The Missing Dragon Ch. 03

"I see. Was it labelled or marked in any way? Does it easily distinguish itself?"

"It wasn't labelled and it has no visual distinction to water. Here." Valise turned to open a varnished box of her wares and pulled out a small glass vial. "Be careful, there's enough in there to melt this tent around our heads."

Talina plucked the vial from Valise's grip and looked it over. Just as Valise had said, it bared every resemblance to water.

"The only way to tell its true nature is in the smell," Valise advised.

Talina nodded and popped the cap of the vial out. She barely needed to inhale at all for the scent of the liquid was incredibly potent and utterly horrid. It was like breathing in raw brimstone. She quickly closed the vial and handed it back to Valise whilst trying to stop her eyes from watering at the repulsive scent.

"I see." Talina let out a few little coughs.

"I'm sorry, but that is the only true way anyone but me could have known which potion was in the vial."

Talina nodded and wiped her eyes for the final time before standing up.

"Thank you, Valise."

"If there's anything else..."

Talina had been about to decline the offer out of habit before she caught herself and paused before looking down at the woman sat before her.

"Actually there is. Do you know how to make an invisibility potion?"

- - - - -

Three days later, Janette emerged from Gregory's tent on wobbly legs. She could still feel him inside her, lifting a warm glow to her cheeks as his cream slowly began to seep out of her freshly fucked pussy. It had been he who had stirred her to wakefulness and teased her with his lips and tongue until she'd spilled herself over his mouth and moved to ride him through the rest of the sunrise.

Each day, more of his old strength had returned and the pain had receded. It had been like their first days in Arolius once again. Though the looming cloud of what would happen when he fully recovered still hung over their heads with its grim inevitability.

She had left Gregory to find them some breakfast and found Bolut's camp was up and running with its usual bustle. Orcs passed in and out of the courtesan tents, enjoying the shows performed therein. They bought the wares on offer from the human kingdoms or traded products of their own in exchange. Janette made her way to the large cooking pot in the centre of the camp and found Emmet, Talina, Valise, and Algra already settled into conversation.

"It isn't natural," Emmet insisted.

"We do not know what is and isn't natural for his world," Valise replied with her usual serene tone.

"Morning everyone," Janette stepped up behind Algra and wrapped her arms around the orc woman's shoulders before settling a kiss on her cheek. "Where were you this morning? We missed you."

"I needed to speak with warchief." Despite her abrupt words, Algra turned and settled her own kiss on Janette's bare cheek.

"What about?" Janette reached over for the ladle to get herself a bowl of whatever breakfast was on offer from the pot. It smelled of pork and herbs. As she poured out her breakfast, she noticed that everyone had gone notably quiet and all had their eyes fixed upon her. "Uh, guys? What did I do?"

"Nothing," Algra abruptly and firmly asserted.

"Well something weird's going on here. You're all looking at me like I'm about to explode," Janette then quite suddenly remembered what kind of world she was in. "Oh crap. I'm not about to explode, am I?"

"No, dear one," Valise's smile had a reassuringly calming quality to it. "We were just talking about Gregory."

"Oh, well he's fine this morning. Trust me." A little glimmer of laughter passed through Janette's eyes, but instead of pouring out Gregory's bowl she instead took a seat with the others. "What's the problem?"

"It's the way he's healed." Emmet spoke up, taking a page from Algra's bluntness before Valise could think of words to put it delicately. "It's not normal."

"I don't get it, is something wrong with him?" Janette looked to Valise with an understandable note of concern.

"No, nothing like that. It is simply that his recovery has been rapid. Very rapid indeed. Is this usual in your world?" Valise kept her tone as neutral as she could.

Janette blinked in surprise. They were concerned because everything was going too smoothly? She might have laughed,except people didn't recover from broken bones and internal injuries in just over a month. Not in the way Gregory had. She'd thought about it herself a few times but suppressed the question in favour of simply being glad that he was getting well again. It was never a wise decision to kick a gift horse in the teeth or ask its motives. Yet the question had lingered there in the back of her mind, scratching at the edges of her thoughts like an unwanted pest.

"Should we take that prolonged silence as a no then?" Emmet asked.

"I just figured that it was Valise's treatment, or the air around here or..." Janette shrugged.

"It's odd. That's all I'm saying."

"Their entire presence here is odd," Talina spoke up for the first time to put things into perspective. "We don't often get visitors passing in from other worlds."

Everyone nodded their agreement, including Janette.

"We don't really have a habit of popping into other worlds either. Not as far as I know."

"Well then let's put the facts out and see if we can see any sense in it all. Gregory recovers from injury much faster than he should." Emmet started the ball rolling.

"He's also pretty, um, prolific," Janette added.

"What sort of crafts does he make?" Emmet quirked a brow, not quite understanding what Janette was getting at.

"She means he fucks more than he should." Algra nodded whilst Janette's face turned a fetching shade of fresh strawberry.

"Oh, well I don't know if that's really-" Emmet started, only to be interrupted by Valise.

"It is. It's something I've noticed. He's always ready for sex and he seems to seek it out even when he should be exhausted. That is odd behaviour and it should be noted if we're laying out all the medical facts."

"Very well then, if you think so." Emmet paused to clear his throat in an effort to keep his serious voice in place and not have his own ears turn pink. "Anything else?"

"He spoke of the First." Algra grunted.

"I'm sorry?" Emmet's brow furrowed as everyone turned to look at the orc woman.

"The Great Dragon. Gregory and I lay together days ago and he speak of the story of the dragon's rise and fall. I tell him that I read the story as he sleep but I did not."

"Come now Algra, the story of the First is a myth. Even the orc priests believe that it's only a metaphor for how the world came into being."

Algra narrowed her eyes upon Emmet, "I do not lie."

"I'm not saying you're lying. Did Gregory speak directly of the First?"

"He spoke of dragon who carried fire of creation."

"Look, he's seen someone who he knows burned alive. You yourself said it was dragon fire that came from the ring. I'm only saying that it's not necessarily significant that our young friend is dreaming of dragons right now."

Algra growled at Emmet in such a way that a lesser man might have been excused for soiling themselves under her gaze.

"You asked if there was anything odd about him, old man." Talina said.

"Ah, yes. Yes, I did. Very well. Rapid healing, an insatiable sex drive, and dreams of dragons. Anything more?" Emmet looked away from Algra but subtly tilted his neck to the side in a classic orcish submission gesture. He certainly didn't want to start a fight over the matter.

Algra let out a breath and turned her head back to look over the others.

"There is the small matter of the way he came to be here from another world via the use of a magic ring." Talina rolled her eyes at the rest of them.

"Well, technically I was the one who put the ring on." Janette said.

"Grolfir has taken the ring and placed it under his direct care. Algra went this morning to ask if we could examine it further but the warchief refuses to give it back to us until Gregory has proven himself. We can do no more at this point other than guess at the ring's true nature."

"Then what do we do?" Janette asked.

"Nothing." Emmet replied.

Algra turned and growled at the old man again. She wasn't the type to find inaction comfortable.

"We clearly do not have enough information to know anything. This all might just be a series of oddly timed blessings and odd occurrences. Yet I, for one, do not like so many coincidences, so many sudden changes without explanation. So I wanted to speak with you all so that you keep it in mind. Look for other things that the boy does that are out of character or otherwise strange. Janette, you know him best of all. You must put your love for him aside and think critically. His fortune may depend upon it." Emmet pressed those final words to hit home the importance of the task.

Janette nodded slowly in reluctant agreement.

"When we get the ring back, we may know more. Until then, let us all be watchful." Emmet stood and offered them all a small bow before going to assume his duties in helping Bolut run the camp.

Janette let out a little frustrated huff.

"Tomorrow I think I'll skip breakfast."

- - - - -

Talina walked through the orc settlement with quiet purpose. A few days had passed since the conversation at breakfast and she had taken the time to set up a meeting. The meeting had been especially difficult to set up since the participants didn't know it was about to happen. It had taken quite a bit of subtle manipulation to get Grolfir, Ulag, and Elder Stormbane together and alone in the same place. Unfortunately, that place had been Grolfir's private tent, constantly under guard by his own pack mates. Since these guards included some of the fiercest warriors on Arolius, Talina wasn't in any hurry to be caught sneaking about the place.

So, she stepped out of the main avenue of the settlement and opened her clasped hands to reveal the pale blue vial of liquid that had been given to her by Valise. It had taken several days to make and it was highly illegal, especially in the orc realms. They didn't like sneaking one bit and outright hated humans who practiced the art.

Fortunately, it was an art she excelled at.

Lifting the vial to her lips, she took a quick glug and downed the contents in one go. The effect was almost instantaneous. The metallic taste it left on her tongue fizzled and crackled as she felt herself getting a very mild stomach ache. It wasn't to last, for her entire body then faded from sight as the light was smoothly twisted around her slender form. Looking upon her hands, she saw them fade to glass-like structures before vanishing entirely.

Her first thought about being invisible was that it was very odd to be able to see through her own eyelids. At least she wouldn't miss anything important in the meeting to come.

The only drawback in using an invisibility potion was that unfortunately her clothes didn't disappear along with her. Shedding the garments didn't take long, for she didn't wear much. A thought passed through her mind of all the fun she could have had with Gregory in her current state before she set herself to the task at hand. Creeping through the grass on bare feet in the dark was easy enough, as was slipping into the tent. It was good luck that the place was empty, though she knew that time was not on her side.

She could hardly prop herself against the table or sit on one of the chests without someone knocking against her. So, instead she jumped onto the table and reached up for the upper struts of the large tent. There was enough space there amongst the wooden beams for her to settle above the heads of those below. With a smooth, feline grace that would have made Fiona proud, Talina settled herself amongst the struts and waited.

She did not have to wait long.

The slightly opening flaps of the tent were swept aside to reveal the mountainous form of the warchief, soon followed by the shorter Ulag. Talina could tell immediately that the conversation was no cheery affair. Shortly before setting off for Grolfir's tent, she had quite expertly sabotaged Ulag's armoury. It was nothing dangerous, merely a few little doodles across the armour indicating that perhaps Ulag shouted so much because he was overcompensating for his secret lack of testicles. She'd also carved a few clubs to look remarkably like male genitalia and left them in suggestive positions around the armour.

Ulag did not seem to enjoy the jest.

"I'll flay them all for this!" he growled in his grizzled version of the orcish tongue.

"You will not. I'll not have you lashing all the pups because of the actions of a few pranksters." Grolfir managed a tone that was veering between long-suffering resignation and borderline annoyance.

"Then it was Nullik. The boy never knows when to keep his mouth shut."

"Nullik?" Grolfir's voice carried the name with a derisive laugh. "The boy is terrified of you, Ulag. Just like the rest of the pups. I doubt any of them would do something like that. They'd have to be insane."

Above their heads, Talina felt her face form an invisible grin.

"Then what is to be done?" Ulag asked.

"Well, did anyone see the damage apart from you and me?"

"No. I found it and I came straight to you."

"Then forget it, old friend. It was only a few clubs that were carved and a little hard work will get the paint off the armour. Just splash some more paint on so that they can't see what was painted and then have them scrub it off the next time one of them steps out of line. Now sit, have a drink, you haven't told me of the progress of the proving grounds for a while. Are we looking at any promising candidates for this year's ceremony?"

Grolfir took a seat in the chair before his massive table and grabbed two cups from beneath before turning to his cask or orcish ale.

Talina watched as Ulag snarled, clearly unimpressed by the warchief's decision in the matter of the errant wooden shlongs. Then, he relaxed his shoulders somewhat and shook his head before taking up the offered seat across the table. There was a friendship there, unspoken but strong. Talina knew of Ulag's reputation and none could have quelled his fury on the matter but Grolfir.

Two metal cups of orcish brew were settled upon the table and Ulag raised his in the chief's honour before taking an apparently much-needed gulp.

"The Berserkers are by far the strongest. They'll be ready for the north not long after their ceremony."

"You think they will pass?" Grolfir lifted a dark brow inquisitively.

"Hah! Yes, they'll pass. Anything you can throw at them. I personally trained three of them and the rest are just as bad. The Ice Wolves and the Nightraiths are nearing ready too." Ulag took another gulp from his cup.

"And the Runts?" Grolfir pressed.

"Bottom of the shit pile, as ever. Ulla has fight in her but she does not fight with the others. I once saw her crack Nullik across the face when he tried to help her. Wrut is the most dangerous, but then he's older than you. He's usually the last standing, but the others soon overwhelm him after they take care of the weaker ones in the bunch."

"And what of Ulf?"

Somthing in Ulag's face suggested that he might have sneered in other circumstances, yet the expression was subdued in the presence of Grolfir.

"Your son is weak, old friend." Ulag clearly didn't relish saying this to the warchief. "He keeps his head in the clouds too much. He has fight but does not lead as he should."

It seemed that Grolfir would speak again but he was interrupted by a clash of steel against steel outside. One of the orc guards bashing his own chest plate with his gauntlet to signal the arrival of another to the tent.

Elder Wren Stormbane made himself known. Long white braids of hair fell about his head and over his shoulders to frame the craggy lines of the old orc's face. Age had long since caught up with the elder, bending his spine over and forcing him to walk upon the ancient war wounds beneath his cloak with only his walking stick for aid. A cunning, crow-like face was seen peering out from beneath the white braids with a long nose and equally long tusks that raised from beneath his lower lip and curved up to just beneath his small, yet piercing eyes.

The elder shuffled inside the tent and remained silent as he looked between Ulag and Grolfir. He was a stalwart practitioner of old ways and made even the scarred proving master look young by comparison.

"Yes?" Wren asked.

Grolfir and Ulag looked between each other as if wondering if the old orc might finally have seen too many summers.

"I did not summon you." Grolfir peered at the newcomer, wondering if it was perhaps some sort of game. Wren liked games, those he played them with did not.

"Then what is the meaning of this?" Wren reached into his long, red robes and pulled out a scrap of paper.

Ulag stood and walked over to take the paper and read it aloud.

"You are summoned before the warchief to answer for your crimes of..." Ulag spluttered and stalled as he read the words on the page, "Extreme and repeated flatulence before your peers."

Elder Wren did not seem impressed.

"It bears your seal," he added in a dangerous tone of forced calm.

Grolfir frowned and stepped up to examine the paper. Sure enough, he saw his seal staring back up at him from beneath the simple handwriting. He turned and kicked open one of his chests to pull out the stamp on which the seal was engraved and found it still present alongside his other things.

It had taken Talina a couple of days to forge the warchief's personal seal. She decided that the look on Wren's face was definitely worth the trouble.

"Someone must have copied it." Ulag suggested.

"Indeed?" Wren shuffled across the floor with the aid of his walking stick to take Ulag's former seat, "I doubt I need to remind the warchief that it is a crime to forge his seal."

"It seems to be a prank." Grolfir suggested in a gentle effort to ease Wren's obvious anger. The old orc might have been withered but his influence had lost none of its reach over the years.

"Lot of those going around, aren't there?" Ulag tilted his head toward Grolfir pointedly.

Before either of the orcs could reply, another clash of fist against chest plate signalled the arrival of someone else into Grolfir's home. The great orc resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the new interruption. He was somewhat surprised when he found himself looking upon Ulf entering the tent.

Ulf had been expecting to find his father alone and so to come face to face with the elder and the proving master was quite a shock. He immediately stood up straighter as Ulag leered down at him as if suspecting to find white paint across his hands. Presenting himself with a classic salute, Ulf stood to attention and remained silent.

"Speak, boy." Elder Wren did not seem to have the patience for formality.

"Warchief, I am to inform you that the human will soon be ready to resume his place in the provings."

Grolfir raised a dark brow at this news and remained silent on the matter.

"What else?" Ulag demanded.

"Well... er... there's nothing else, master. I was just told to inform the warchief."

"Why would our warchief be interested in knowing that the human boy is nearly ready to resume his place in your pack? Do you keep him constantly updated on the human's bowel movements too?" Ulag had approached Ulf and began jabbing the young orc in the chest.

"Um, no."

"No what!?"

"No, master." Ulf quickly corrected himself as he stepped backwards.

"Good, now quit your interruptions and begone. You have your own proving to think of." Ulag kept prodding Ulf until he'd jabbed him completely out of the tent. Then he turned back to the other two orcs and grinned evilly. "I love my job."