainted root. “And I am glad you made it as far as you did, my cousin.”
“Tell me a little of how you’ve ended up here,” Jekha prompted him. Krujha managed a smile. He couldn’t tell Jekha much, but he could give a little more detail than he had already, he supposed—despite the palpable sense of unease coming from Alwyn on the other side of him.
“Well, I stayed in Drol Kuggradh, as I said,” Krujha started. “I was an errand boy to keep food in my belly. Some of my... employers noted how I was quiet and discreet. And I started working for those who prioritized those qualities in their messengers. From there, I was given increasing responsibility until I was working for those who reported to the Silvertongue directly.”
“And you work for her now?”
Krujha was silent for a beat, meeting Jekha’s eyes steadily. “Not exactly. I don’t work for anyone anymore. But I’m doing a favor for her now.”
Jekha sighed, leaning back. “That’s a dangerous game, Krujha. But I suppose it’s one you’ve been playing long enough now that you don’t need some old merchant saying so.”
“I know. And it’s a risk that I’m willing to take,” Krujha said. This time he let some of his emotion through in his voice—his conviction, his urgency. “There is nothing I care more about than ending this war, once and for all. So nothing like what happened to me—to either of us—ever happens again.”
