“Koris was an honorable orc. He only wanted to do what was right. But he was playing a dangerous game. If he kept his family in Ruk, he would have been endangering all of them. So, they moved out here from Ghun-Ra. And he wasn’t the only one. Several folks from the valley moved with them.”

  “Valley folk?” Zarni mused. His own people? Or, he supposed, the predecessors to his people. If they’d left hundreds of years earlier, it made sense that others would fill the valley, taking up residence in the free opportunity. In a strange way, he felt connected to these people. Even oddly beholden to them.

  They parked the wagon next to a wide gap where the canyon wall recessed. A sign above a door in the stone said ‘tavern,’ and Zarni shook his head. They have a tavern and everything.

  A goblin came scurrying out as if he’d been watching them through some unseen peep hole, awaiting his chance to greet them. But Zarnikorek learned quickly it had nothing to do with him or Tobin.

  “Greetings, Missus Milirore!” the goblin said with a low bow. “I am delighted to see you. I did not expect you’d return so soon. I have already cleaned your room, and it is ready for you to stay again, if you’d like. I’d be so honored to have you stay at Krik’s Hollow. As always, my lady.”

  Zarni smirked. Seems she has that effect on everyone.

  The goblin clerk spoke with nervous energy and the way his green cheeks rosed made Zarni wonder if his own cheeks had been so obvious when he’d met the lovely elf. The thought made him blush again.

  “Hello, Lenk. I am grateful for your warm welcome, as usual. I hope to ask you to extend it to my new friends as well.”

  “Of course, Missus. Of course. Happy to oblige! Can I help you with your—” Lenk’s words halted as he caught sight of Gregory. The boulder goat stood with his chin held high, eyeing the goblin that wasn’t Zarni.

  Tobin laughed. “I think I’ll get Gregory unhooked, but maybe you can help me get him to a good spot? Is this area over here alright? He’s a fine beast. Mighty fine. Maybe even the strongest boulder goat in all Finlestia. But he’s a might touchy when it comes to new folks. But look at that beard. Have you ever seen the like? He’s easily—”

  “I’m sorry,” Zarni cut the halfling off. “Over there is fine?”

  “Oh … Uh, yes,” Lenk responded, now curiously staring at the halfling with the same bewildered look he’d just been giving the boulder goat.

  “Are Master Gahljik and Katonka here for breakfast?” Milirore asked.

  The sound of her voice seemed to snap Lenk back to the situation at hand. “Aye, Missus. They only just arrived.”

  “Fantastic,” she said, walking over and giving Gregory a loving pet. She stroked the boulder goat’s beard as Tobin unhooked the beast. Gregory leaned into her affection, clearly unable to resist the elf’s charm either.

  Krik’s Hollow bustled with the morning crowd. Again, Zarni found himself with open-mouthed wonder. How big is Krik? he wondered. Sconces burned with firelight along the rough-hewn stone walls, allowing Tobin to see inside the place without needing a dark sight spell to aid his vision. The halfling ate with fervor, surprising their hosts. Zarni found their bulging eyes rather humorous.

  Gahljik and Katonka, as Zarni had come to find out, were not married as he’d initially assumed. Gahljik had been the leader of Krik for years, but Katonka and her people had only arrived several months earlier. The orc woman’s eyes looked tired. Her face had a softness to it, as though she had painted a fierceness upon it for years before a long jaunt of worry washed over it.

  “When Ruk was lost,” Katonka explained, causing a brick to form in Zarnikorek’s stomach, “myself and several of my fellow wyvern riders fled to the south. Though we didn’t make it very far. My own wyvern, Kahren, had been mortally wounded in the battle. We lost two others while we were on the run. But we knew we needed to get as far away from Ruk as possible.”

  Katonka paused for a long time, her gaze falling to the wooden table in front of them.

  Gahljik placed a comforting hand on her arm. “Krik is a safe haven,” he said. “Not many people know of this place.”

  “We didn’t even know about it,” Katonka continued. We traveled around the mountains, not staying in any single place for too long, for fear of being discovered.”

  “Why were you hiding?” Tobin asked, between bites.

  “Because we were on the wrong side of a war that we never wanted to fight,” Katonka said coldly.

  Gahljik patted her arm. “You’re safe here. Among friends. Tell them the rest.”

  Katonka growled, but heaved a heavy sigh. “We had no food. No home. We snuck into towns and raided what we could in the night. We tried not to take more than we needed, but we were desperate.”

  Zarnikorek shook his head, and his brow crinkled with compassion. He couldn’t imagine.

  “One night, one of my orcs decided to visit a local tavern. He was distraught. Hadn’t seen his family in months. The isolation was getting to him. He snuck into town without my permission, but when he returned to us the next morning, he brought news of a town of rebels. A myth, really. Hearsay at best. But we had no other hope. What choice did we have but to believe it possible?”

  “Hope is a powerful thing,” Milirore said from behind her steaming mug of tea. “A beautiful thing.”

  “Aye,” Katonka grumbled. “So, we searched. And searched. And searched.”

  Gahljik chuckled. It was a warm and hearty chuckle. “The canyon is well hidden. Unless you know where to look,” he said with a wink toward Zarni.

  Katonka snorted and gave him the closest thing to a smile the goblin had seen on the orc woman’s face. “Then eventually, we did find Krik. And we weren’t the only ones. Apparently, some of the warriors who’d marched south for the Battle of Galium had found their way here as well. All warriors without a home. None of us able to go back to our towns. None of us able to see our families. None of us …” Her words faded as she tried to check her growing emotions. “But you …” she said, turning to face the goblin directly.

  Zarnikorek’s stomach flooded with bile.

  Katonka’s tired eyes seemed to glass as she stared at the goblin intently.

  Zarnikorek hesitated, and silence fell on the table so thick it could have been a traditional troll mushroom cake. Her eyes locked onto his, and every muscle in his body tensed. He wanted to jump up and run out of the tavern. But her stare. Those eyes. Piercing … Knowing … “You … you know who I am, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  The goblin nearly vomited. Of course she did. If she was a wyvern rider of Ruk, she would certainly have seen the old king. And wherever King Sahr went, Zarnikorek had always been scuttling along behind him. All those months he’d worried what people in Ghun-Ra would think of him, and here in this isolated place, a place he hadn’t even known existed, someone had recognized him. Part of the reason he’d been so excited about this quest was the utter impossibility that he’d run into anyone who recognized him. And yet …

  “How is it that you got this quest from the new king?” she asked quietly.

  Her question struck the goblin as odd. “King Genjak’s mage adviser sought me out in Ghun-Ra.”

  “You mean, you were in Ghun-Ra? Living among the people there?”

  “Yes,” Zarnikorek said awkwardly.

  Katonka leaned back and ran her hands through her thick black hair. “How?”

  “How, what?” Zarnikorek asked tentatively.

  “You were the king’s aide!” Katonka nearly spat the words as she heaved herself forward. Her chair went clattering to the stone floor behind her.

  A squeak escaped Zarnikorek, but as his heart nearly hammered out of his chest, he found two hands holding him. Tobin stood on his chair, leaning forward to meet the orc’s outburst and shielding the goblin. He held a single hand back to touch the goblin’s chest as though to make sure he was still back there and safe. The other hand belonged to Milirore. This one comforting.

  Gahljik’s hand clamped around Katonka’s arm. Tension hung in the air between them.

  Zarnikorek let a tear escape his eye. After everything, his past was catching up with him. How could he be so foolish to think this quest would help him overcome his past? How could he be so foolish to think he could build a bridge for the future and leave Drelek better in some way when he’d been a part of something so …

  But those hands. Hands of friends who cared deeply for him. Hands of friends who would protect him in the face of an orc warrior six times the halfling’s size. The hand of a friend who would comfort him when he was scared. Bridges were already being built.

  Tears streamed down Katonka’s face, her tusks quivering.

  Zarni slowly stood on his own chair. Rising to meet the orc’s gaze. He slowly patted the hands that held him, indicating he was alright. Even on the chair, he looked up to Katonka. “I am so sorry,” he said quietly.

  Katonka burst into sobs.

  “I’m sorry for everything you’ve endured,” Zarni continued. “The truth is, I have lived in Ghun-Ra for a year. Not truly living. Every day I looked over my shoulder. Every day I prayed no one would recognize me as King Sahr’s aide. Would they shun me? Would they hate me? Would they exile me?” Zarni’s words slowed, as realization continued to unravel the tangled knot of thoughts he’d wrestled with for so long. “But I was fooling myself. Of course, they knew who I was. How could they not? My pa is too social for them to not have known. It wasn’t any of them holding me back. It wasn’t even my past. I was holding myself back.”

  Katonka sat back into her chair, Gahljik having retrieved it and guiding her. “But how can we go back? How can we face …”

  Zarni swallowed the lump in his own throat. He understood how hard this was. A kind smile lifted one corner of his lips. “When I got back to Ghun-Ra, my pa raced down the dirt path from his house to greet me. I remember it. I was so tired. I had been gone for so long. When his arms wrapped around me, I melted. We fell to our knees in the dirt. I wept and wept. My pa held me the whole time, even shedding tears of his own. He let me cry until I had no tears left. He just held me. Because he loved me. Because he had missed me. He didn’t care what side of the war I had ended up on—of my own volition or under compulsion. The only thing he cared about was having his son back.”

  Zarni gulped the emotion that gripped his throat. He glanced from side to side, gathering the courage to continue from the nod Milirore gave him. “Surely, there are folk that miss you and your riders. And the warriors who’d marched to Galium.”

  “Many,” Katonka choked out. “Some haven’t seen their orclings in a year. But how can they ever forgive us for what we’ve done?”

  Zarni smiled at her as he patted Tobin on the shoulder. “When I started this quest, I couldn’t fathom what I was going to learn. Back in Ghun-Ra, I didn’t give people the chance to know me. I was too afraid it would end up in disaster. But as I’ve traveled in the south, among the people that have been enemies of Drelek for as long as history remembers, I’ve come to learn that people can surprise you. Sure, not everyone will, but more than you think. If only we’d open up just a little and give them a chance. We may find more joy than we ever expected.”

  Tobin’s smile grew into a wide grin. “And who doesn’t need a little more joy in their lives?” the halfling asked. And to his credit, he left it at that.

  Zarni chuckled. “I’m driving a wagon through the Drelek Mountains with a halfling from Galium, stopped at a tavern in a town that I never knew existed, in the presence of an elf who has been in contact with the people here for centuries. It’s hard not to believe that the seemingly impossible could very well turn out to be possible.”

  Katonka nodded, unable to regain her words. Zarni could see the thoughts running through her mind as she weighed the options.

  “Perhaps,” Zarni offered. “Perhaps we can all help each other.”

  Katonka’s eyes shot up to his. Gahljik patted the orc woman’s arm comfortingly, before turning his attention to Zarni. “What do you have in mind?”

  Gahljik called a council meeting that night. Zarni found it interesting to note the different folks who came. He learned that the warriors from the Battle of Galium had been led to Krik by a goblin who stood three full heads taller than he. Also among the leaders of Krik were a merchant master, Katonka, and a farmer’s guild representative. Zarni thought it only right that Milirore sat among them in some esteem. She spoke only rarely during the discussions, but when she did, everyone listened intently, and her words held great weight.

  Not everyone was enthusiastic about Zarni’s proposal to make Krik an official stop along the wagon route between Ghun-Ra and Hill Stop. The farmer’s guild representative shifted uneasily, and his apprehension was not idly assuaged. But the benefits of integrating Krik in such a pivotal role for the alliance’s first trade route far outweighed the hesitations.

  The merchant master eloquently expressed his excitement over the growing trade opportunities. He also mentioned the opportunity for expansion for the town’s only tavern, stating clearly a plan that would not only benefit the growth of Krik’s Hollow but also the opportunity for a new tavern to crop up. Plus, the added work for construction and engineering in the canyon.

  Zarni listened to the proceedings with great interest. But it was the goblin leader of the warriors who’d fought at the Battle of Galium who spoke about some of the most fascinating things. Apparently, there were several of his unit who would rather stay in Krik. Even more interesting, Katonka agreed that some of her unit would likely stay as well. Not all of the displaced warriors had homes to go back to. Some of them were quite content to stay in Krik, having built something of a life for themselves there in the canyon city.

  In the end, the vote among the council members was unanimous for Krik to become an official way stop for the new wagon route on the singular condition that the warriors who’d found sanctuary there wouldn’t be chained up and hauled away. After the council meeting, Milirore caught up with Zarni and Tobin, an odd look on her face. Her normally pale cheeks and nose were rosy, and her eyes looked as glass.

  “Are you alright?” Zarni asked the elf.

  “I am,” she said, her nose twitching slightly, as though she was working hard not to cry. “I was just thinking Koris would be so proud to see what this place has become. He would be so proud to know that it will become a bridge of peace after all these centuries. After everything he sacrificed.”

  Zarni sniffed, trying to quell his own burbling emotions. Had he not wrestled with the idea of his own legacy? Maybe he was more like Koris than he’d initially thought.

  “I’m sorry for my outburst yesterday,” Katonka said as Zarni followed her up a winding staircase that carved up the side of the canyon wall. “I didn’t mean to scare you or cast blame … I just …”

  “It’s alright,” Zarni said.

  She glanced down at him. He gave her a smile and a nod of assurance.

  “Well, I’m sorry nonetheless,” she said, trudging along.

  “Have you ever seen the like?” Tobin asked, puffing extra hard on his pipe as they climbed the stairs into a long hallway that led to several openings. Inside each alcove was a nest, a single scaly egg resting in each. The eggs were easily three times the size of the one from which Kliff had hatched.

  “No … I haven’t …” Zarni whispered. He remembered visiting the hatching ground for the wyvern riders of Ruk. It had been a rocky area on the top of a sloping mountain, the nests scattered without any sort of uniformity. These nests had clearly been set up in alcoves specifically chiseled out of the side of the canyon wall by the wyvern riders.

  “Before we arrived, Krik didn’t have any wyvern riders,” Katonka explained. “In fact, they actively avoided wyverns. There’s a wyvern cauldron that inhabits a nearby canyon called Wyvern Alley. Until we arrived, they were known to steal sheep from the farmers on occasion. Since, the farmer’s guild has been rather fond of our wyverns. I think it’s a territorial thing. Now that ours is here, the other cauldron doesn’t come around.”

  Katonka led them down the stone hallway to the very last alcove. She turned in and knelt next to a large wyvern egg with reverence. Zarni watched her curiously as she placed a hand on it, gently caressing the egg.

  “This one was supposed to be my new wyvern,” she said solemnly. A long silence lingered. Zarni could sense her worry from where he stood. She turned to look him up and down. “You really think this will work?”

  “I do,” Zarni said.

  “How can you be so confident?” she asked, shifting her small tusks from side to side uncomfortably. She clearly didn’t like showing this amount of emotion. But something about her vulnerability warmed his heart.

  Zarni huffed a small chuckle. Confidence. That was something he hadn’t experienced a lot. “I have to believe it will work. This is bigger than all of us. This whole thing is about bridging the gaps between our people and the rest of Tarrine. If we can’t extend grace to our own, how will we make good allies with the people we’ve been enemies with for generations? There has to be grace on all sides.”

  Katonka nodded. “But did you raise an axe to your own people?”

  A pang of regret rippled in Zarnikorek’s stomach. “Maybe if I had, I could have prevented some things.”

  “King Sahr?” Katonka guessed correctly.

  “Yeah.”

  “You weren’t the only one who could have done something. There had been several hushed discussions about the mad king amidst the wyvern riders of Ruk. We might have been more capable of doing something, but we were all too afraid of rocking the boat.” She shook her head in disgust at the memory.

  “How easily you extend grace to me, but withhold it from yourself,” Zarni said with a wry smirk.

  Katonka almost gave him a smile.

  “Still, I was afraid,” Zarni continued. “I spent far too much of my life being afraid. I’m choosing to walk each day with a different mindset. A different attitude. Someone I know inspired me to bring joy into every situation.”