The Missing Dragon Ch. 02

"So let's make a deal. If you promise to play no more games at my expense then I'll come visit you later today. I'd like to see you dance and hear you sing," he said as she moaned in that beautifully melodic voice of hers.

Talina was now beyond words. Her hips began to move with the rhythm of his fingers as they teased and tantalised her slick channel. Gregory watched with silent reverence at each tiny little reaction of the sexy seductress. Her eyes were tightly shut, their breath clashed as their mouths neared and she burned hot in the chill morning light. A few stray locks of that chestnut hair fell across her face as a light sheen of perspiration began to form on her brow. His finger finally found the firm little nub of her clit and lightly brushed across its sensitive surface. He felt her fingernails dig into his t-shirt as a sudden thunderclap of bliss rocked her body. Enthused by this, he repeated the light little brush over her highly aroused pleasure centre. As his fingers found the light rubbery flesh of her core, he traced small little circles around her clit and felt her body quiver with the oncoming wave of climax. She opened her mouth to moan and he silenced her by sealing his lips to hers in a kiss that she soon shared with equal passion.

Those oncoming waves crashed through her with tremendous force. She lifted both her hands to hold on to his strong shoulders and her body thrashed against him. His fingers slowed as he played her like an obscene musical instrument. Then, as she was able to feel her muscles preparing to relax, he suddenly moved his fingers sharply and quickly inside her to draw forth a great crescendo from her body. In all her years she had never known anything quite like that boy's fingers. If someone had told her that he, barely a man, had only felt his first woman the day before she might have slapped them for being so idiotic. Yet she had never known a man who had troubled himself to seek her pleasure and hers alone. Nor one with such a great natural talent for the task.

His fingers slowly slipped from her juicy folds and slipped around beneath her cloak to possessively grasp her delightfully firm behind. As she fell from those dizzying heights her strength waned and her long slender legs grew weak. She held herself to him with her arms sliding around his shoulders as their lips parted and she looked up at him with a mixture of exhaustion and delight. She already wanted more. Though even as her hand moved to unwrap the hooded sweater from where it was tied about his waist he caught her wrist and shook his head.

"Not now. I have a meeting remember?" The words were downright heartbreaking.

"Very well. I'll not take you for an ordinary man again, master." That last word still had a hint of teasing about it, though it was spoken with a great deal more affection.

She found the strength in her legs again and wrapped her cloak around herself whilst Gregory lifted his fingers to taste her. She was clean, delicious and lightly scented. He made a note to lick that nectar directly from the source in future. The sight of the man licking her juices from his fingers and savouring the taste like she was a fine wine made Talina consider attempting an act of rape. Then his deep blue eyes met hers again and she quickly reconsidered it.

"Thank you Talina. Now if you'll excuse me..." He nodded his head toward the large tent in the distance to emphasise his need to get moving.

"Of course. I shall count the moments until we meet again." She didn't call him master this time. He didn't mind.

He left Talina to make her way back to the merchant's camp upon slightly wobbly legs. Turning in the opposite direction, he entered the circle of pavilions in which warchief Grolfir and his retinue resided. A few guards were posted here and there holding enormous spears and wearing typical orcish black armour. Gregory walked to the largest pavilion. It was crafted of a sturdy black material lined with fine gold and silver embroidery along the edges. Two guards stood outside as he approached and crossed their massive spears in front of the entrance before looking down at him. Their faces were impossible to make out from the darkness cast by their helmets.

"Hi, I'm here to see the warchief? I'm Gregory. He asked me to come." Thankfully a few thoughts of large scorpions, bad Elvis impersonators and the morning chill meant that he wasn't presenting himself sporting a large erection from his dalliance with Talina.

The spears opened almost immediately to allow him to pass though. The orc guards remained silent and unnervingly imposing whilst he walked between them. He passed through into the tent itself which was big enough for a couple of dozen people to stand comfortably inside. A third of the large space was partitioned off by a large thin curtain behind which Gregory could vaguely make out a large bed and a sleeping orc female lying apparently nude on top of it.

He quickly averted his eyes back to the centre of the room where a very large table stood stalwartly with various papers laid out over it in what Gregory guessed was some kind of organised chaos. An armour stand carried the warchief's personal battle garb which looked fucking terrifying even without the great warrior inside it. Beside it a large black sword that looked like a very long meat cleaver from hell was propped up against a large, closed wooden chest. Other furniture filled the tent including a rich fur rug and several large chairs surrounding it.

Grolfir himself stood behind the desk and looked up as Gregory entered. The orc was huge even by the standards of his people with a body that had been shaped and honed in amidst years of war and brutal training. His head was bald and one of his pointed ears had long since been mangled in some battle or other. What unnerved Gregory about the warchief more than anything were his eyes that burned with intense orange flame and carried across a very keen gaze whilst giving away very little about his intentions.

"Warchief." Gregory didn't really know how to address the massive orc leader and so simply used his title. He also tried a respectful short bow.

"You have come," the great behemoth remarked passively before going silent for a moment. "Good. You will give me Algra."

The words hit Gregory like a sharp punch in the gut. He managed to keep his composure and lifted his gaze to look the mighty orc right in the eye despite how terrifying it might have been.

"If Algra wishes me to gift her to you then I will. If she wishes to stay with me then I will not leave her." Gregory wasn't exactly thrilled with what he knew might be coming next since he wasn't all that fond of being pulverised but he stood firm despite his worries.

"Algra has already asked me not to challenge you for her. She wishes to stay with you." Grolfir let out a low growl at having to admit such a thing.

"Then if you want her you'll have to challenge me."

"You're good...but not that good. I am no fat merchant, boy. Many far greater warriors than you have fallen before me." Grolfir snarled menacingly.

"I know. I don't even think I stand a chance." Yet Gregory didn't waver. "Still, it's Algra and I think she's worth fighting for, even if I die trying. So if you want to challenge me then that's fine. Let's do it. I haven't dropped anyone as big as you before but fuck it, there's a first time for everything."

Grolfir gave Gregory a very long icy stare that burned into the young man like cold fire. Even then, Gregory didn't yield an inch. So it was, after a long moment, the corners of Grolfir's mouth curved upward into a very pleased tusky grin before he threw his head back and let out a loud bellow of laughter.

"You are obviously mad, little human." He finally said in amidst his amusement. "Yet you honour my niece and have a heart forged of steel. I had to know if you were worthy of her and it seems you are. Although, it also seems you're suicidal, but I shall take the good with the bad."

Relief flooded through Gregory. This was just a test. Grolfir moved around his heavy desk to the large storage chest. He lowered his large hand to move his own sword aside and run his fingers across the wooden engravings upon the container.

"Algra's former master and mate was my servant. He was a great warrior and an honourable orc. When he died in battle she should have passed to me but instead she chose exile. Her possessions were her master's and when he died they became mine. I offered her them then but she refused to take what was hers. She wanted no part of our way any more for her grief and shame were too great. These are her things. Her armour, her sword and her possessions. I give them to you in the hope that you will pass them on to her." Grolfir pushed the chest across the floor toward Gregory.

"Thanks! I'll be sure she gets them." Gregory looked over the chest but didn't open it for the contents didn't belong to him.

A long silence followed in which Grolfir looked upon Gregory as if trying to size up the boy. It seemed that the great orc wasn't the only one with unreadable eyes.

"How did you best her? She is a very dangerous warrior. I know you have some skill, human, but you are not her equal," Grolfir asked as he moved to take one of the seats and then extended his arm to offer Gregory a place on the chair opposite.

He told the warchief about his first meeting with Algra and how she had severely underestimated him. The truth was that although she certainly hadn't known his capabilities, she was also very much in heat and quite distracted as a result. Orc women passed through a very sexually frenzied state from time to time and poor Algra had been alone for a very long while out there in the forest. She hadn't been thinking very clearly when she'd challenged him. He didn't let Grolfir know this of course since he didn't want to embarrass his orc lover or her far more intimidating uncle. In any case it had all worked out in the end as he'd certainly seen to her needs.

They talked for over an hour as Gregory saw no need to deny his otherworldly origins. Grolfir was very keen to know about Earth and the things they did there. After half an hour of conversation it was clear to Gregory that the warchief was a great fan of military history. He'd studied the stories of many battles in his own world and was fascinated by Gregory's tales of Alexander, Hannibal and Caesar. Gregory was a keen student of ancient to medieval military history and he had no shortage of tales to impart to the great warchief.

"And what about the orcs? I don't mean to offend but I've never seen anything like your people before. I'd love to learn more about them." Gregory finally managed to venture the question.

Grolfir nodded his head at the trade off and turned his head to look toward the opening of the tent.

"Some ale!" He turned back to Gregory. "What would you know of us?"

"Well, why don't you let humans join your society? They can't challenge an orc for anything can they?"

"Because humans are a bunch of backstabbing bastards," Grolfir grumbled as two orcs wheeled in a cask of ale and settled it beside the warchief.

"Well...alright then." Gregory didn't quite know what to say to that.

"Nay, there are many decent men and women in the Empire but it's not a place where the cream rises."

"More like the shit." Gregory grunted the words out when thinking of some of the leaders of his own world.

"Ha! Aye, the shit rises and the decent stuff sinks to the bottom of the barrel." He reached out and smacked the top of the keg of ale to highlight his point before pouring himself a drink into a metal cup and taking a taste. "Ah, this is orc brewed. We try to be fine through and through." With that, the warchief raised his cup to Gregory. "As you seem to be, pup."

The compliment brought a smile to Gregory's lips and the warchief poured a second cup from the barrel and slid it across the table to him. Gregory reached out and took a taste. He barely managed to get down the great gulp he'd taken before coughing his lungs up. It felt like someone had made an ice cube out of gasoline, crushed it, lit it on fire and poured it down his throat.

Grolfir found his reaction to be mildly hilarious and took a deep drink of the stuff before grinning across the table to the young human.

"That could blow the head off of a horse," Greg observed before taking a rather more tentative sip. "So what is human society like here? You say it's an empire?"

"Aye, the central realm commands the loyalty of the outlying territories. Or so it thinks. There are five human territories, each run by a High Lord. They surround the...wait, there is a picture..." Grolfir turned to a chest settled beside his desk and pulled out a collection of parchments. He glanced at three of them before finding the one he wanted and spreading it out across the wooden surface.

Gregory looked upon the world of Arolius and was immediately fascinated. He couldn't read the writing upon the map for it was in some strange language but he immediately saw what Grolfir was talking about. In the centre of the world there was a large space surrounded upon all its borders by five other large territories. Gregory saw that the eastern part of the map was dominated by a vast ocean. The north was lined with large mountains and coloured in heavy blackened illustrations that didn't look in the slightest bit welcoming. In the west a large desert bordered two of the human territories and in the south there were thick jungles and beyond them were more mountains.

Grolfir pointed to the south-eastern corner of the map, in the jungles where he saw the small illustration of a camp next to a larger drawing of a city in the mountains to the south.

"This is Embervine. Our camp for the hot months before we walk home for the winters." He moved his finger to the picture of the city to the south.

Gregory nodded and looked further up the map to point out the central human province.

"And this is the centre of the Empire." His own fingertip tapped the image of the enormous city in the centre of that province.

Grolfir nodded.

"So these are the five territories." Gregory tapped on each of the provinces surrounding the borders of the empire. "What's this?"

Grolfir lowered his gaze to where Gregory had indicated to the northern most part of the map. The young man was chilled at the sudden look of hatred upon Grolfir's face. "They are the Northern Mountains. Home of the Black Orcs and the demonic lords. They are also said to be the Forsaken Lands. Humans and my people fight along the northern border to keep them at bay. Many armies rest there. Many lay dead on the killing fields."

"Oh. I see. So it's a constant war?"

"It is an unending fire for the flesh of my people and of yours."

Hearing the orc talking about a fight like it was hell was definitely un-nerving. Orcs lived to fight. They based their entire society around it. A fight that an orc wasn't happy about was not a fight that Gregory wanted to get within a hundred leagues of.

"And what about the people here..." Gregory quickly pointed out the south-eastern human territory that had its borders along the Embervine Forest.

Grolfir's response of a low, thundering growl didn't really instil a great deal of confidence.

"Not that good then?"

"The High Lord of that territory thinks us animals and his mind has been split. The humans in his lands suffer and starve. Yet because he sends troops to the north he is ignored by the Emperor. Better a foaming madman than one with cunning and ambition. He has stayed away from us and our warrior caravans are not disrupted on the Emperor's orders."

"Oh." That wasn't exactly encouraging news.

"The High Lords always vie and battle for power, young one. All want to be Emperor or want for independence. It is an Empire of shadows and knives. You would be better off here in the arms of my niece."

"Well from what you've told me I think I'd rather go strangle some of these idiots. But thanks for the offer."

Grolfir grinned downright wolfishly and took another swig of his ale. Then Gregory did the same and braced himself for the impact of the orcish brew. The two men clashed their metal cups together and leaned over the map to speak of the world and its state.

Humans, it turned out, were the most prolific race in the world but in past centuries they had grown less aggressive toward the other races and more prone to infighting. No human was ordinarily given the right to challenge an orc but if a human was challenged and emerged victorious then he or she was considered a member of orc society and could do as they pleased. Gregory found out that he was the only such human currently in existence. It was both a comforting thought to know he had a place here and yet something of a burden for he realised that he not only represented himself but all humanity to these green giants.

Gregory had finally worked up the courage to ask about the black orcs and learned that they had been splintered from the southern orcs long ago. A group of demons had once offered Grolfir's people unimaginable strength in exchange for their service and many had accepted. Those who refused fled south and made their home in the mountains there. The orcs who accepted the demon's gift found it came with a price and warped themselves into a horrifically deformed and wretched species that had become little more than animals. Even then the hatred in Grolfir's voice was so vicious it was unnerving when he spoke of The Lost Ones. Though they had been named 'black orcs' by the humans, Grolfir told them that their true colour was a wretched pallid white. They only appeared black because they spent so much time in amidst their furnaces and within the black ash of the northern volcanoes. The mutual threat of these monstrous creatures had improved relations between humans and the southern orcs and so they fought side by side along the human kingdom's northern border.

After two hours of conversation with Grolfir they were interrupted by a messenger. Gregory turned to see a young male orc wearing hardened leather armour standing to attention like a soldier as he awaited his warchief's permission to speak.

Grolfir turned and barked something at the young orc in the orcish language to which the messenger replied in kind. It wasn't a very long message and once it was finished the young male was dismissed and Grolfir turned to Gregory.

"It appears we have talked longer than I had intended. My presence is needed at the great hall. I am glad Algra found you Gregory Hopkins. Tell her..." Grolfir paused and then shook his head. "Be good to her."

"May I ask something of you warchief?" Gregory stood, the nerves of speaking to the great orc returning somewhat given what he was about to ask.

"You may ask but I may not give." It didn't seem like being asked for favours was anything new to Grolfir.

"One of the humans I came here with is being held in the pits. He attacked one of the orcs that brought him here with great dishonour. I would ask that you release him into my care." Asking the question wasn't exactly easy for Gregory. He was asking to free the psychotic lunatic that had bullied him for most of his life after all.

"And why, by the First, would I do something like that?" Grolfir raised a suspicious brow at the request.

"He means something to the girl I came with. They are no longer close but I don't think she'd be comfortable knowing someone she knew so well was slowly rotting in the pit. I also feel kind of responsible for him. He came here with me. If you refuse then I'll understand but I've got to ask you to free him into my care all the same," Gregory explained.

"I see." Grolfir studied Gregory carefully. "If he is released to you and he causes any further danger then you will be held accountable."