He pulled off his apron and threw it into the empty crate, then darted out the back of the storeroom, making a wide loop back around to the rows of residential tents until he arrived at his own. He’d have to leave the tent behind to avoid too much suspicion; he could pack the necessities, but would probably have to leave most of his belongings behind as well. Alwyn could teleport them at least partway, the way he had done before—he’dlash the elf to his horse and gallop the rest of the way to Drol Kuggradh, if that was what he had to do.
Krujha had never packed so quickly in his life—a few changes of clothes, his bedroll, and the dry rations he still had packed away from their journey here. He started to pack away his extra cloak, then pulled it out on second thought; he would keep it close at hand to disguise Alwyn when he snuck the elf out. As long as he could keep Alwyn covered with the hood drawn up tight, and they moved quickly, it would just look like Alwyn was a child. Hopefully, Brugo would be in the stables and could get them a horse, but he could steal one if he needed to.
All these thoughts were racing through his head as he shouldered his rucksack and slipped back out into the camp. Even at this early hour, he was hardly the only orc walking around with gear for a journey still strapped to their back, as stragglers from the second camp were still trickling in. He pulled his own hood tight around his face, walking with purpose toward the command tent. Luckily, no one gave him a second glance.
As the command tent came into view, he could see it was much quieter than it had been just hours ago when he’d gone on his midnight walk. Maybe Zesh was still resting after whatever late-night meetings he had. There was a single guard outside the command tent, and just beyond it, he could see Alwyn’s tent was completely unguarded.
For just an instant, he was relieved—it would be easier than ever to just dart inside and sneak Alwyn away. But then it struck him: if the tent was unguarded, it almost certainly meant Alwyn was not there. His short-lived relief turned his blood cold, and he broke into a nervous jog toward the tent.
“Alwyn,no.” He didn’t even stop to see if anyone was looking in his direction before he wrenched the tent flap open and stumbled inside.
The tent was empty.
“No, no,no—”
Alwyn’s boots and cloak were missing, so he’d had time to put them on. There were no signs of a struggle, but the bedroll was unmade, as if he’d left as soon as he’d woken. Krujha dropped to his knees beside the mattress and reached under the pillow—the cotton sack he’d given Alwyn was still there, with both the bar of soap and the adventure novel inside.
Krujha stared at it for a moment, then shoved the sack into his own backpack.
Something bad had happened to him. Krujha didn’t know what, or why he knew it, but dread started creeping into the edges of his consciousness, making his heart pound.
He rushed back out of the tent, looking around wildly for any sign of the elf, or an indication of where he had gone. There was nothing nearby. He kept walking, turning in circles to take everything in, searching for something,anything—
His vision snagged a column of smoke coming up from one of the surrounding hills, and he thought it must be the very one Zesh had led him and Alwyn up to together, when they had that strange conversation about the rebellion. That had not been there before.
Krujha’s heart continued to sink. Alwyn was there; he was sure of it. He had to get to him somehow, but it seemed impossible now, especially if his cover was blown—
A firm hand grabbed his upper arm, pulling him back—he wrenched himself away, reaching for the dagger hidden on his thigh with a snarl—only to realize the hand was Brugo’s, looking at him with obvious distress.
“What are you doing here?” the man hissed, grabbing his arm again and pulling him off the main thoroughfare. “I told you to get out!”
“The elf I was with, Alwyn,” Krujha stammered, still unable to make sense of it all. “I think he’s in trouble. I can’t leave him behind—he’s not in the tent where they were keeping him.”
Brugo stared at him for a long moment, conflict obvious in his face. Finally, he grimaced, looking toward the northern perimeter of the camp.
“We just saddled a pony and brought it to the outer gate,” he muttered. “I bet it was for him.”
That confirmed Krujha’s suspicion entirely. “I have to go after him.”
“You’ll get yourself killed!” Brugo protested, his voice a harsh whisper now. “You should get out of here while you still can. Warn the city of what’s coming. There’s no shame in that.”
“Ihaveto go after him,” Krujha repeated, feeling his mouth twist into a snarl. He wrenched his arm out of Brugo’s grasp again, glaring at the other orc. His yellow eyes had widened in surprise. They both stood there, staring at each other uncertainly, until finally Brugo held up a placating hand.
“All right. All right,” he muttered, lifting the other hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, looking distressed. “Fuck it, then. Listen. One of the elves brought in with the new camp is a plant, a sorcerer—I just contacted him last night. We’re working on a plan to get the elves out if we have to, but he wanted to wait for the right moment. I think this is it. But it means everything is going to go sideways, andfast.If I help you get to your elf, you help us get the rest of the elves out. Deal?”
“Deal,” Krujha said instantly. “Let’s go right now.”
“I’ll get you a horse. You’ll never catch up on foot—they must have left at least ten, fifteen minutes ago,” Brugo said hurriedly as they started to walk, heading for the opposite side of the camp toward the stables. “Then I’ll get ahold of the sorcerer with the other elves—shit, I don’t know exactly what will happen. Let’sjust get him out and get back into the camp. We’ll figure it out from there.”
Krujha nodded, barely hearing the orc’s nervous explanation. All his own anxiety had dissipated in an instant, replaced with a cold, calculated calm that settled over him like a heavy blanket. This was it—the moment all his work had been leading up to for the past two years. He was going to save Alwyn and end this rebellion, once and for all.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Alwyn
Alwyn was barely aware of his surroundings as they climbed the hill, his mind racing with half-formed escape plans. He could try to kill Zesh now, but there were too many orcs nearby—surely he’d be struck down before he could get control of his horse enough to flee. He could teleport himself back down into the camp to try to find Krujha, but it was far more likely that a hundred other orcs would see him first.
He could just teleport himself away entirely, letting all the other chips fall where they might. That would be his most surefire way of surviving. But Krujha would have no idea what had happened to him, might waste hours or days trying to find him, enough to get himself killed. No, they had promised they wouldn’t leave each other behind.
