“Feel free to have a drink or food,” he said, lifting the goblet to his lips. “Then tell me why you’ve come and brought an elf into my camp.”
Krujha took the pitcher of water and poured himself a cup. It had been flavored with orange peel, but he could still taste the hint of wood from being stored in a barrel. This was a test, he was certain, so he considered every word before speaking. He drained his cup, then met Zesh’s eyes again.
“When I was twelve, your father summoned the adults of my clan to fight for him,” Krujha said. He could not stop the emotion from breaking through his voice as he spoke—but in this, it would be a point in his favor. All the most believable lies had some element of truth in them, a lesson he had learned long ago. “They left behind only me and two women with newborn children. When the rest of them never came back, I vowed Iwould someday have my vengeance on those who took the lives of my family, my clan.”
Zesh’s face had remained impassive as Krujha spoke, but he blinked when Krujha let out a humorless laugh. “And I think your rebellion is the best chance I have at killing more elves. I was too young to fight for your father, but I can fight for you.”
For a moment, Zesh remained silent. Krujha held his gaze until finally a small, weary smile cracked the other orc’s features.
“I will always have need of warriors,” he finally said, then took a long drink of his wine. “But tell me about this elf you brought with you. Why not kill him if you’re so eager?”
“The elf was a coincidence, mostly,” Krujha replied. “He was looking for your camp, too. I think he’s got a death wish. His magic seems strong—he fought me off at first, but then he said he’d work with me if I would bring him to the camp. That he was sick of seeing orcs in Aefraya, and would work directly with you if that was what it took to get them out.”
Zesh let out a bitter laugh at that, his eyes flickering in the direction that Krujha had come.
“There is some convoluted logic to that, I suppose,” he said, then added a bit louder, “What do you make of this, Yarug?”
Krujha turned. Zesh was not addressing the guard who had brought him here, who was now nowhere to be found. In his place stood the oldest orc that Krujha had ever seen. His long hair was entirely gray, and he was bundled up against the cold, so only his face was exposed. The skin Krujha could see was deeply lined, weather-worn, and leathery—a swampy green dotted with age spots.
Krujha had not seen or heard him approach; but now that he saw him, he knew without a doubt this was the druid. There was something in his presence that exuded magic in a way he had not experienced before. For a terrifying moment, he wondered if thepresence, which he now felt so acutely, was the druid somehow peering right into his mind.
After a moment, though, the druid took a slow and faltering step into the room, settling in one of the many open chairs near Zesh. That overbearing sense of being intensely watched faded, but Krujha could still feel his heart hammering anxiously against his ribs.
“I did sense a mage,” the druid finally said, his voice raspy with age. “It could be an elf. A strong one. I will examine him further.”
Zesh nodded. After a beat, Krujha turned back to him and broke the silence.
“I didn’t think you really had a druid working for you,” he said, sounding incredulous. Zesh only shrugged, seeming to deflect.
“We’ll keep the elf separated for now and look into this tomorrow,” he said, glancing over at Krujha again. “Welcome to the camp. You can go see Glasha near the dining hall, and she’ll assign you a place to put your tent, along with your duties around the camp.”
“Thank you, Warlord,” Krujha said, bowing his head again. Zesh turned away from him; recognizing the dismissal for what it was, Krujha slipped back out the way he came.
Getting into the camp had never been his main concern, but there was some relief in knowing that now he could walk relatively freely. First, he had to gather their belongings and check in with Glasha, whom he assumed was acting as quartermaster. Then he would have to find where they were keeping Alwyn.
The dining hall was a wide-open space filled with rows of wooden benches and tables below a towering, colorful canopy. It was past midday, so only a few tables were still occupied by orcs clustered in groups as they ate. Krujha approached the closest group to ask about Glasha, and they directed him to the nearby tent where most of the food preparation was handled.He stepped inside to find a tall, broad woman barking orders to several workers inside, and looking like she’d be just as much at home on a battlefield as she did here in the kitchen tent. She eyed him as he ducked into the tent, but didn’t acknowledge him until she was done with her workers.
“You’re new to the camp?” she asked brusquely, turning toward him.
“Yes, ma’am,” Krujha replied, smiling. She gestured for him to follow, leading him to a small office in a separate tent, where she rifled through some scrolls until she found what she was looking for. One appeared to be a map of the camp; as she examined it, Krujha tried to get a better look.
“Here we go,” she said, circling a spot on the map with a charcoal pencil. He noted the spot that she indicated, but did his best to scan the rest of the map quickly. Most everything was labeled, so he found the area marked “prisoners” easily enough. “There’s space for you here. The residential area is set up in a grid. You enter from this side, and the open spaces will be in the third column on your right. You don’t have to be right up against your neighbor, but don’t be taking up too much space, neither.”
“Understood,” he answered, nodding. She tucked the map away, much to his disappointment, to procure a second scroll.
“As for your duties, I could use you in the kitchen,” she said, examining the parchment. It appeared to be a duty roster. “You’re off the hook for today, but starting tomorrow, report to me in the kitchen tent after your morning meal. I’ll get you set up.”
Krujha forced a smile. Hours spent peeling potatoes, or tending to cooking fires, was hardly his idea of a good time; but he supposed it was better than mucking stables, or worse, latrine duty.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said. She waved him away.
Next were the horses. He went back the way he came, finding the stables easily enough, and saw that their horses were still being brushed out. He unloaded the saddlebags, taking as much as he could carry into his own rucksack, and went to set up his tent.
After he found a spot and had everything situated, he headed back out into the camp. He needed to find Alwyn. It had been hours since they’d last seen each other now, and the best-case scenario was that he had been completely alone the whole time. Krujha whistled as he traipsed through the wide walkways that snaked through the camp, his eyes lingering on every tent and structure he came across. Wherever Alwyn was being kept would surely be well-guarded, so even once he found the right place, he’d still have to figure out how to actually get to the elf. Hopefully, the camp had been quiet enough that the guards had become complacent, and he could sneak in without causing any trouble.
He followed the picture in his mind until he could pinpoint the location marked “prisoners” on Glasha’s map. The tent was a bit larger than some of the other structures around it; and its nondescript canvas walls stood out from other tents nearby. Krujha saw only one guard standing at the entrance and approached him with a grin.
“So how many elves are in there?” he asked, gesturing to the tent. The guard lifted an eyebrow at him, and Krujha chuckled. “Sorry, sorry. I just joined up today. Just curious.”
