"Indeed," said Athgar. "Lead on."
The house of Raleth was a single-room dwelling, with a central fire over which a pig was roasting, tended to by a grey-haired woman with long braids hanging down her back.
"My mother, Anweld."
"Greetings," said Athgar.
"You did not tell me we would have guests, Raleth."
"I did not know we would find them in the woods," he replied.
"Come," the woman said. "Sit and make yourselves comfortable. Shall I fetch you some mead?"
"If you would be so kind," said Athgar. He sat before the fire, waiting as Natalia took her place beside him. She looked pale, and he wondered again what ailed her.
"This is Athgar," said Raleth, "and his wife, Natalia."
The woman examined their faces, but if she was surprised by the presence of an outsider, she hid it well. "You are guests of my son and shall always have a place in this house."
"Are you always so welcoming of outsiders?" asked Natalia.
"Not generally, no, but then again, we encounter them so infrequently."
She turned her attention to Athgar. "You, on the other hand, are one of us. From what village do you hail?"
"Athelwald."
Anweld's eyes lit up. "The same as Skora," she said.
"You know her? Is she here?"
"I know her well, but she now serves the king, for no one else would have her. She spends her days in manual labour."
"She is a skilled cook," said Athgar.
"Maybe she once was, but now she is feeble and weak. Her trials have not been kind to her. Shall I send for her?"
"If it wouldn't be an inconvenience?"
"Not at all." She turned to her youngest son. "Harwath, stop staring at that pig and go and fetch the old woman."
"What old woman?"
She cuffed his ear, eliciting a shout. "Skora, the one we were just talking about. Have you no ears?"
He rose, his irritation quite evident. "I don't see why Raleth can't fetch her."
"Because he is their host. Now be about your business; we haven't got all day." Anweld turned to Athgar and Natalia as her son left the hut. "You must excuse him. He can sometimes be a bit thick."
"Sometimes?" said Raleth.
"Hush, now," she warned. "He's still your brother."
She passed out cups filled with mead, the aroma of honey held within its warmth.
Athgar took a sip, then downed the contents, pleased with the taste. Natalia sniffed hers but merely placed it on the floor, untasted.
"Are you not thirsty?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No, you can have it if you wish."
He took the proffered cup, lifting it to his lips.
"What has brought you here?" asked Anweld.
"We are searching for a place called Ebenstadt, but Raleth tells us it is to be avoided?"
"It is indeed. Might I ask the reason for your visit?"
Athgar was caught. Should he reveal he was sent by the Ancestors of the Orcs?
"I saw it in a dream," he lied.
"More of a nightmare, I should think. Still, it is a curious thing. Perhaps it is the will of the Gods. You should meet King Eadred. I'm sure he could help."
"What is King Eadred like?" asked Athgar.
Anweld paused before answering. "Like many kings, he is a busy man, but he's always eager for outside news. I'm sure he would agree to see you if you wish. In fact, I daresay he would insist on it."
"I should very much like to do so."
The door opened, revealing Harwath once more. "I found her." He stood aside, permitting Skora to enter.
The old woman walked with a stoop, looking quite frail, but there was no mistaking the light in her eyes. "Athgar, is that you?"
Athgar rose, going to her and throwing his arms around her. "Skora, it's so good to see you alive and well."
"Alive? Most certainly, but well? Not so much."
"Come, sit," he begged. "Let me introduce you to Natalia."
He led her across the room to where the mage had just risen. She held out her hand, but Skora moved closer, hugging her as well.
Natalia returned the gesture, then the old woman held her at arm's length, looking into her eyes.
"This is Natalia Stormwind," said Athgar. "She's my wife."
"She is more than that," said Skora. "She's carrying your child."
The Passes
Summer 1104 SR
(In the tongue of the Orcs)
Kargen stood to the side as his tribe walked by. For days they had travelled with little respite until their feet were blistered and sore. Now he gazed south to where the last few hunters brought up the rear. He spotted Laruhk and waved him over. The hunter broke into a jog, soon closing the distance.
"Where are the Humans?" asked Kargen.
"It is the strangest thing," replied his comrade. "They were hot on our trail only to turn aside for no apparent reason. The last we saw of them, they were heading southwest."
Kargen's face darkened.
"What is it?" asked Laruhk.
"I suspect the Duke of Krieghoff has attacked Ord-Kurgad. The Duke of Holstead is likely reacting to the invasion."
"Then we are safe!"
"Yes, but I fear our fellow villagers may have been lost to us. I must have Shaluhk consult the Ancestors."
Laruhk stared to the southwest as if he could actually see the distant village that had been their home. "There shall never be another place like it."
"Nonsense," said Kargen. "Ord-Kurgad is not a place. It is an idea that lives within the beating heart of this tribe. We shall rebuild, my friend, and the Orcs of the Red Hand will again prosper."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Can you not see? Fate has guided us here. We set out to head east and instead find ourselves fleeing north. It can be no coincidence that we are heading in the same direction as Athgar and Nat-Alia. Our destinies are intertwined. The Ancestors have suggested as much."
"Then we shall see them again?"
"Undoubtedly, providing we can make it through the mountain passes."
Laruhk turned his attention south once more. "At least the Humans are no longer following us."
"It is true that there is no longer danger behind us," said Kargen, "but
