The Missing Dragon Ch. 03

Then, finally, there was the last of them. A much older orc who looked to have long since passed into middle age with flecks of grey in his black beard and a mass of similarly coloured, unkempt hair atop his head. That final figure might have reassured Gregory, for the older orc stood taller than any of the Berserkers they were about to face, and was built like a damn mountain.

Except he was also the one that Gregory had seen earlier. The one-armed orc.

The arm seemed to have been dislodged long ago in its entirety. The one that remained was thick with muscle and within his grip there rested one of the two-handed clubs big enough to knock over a tree.

If they needed any city gates raised to splinters, then old One-Arm was clearly the orc to call upon. Though Gregory still didn't like their chances against the A-listers of mayhem that they'd been set against.

Shaking his head yet again in an attempt to bring the world into high definition once again, Gregory rested both hands upon the grip of his club to steady the weapon and settled into a battle stance in line behind Ulf. The other orcs took up their positions, spread out in a line and preparing to charge the enemy. Their massive opponents, the pedigree of the orc youth, did the same. Eyes filled with madness as they worked themselves up into a battle-rage.

His new pack did exactly the same, though seeing the skinny orc trying to build up his fury might have been funny if it wasn't for the fact that he was about to be imminently bludgeoned to death.

"Attack!" Ulag's voice boomed from the seats above and Gregory watched as all hell broke loose.

The Runts attacked the Berserkers with the same fervour for battle that made all orc blood run hot. Unfortunately, though it was clear to see that though they had the will and the determination, sometimes trying just plain isn't enough. The first to fall was the skinny orc as he charged one of the Berserkers head-on and was practically steam-rolled into the dirt. Gregory winced and fell into line behind Ulf. He could still fight and it was painfully obvious that the Runts needed every pair of hands they could get. The girl with the body of a gymnast fell next as she tried an overly complex leap that allowed her opponent to grab her leg in the air and smash her abruptly back into the ground.

Two members of the pack had fallen. Ulf engaged with the leader of the Berserkers and Gregory followed suit as best he could. His comrade was a talented fighter, but he did nothing to rally his men in battle, whereas the Berserkers fought like a seamless unit of focused carnage. It wasn't long before one of them sliced between Gregory and Ulf's attack on their leader like a surgical knife and began bearing down upon the human.

Attempting to parry the blows that rained down upon him would have been a one way ticked to two broken arms. The orc who had chosen to duel him wielded a two handed club as if it were made of feathers, though the thunderous blows and thick, whumping noises it made as it flew through the air carried across the club's true weight well enough.

Fall back, dodge, turn, spin out, dodge. Gregory knew the moves to defend himself but he had no clue what in the hell to do to use the club in his own hands effectively. All his martial arts lessons were for nothing in taking down the battle-crazed monster before him. His peripheral vision caught Ulf as the young orc fell to the ground upon receiving a crushing blow to his ribs from the Berserker leader. The only other member of the Runts still standing was the one-armed orc and the three Berserkers now upon him would soon bring him down.

Fear and rage. It was all Gregory had to move his body as pain rang throughout his head and he suddenly lunged forth to smash his club against the extended elbow of his opponent before he could ready one of those big swings against him. Much to both their surprise, the blow connected and the orc roared in pain as he was swiftly unbalanced and the club swung out wildly in his hands. Unable to direct the blow, Gregory easily stepped out of its path and flung all of his weight behind it straight at the orc's knee.

It might have even connected if it wasn't for the leader of the Berserkers smashing against Gregory's side in a full charge that sent the young male sprawling into the dirt.

Colours that shouldn't have been present spilled over Gregory's vision in waves as he tasted the bitter earth and then felt the Berserkers descend upon him. The thunderous impacts were given as if he too were an orc and the boy felt his bones snapping and shattering beneath them. Pain gave way to agony and then the whole world fell numb, silent, and finally he fell into darkness.

- - - - -

Algra Strongblood watched her human lover be beaten senseless by the Berserkers until Ulag raised his arm and roared their victory. Throughout the entire course of the battle, she stood by her uncle, the mighty Grolfir, and steeled her resolve. Her expression never wavered or shifted when she saw Gregory's bloodied body and swollen face as the Berserkers finally pulled back. The leader of the pack spat on the unconscious human's fallen body as his companions moved to leave the arena. Ulag didn't give the proper reprieve for the dishonourable act. It was only a human, after all.

The Runts slowly picked themselves up once the Berserkers had retired from the arena. Seeing what had happened to Gregory, Ulf walked over with his comrades and picked up the boy's shoulders whilst the stout orc grabbed his legs. Defeated and bloody, they carried their fallen comrade from the field and started the journey towards his home. Many of those watching laughed openly at the behaviour. They spoke of cleaning away the filth as they took Gregory away.

Algra watched it all. Her fear for her lover, though justified, had long since receded as a dark, murderous rage filled her heart.

"It was his will," Grolfir said to her then.

She remained silent. Her world was painted in shades of blood and pain. Turning away from her uncle, she found herself momentarily unable to stomach the sight of her own people. Walking away, she followed the Runts from the proving grounds. It was time to return to Gregory, and to prepare for war.

- - - - -

The beaten body of Gregory was carried back into the camp in a way that almost resembled a funeral procession. Janette emerged from their tent and screamed upon seeing him, thinking him dead at first before she saw Valise hurry out of her own dwelling to rush to Gregory's side.

"Get away from him!" Fresh tears poured down Janette's rosy cheeks. "This is all your fault!"

Valise stopped in her tracks as if she'd been slapped across the face with the venomous words. Unsure of herself, the gentle woman looked around to see if she was doing the right thing.

"Woman, by the First, help him!" Algra entered the camp like an oncoming storm shortly after the others.

"Algra, why?" Janette's voice took on an almost pleading tone as she hopelessly asked how the orc could have let their lover be so badly injured.

Both women felt their eyes meet and after a cool stare from the orc, Janette lowered hers first and rushed out to Gregory. Her cloak whipping around her almost naked body beneath. She saw his chest still rising and falling. His handsome face was broken and his bones didn't seem to form right along his left arm and over his chest. Blood trickled from swollen lips and he seemed to be fighting hard to hold onto life.

"Talina!" Valise's voice cried out as she also rushed to Gregory's side. The raven haired woman in question appeared almost out of nowhere moments later. "I need valin root, umber sap and my healing potions. They're in-"

Talina seemed to already know exactly where they were and with a flick of her own cloak, she was gliding back toward Valise's tent.

"Is he going to be ok?" Janette reached out and took Gregory's hand in hers. She felt his fingers give a little instinctive squeeze that made hear heart almost leap into her throat.

"I think so, but until I can begin treatment, nothing is certain." Valise was all business as she moved the small candle holder from the large table within Gregory's tent and had the Runts settle his body upon its surface.

Despite her anger with Valise, Janette steeled herself and took a deep breath before wiping her eyes and looking up to the healer. Pushing aside her own pain and fear, she asked the only question that she could.

"What can I do to help?"

Valise looked up and saw that Janette had found some iron in her soul.

"I need Emmet in here, now. And an extra pair of steady hands if you feel up to it."

Janette gave a tense little nod and then turned to rush off to find the wispy-haired elder out in the camp.

Valise began her work then, examining the wounds and the breaks she could see before Talina returned with her supplies and she started putting the boy back together again. Janette returned with Emmet, who immediately was set to work in setting the bones along Gregory's arm.

The three of them worked for hours. After the sun settled below the horizon, Algra brought them fresh torches to work by and noted the worried look upon Valise's face. She did not like that look at all. Gregory still refused to breathe properly, despite the dose of medicine she'd given him. Alchemy was a powerful craft when used correctly yet it couldn't dislodge shards of bone from lungs without doing far more damage than it would heal.

So it was that in the dark of night Valise and Emmet cleansed their hands and Gregory had his chest cut open. Janette was forced to leave as the sight of him being cut into finally broke her will and she dissolved into tears once more. Algra took her away and sent Talina to take her place.

"You do know what you're doing here, don't you?" Emmet asked Valise as the razor edged knife sliced through the boy's skin over the right side of his chest.

"I have done it before." Valise replied, though she did not elaborate on the matter.

"Did it work?" Talina voiced the question immediately.

"Yes, but then I had other advantages. This will be more difficult. Apply pressure there and keep it until I tell you to release."

Talina did as she was told. Her hands never wavered in the slightest as Gregory's warm, red blood began to seep out over her fingertips. Valise worked with her little blade for a full hour and made even the world-weary Emmet somewhat shocked by her skill and knowledge of human insides. Then, in the end, she began to fold the flesh back into place and applied further alchemical concoctions before sewing up the wound she had made.

Once she was finished, she let out a long breath and fell back to sit on one of the chairs beside the table, exhausted.

"Release him." On the blonde lady's orders, Talina and Emmet lifted their hands from Gregory's body.

"He seems to be breathing stronger," the old man observed.

"That is no longer the problem. I needed to use several different healing potions on him and there is a cost for that. Two aren't traditionally used together because they have certain side-effects. The others are made with herbs that are fine in small doses but can be dangerous when used to such a degree." Valise rested her forearms across her thighs with her bloodied hands hanging between her legs. "I did not know how else to..." she trailed off whilst looking over to Gregory with troubled eyes.

"You did everything you could. Now our young friend here must do his part." He then turned his head and looked toward the entrance to the canopy. "Algra!"

It was mere moments before the orc woman stepped through, having to dip her head to slip beneath the entrance. Janette followed quickly behind, eyes still glistening and immediately fixing upon Gregory.

"We have done all we can for now. His breathing is strong once more. This is a good sign. Valise is the most talented healer I have ever known." Emmet turned to look at the woman herself, as did everyone else.

Valise wasn't just talented. She was damn-near inhuman in her knowledge and skill. Open exploratory surgery and treatment in the space of an hour? The greatest doctors in the empire couldn't have hoped to accomplish such a feat.

Janette stepped out from behind Algra to take a wooden bowl from a chest of drawers at the side of the tent and dip it into a large barrel of fresh water. She took the bowl to Valise and knelt down before the tired alchemist to allow her to wash her hands of her patient's blood.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. This wasn't your fault." Her voice was a little hoarse from crying, but it was honest.

"No, it Ulag's." Algra growled with the rage of a true orc. "Proving master. He put Gregory with worst pack he knew, then he set them against best to prove a point. He will regret using my..." She almost said "mate" but caught herself at the last moment. "Using Gregory to release his own spite."

"Now Algra, we can't have you challenging the proving master. You still haven't pledged yourself for Grolfir again. You'd be waging war on the entire camp."

Algra looked to Emmet, and for a brief moment the old man felt a great swell of pity for anything that she should decide to make war upon. Then common sense flooded back and he shook his head.

"No! He wouldn't want you to do something so reckless." Emmet pointed to the fallen human on the bloodied table.

"After this? He does not talk to me of recklessness!" Algra almost roared the words at Emmet who, to his credit just managed not to soil himself.

"Algra?" Janette raised herself to her feet, leaving Valise with the water bowl. The small voice of the red haired girl took quite a lot of the thunder from the orc's expression. "Algra, don't do this. It won't help him. I know you're angry that this happened. We all are."

"Which brings me to the point of whose fault this really is!" Emmet re-took charge of the situation and looked over all who were assembled. "Whoever let the mad-man loose."

Everyone fell quiet for a moment as if just remembering that only a day before Freddie had burst into flames before the entire camp. The catalyst of the series of events that had led Gregory to rest upon that table like a slab of bloodied meat.

"I promise you it was not I." Valise stood and offered the bowl of water over to Talina. "Gregory had asked me to demonstrate my wares for him. I was with him when it happened."

"She was," Algra agreed.

"Then it was someone else in the camp?" Janette walked back over to Algra and slipped her hand into the orc's, offering a little squeeze of comfort that seemed to calm the great warrior.

"It could have been anyone. We're merchants. Orcs walk through our tents every day to see the girls dance or buy our stocks. Any one of them could have done it." Emmet took the bowl of water from Talina and washed his own hands as he spoke. "I think someone has it in for our young friend here and until we find out who it is then I would suggest that we concentrate on helping him recover."

"Can we move him?" Janette looked over to the bed which would undoubtedly be more comfortable than the bloodied table.

"Not yet." Valise was still looking intently at her patient. "Tomorrow morning before breakfast, perhaps. If he stays the same."

"Or gets better?" Janette asked hopefully.

Valise raised her gaze from Gregory to the girl at Algra's side. "He will not begin to recover for a few days. I have sedated him to make sure he feels no pain. We will need to watch him at all times."

"Very well. Come now then. Who will take the first watch?" No sooner had Emmet asked than Algra stepped forth and placed her hand on the table. "Very good," he continued. "Then the rest of us should get some rest."

Valise stayed for a few moments to speak with Algra about the signs of trouble and what to look for in his breathing before taking her leave. Emmet stepped out with Talina shortly afterwards and placed his hand upon the woman's shoulder when they were out of earshot.

"Do you have any news?"

"I am not a miracle worker, old man. I've only had hours and much of that was spent with the red-haired one." Talina was tired and angry. She shot an icy look towards Emmet that warned of her edgy mood. "I shall ask the questions that need to be asked tomorrow. The day is for talking and the night is for spying."

"I see. Well, please report your findings to me, and to Gregory when he awakens."

"What do you intend to do? Lecture the suspect?"

"No, I intend to make sure you have enough evidence."

"And then?"

"Then I'm going to give their name to Algra."

Talina held his stare for a moment, then the old man and the dancer smiled at each other like wolves in the night, hungry for the blood of the one that had harmed their pack-mate.

- - - - -

Under the care of his friends, Gregory was allowed to recover in peace. Murmurs of the camp and his former possessions being permanently acquired by Grolfir after the boy's shambolic performance were quashed soon enough. The warchief himself appeared before them all on the second day after the accident to affirm that Gregory would be allowed to recover before any further action was taken. An elder orc, who seemed to almost constantly inhabit Grolfir's wake, did not seem pleased at all by this news. The warchief's mind seemed to be made up on the matter. If anything, the gesture was likely a very slight attempt to get his neice to talk to him once again rather than just glower with barely suppressed fury in his presence.

Either Algra or Janette were always at Gregory's side as he slept. Often both together. Algra was occasionally called away to show her presence in the great hall beside her uncle. She did not often speak on these occasions, but she did play along with them as it was part of her duty and station. At first, some of the younger males took her presence in the hall as a sign that she had moved on from her human lover. It only took three bruised ribs, a broken nose and a rather serious concussion before they took the hint and stopped pursuing her.

Janette had been pried away from Gregory and into Talina's tent on the fourth day after spending a great deal of time at the young man's side looking incredibly worried. Her eyes had a habit of welling up whenever Valise stopped looking cheerful around him. So, upon Emmet's insistence, she had been coaxed away to allow the courtesan to keep her mind occupied. Janette's interest in Talina's profession intensified as she learned the finer points of the art. Orcs, of course, were very boob-oriented. In truth, as long as the goods were on display, they usually left happy. Talina seemed versed in the greater subtleties of companionship however and was a veritable wealth of information on how to drive a man or so-inclined woman to the edges of madness using only herself as an instrument of desire.

Dancing, singing, storytelling, conversation, fashion, intrigue, sex. Janette was only too happy to start her journey in learning everything Talina had to teach along with the aid of Lydia and Fiona.

On the third day, they were treated to a positive and yet uncanny application of alchemy from Valise. Gregory was recovering well enough but they were all becoming worried that he wasn't able to eat or drink. After considering their options, Valise decided to use a form of her art that was considered highly illegal in the human realms due to its potential for abuse. Gregory was painted from head to foot in various patterns that seemed to oddly reflect his nervous system. Then, once those markings were in place, Valise painted a simple eye on her brow in the same substance. After settling down with her legs folded and closing her eyes, it only took her a few moments of concentration before Gregory lurched up in bed, still fast asleep, and awkwardly took a bowl of soup from his bedside before beginning to drink it down. A few glasses of water were added a moment later. Once he was done, he flopped back down on the bed and resumed the sleep of the dead.