The Missing Dragon Ch. 04

"Enough playing! Time for a real fight!" The old orc yelled to the quick cheers of the others. Gregory noticed that none of the Runts joined in with cheers of their own. Instead they stayed silent and somewhat morbidly resolute.

That didn't exactly bode well for their chances.

He followed along with them as they fell into line and marched towards the fighting pits. Ulag was still to decide which of the packs would face off against each other. It wasn't exactly reassuring to see the old scarred orc out there again, given what had happened the last time he'd set up a mock battle. It made Gregory's chest hurt just to think about it.

The orc prowled before them and stopped short when he laid eyes on the human in their midst again. There was a quiet momentary snarl that crossed his features before he steeled himself against his annoyance. The brat was supposed to have limped off into the night after what the Berserkers had done to him. To see him standing there just over a month later looking alive, well and even ready to fight again should have been damn near impossible.

Ulag couldn't put the Runts up against the Berserkers again. The warchief had been angry about Ulag's little show the last time. He had some goodwill and an enduring friendship with the warchief, but throwing the Runts into the meat grinder again so openly would have made Grolfir angry. He'd seen Grolfir get angry before. It wasn't a memory he was keen on reliving.

"Runts! You fight the Thorns." Ulag yelled before plopping down glumly into his seat at the edge of the fighting pit.

If he couldn't outright beat the human out of his proving grounds, then he might at least be able to make a case that he shouldn't be there at all. The Thorns were decent fighters with a very strong pack mentality. They liked to test the waters of battle first, and bite into any weak spots they found. The Runts had plenty of weak spots for the tasting.

The human made no complaint as Ulf readied his pack, setting them into position and getting ready whilst the Thorns did the same thing. Around them, the other pups fell into a low chant of anticipation for the first clash of the upcoming fight. Their voices repeatedly shook the air like thunder. The beat of their song grew steadily faster as the packs facing off fell still. Ulag roared his approval and on his signal, the young orcs bolted towards each other. It was a different tactic for the Thorns to charge into the fray so openly, for they usually held off and drew out the fight in an attempt to weaken their foes. Ulag conceded that if the Runts got any weaker, then some of them might not have the strength to breathe properly. The two packs met at the centre of the pit. The human fell in behind Ulf whilst the great one-armed orc took the centre and fought into the fray like the veteran he was.

The Runts didn't do so badly at first, using the powerhouse of their two heavy hitters to centre the battle whilst Ulf, Frelki, Ulla, and Nullik prevented any flanking manoeuvres. It was hardly tactical genius, but the one-armed Wrut was a strong warrior, even despite his disability. Alongside him at the centre of the fight was Frun, a stout yet powerful orc whom Ulag had long since noticed was perhaps a few planks short of a barrel. What he lacked in smarts, he more than made up for in aggression. The Thorns on the other hand were a little too smart for their own good and hadn't quite taken Frun into account. Two of their members had already suffered a number of very powerful hits to their armour for overlooking him.

The human followed Ulf's lead and somewhat annoyingly he wasn't doing nearly as bad as he had done in his previous stint at the provings. Ulag watched him pick his moments carefully, often sidestepping around Ulf's opponents and taking the advantage. He never got much of an advantage, but the Thorns clearly weren't expecting him to be quite as aggressive as he was.

Unfortunately for the Runts, the tide began to slowly turn on them as their wily opponents shifted tactics. The Thorns were pushed back, but they had also spread out and sacrificed much of the impact Wrut and Frun were making in doing so. Both Ulf and the human managed to actually bring down one of the Thorns into the dirt, but by then it was too late.

Ulla had taken the fight too far afield and gotten herself surrounded by two opponents who made quick work of her once she was outnumbered and cut off from help. The next to fall were Nullik and Frelki, who had gone on the attack and couldn't make much of an impact without their larger and more aggressive pack mates to back them up. That left Ulf, Frun, Wrut, and the human outnumbered. Ulag at least noted that they fixed their mistake, drawing closer together to watch each other's backs. Of course, by then it was far too late and the Thorns picked them off one at a time with their advantage in numbers. First, they went for Frun, who charged out of the formation to be quickly tripped and clubbed across his armoured back. After that, Wrut became much easier to outflank where his missing limb could offer him no protection on his left side. He landed in a heap beside Frun soon after.

That left Ulf and the human, back to back and looking understandably worried as the Thorns closed in for the final attack. The orc pups called for blood, just as they always did. Then the human did something no one expected. Instead of letting the circle of his opponents close in around him, he bolted straight for the strongest member of the Thorn's pack. He must have said something to Ulf, because the orc did the same in the opposite direction. The Thorns split their circle and were momentarily stunned at the sight of the human engaging in a brawl with a much larger orc and not losing.

It was clear that the opponent that the human had chosen was skilled, but the man's smaller size was proving to be an advantage in dodging the incoming blows. The orc had moved to swat him out of the way like a fly, and had quickly been taught a swift lesson in not underestimating his enemy. Ducking under the blow, the human cracked his club onto the orc's chest-plate so hard that it knocked him backwards. He followed that up with a hard kick into the side of the orc's leg before taking up a new line of attack. So, all there assembled watched one of their brethren start to limp whilst trying to fend off the attacks of a very pissed-off human male.

It was the first time that Ulag could remember the proving grounds going completely silent.

The advantage didn't last, of course. When the orc realised that he wasn't fighting a ferret, he managed to get back onto equal terms with the human. His pack mates helped and soon enough, the human was sent flying back into the dirt to slide across the pit gagging for breath from where the orc's club had smacked him in the gut.

Ulf had already fallen by then, lacking the human's means of surprising his foes. He'd only managed a few seconds of sparring with his opponents before they'd forcefully put him down.

Beaten, the Runts slowly helped each other get back to their feet. Nullik offered Gregory a hand to lift him up and couldn't quite suppress a grin at his performance.

"Not bad. Not bad at all," Nullik spoke under his breath.

The human had managed to get air back into his lungs by the time he was standing upright again. Something inside him called out for another bout, and he was ready to push Nullik aside and go right back at the biggest of the Thorns who he'd almost managed to take down before they had swarmed him. Instead, he gave his pack mate a thankful nod and lifted his club into the air towards Ulag. There was a not-so-subtle implication in that action. He didn't speak out against the proving master, but all who saw the gesture knew its meaning.

Is that all you've got?

Normally Ulag would have liked that sort of spirit, but these were no normal circumstances. He couldn't throw the human out of the provings now after his surprising display of skill and bravery. The Runts had been beaten, but he'd made a better showing of himself than some of his allies had. So, the master of the provings stood up and stormed off away from the pits toward his tent.

Below, Ulf walked over to Gregory and patted his shoulder. "Better than your first day. Be here tomorrow at dawn. We'll see if you can last it out."

* * * * *

Gregory arrived back at Bolut's camp just about ready to strangle something. It only came to his notice that a large chunk of the camp had completely disappeared after he'd walked over to one of the storage tents and found it wasn't there anymore. Those particular tents weren't often occupied, and he wanted a place where he could cool his temper before showing his face to his friends. Sure, surviving the day had certainly been an accomplishment but the match-up of the provings had shown him just how truly dire his current situation was. The Runts weren't going anywhere fast, and he needed to pass the proving grounds to get the ring back from Grolfir. If his pack's performance was anything to go by, he might just get it back by the time hell froze over.

The familiar red crop of Janette's hair flitted between the many heads assembled in the orc encampment. When she broke free of the crowd to run towards him, Gregory's frustrations fell to the wayside at the sight of her approach. Even her troubled expression couldn't stifle her allure. She was all the more captivating having taken to wearing the garments of her new friends, the courtesans. A thin veil of sea green material covered her body, though he could easily see her gorgeous figure beneath the fabric. The shapely curves were adorned with simple and delectably skimpy undergarments that barely covered the girl's modesty.

She flung her arms around him only a few moments later and pressed just as much of that incredible body against him as she could. That soft, strong figure of hers felt almost good enough against his hardened muscular frame to forget about his current troubles altogether. It certainly beat stewing in his own frustrations in a storage tent.

"Are you ok?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just a few bruises this time. Nothing broken."

His assurances did very little to settle her nerves and she immediately pushed at his shoulders to step back and look him over. This wasn't a difficult or remotely objectionable task, as Gregory had quite the appealing body of his own. His training with Algra combined with his time in the camp had bulked up that formerly lean frame quite a bit. He wasn't orc-like quite yet, but his muscles were much more defined. Even as she constantly worried about the scars that now ran along his chest, she couldn't deny that they did make her want to nibble at him quite a bit.

He was still only wearing the boots and trunks that were allowed in the proving grounds. There was quite a lot of nicely toned and sun-kissed bare male on display. By the time her gaze reached his belly button, she'd quite forgotten that she was looking for injuries and was simply enjoying the view.

Gregory spied that look in those bright blue eyes of hers and gently but firmly pulled her back against him. Their lips met a moment after that and only a few seconds later they were settled into a much-needed kiss. The heat of that touch made them both realise how cool the air was, and so they squeezed each other tighter to let their mutual warmth be shared.

It was getting to the point where Gregory was seriously considering taking up the orc practice of wildly rutting out in the open when Janette finally wiggled out from the kiss. Since he didn't want her wiggling away completely, he held her tight and playfully chased a couple of kisses from her lips and along her cheek. His enthusiasm made her laugh and brought a fresh flush of pink to her cheeks before she relented and stayed put. Though she did lift her finger to place on his lips in an effort to get the amorous male to allow her to speak.

"Ok, I believe you. You're not about to keel over."

"I might be about to bend a certain someone over." Greg nipped her fingertip with his teeth to show her he meant business.

"Will you stop!" She slapped his shoulder and looked around for potential voyeurs. Only the backs of the tents could be seen from that part of the camp.

"Nope. Never."

"What happened? Did you win?"

Janette knew what winning meant. It meant getting the ring back, and maybe getting the chance to go home again.

"No. We lost."

"Hey, I don't care as long as you come back in one piece. Alright?" She lifted her hand to stroke her fingers across his cheek.

Gregory let out a slow breath as the nature of the defeat seemed to flood back into the fore of his thoughts.

"We were a mess, Jan. It was barely even a contest. The only thing we had going for us was surprise and that's not going to last." He lowered his head and closed his eyes, touching his brow lightly against hers.

"Hey. Look at me," she ordered.

He did as he was told and found himself looking right into those twin seas of sparkling sapphire.

"Don't let yourself get like this." She raised herself to her tiptoes and settled a tender kiss on his lips to comfort the obviously troubled male. "This was a win. Plain and simple. Bolut didn't think you could beat him, but you did. Algra didn't think you'd beat her, but you did. No one outside this camp thought you'd come out of there alive today, but here you are. Every time someone's put you down, you've stood up to them and here you are still standing. So you're in a faster race now. Don't give up at the first hurdle."

"I kind of thought getting beaten to a bloody pulp was the first hurdle, Jan. I remember literally sinking the landing with my face."

"Hey! I'll tell you what's a setback and what isn't." She flicked the tip of his nose with her finger to make sure he was paying attention rather than letting his gloomy thoughts get the best of him. "Now, Bolut's packing up his camp to head north before winter gets here. Or at least that's the word around here. So, you're going to kiss me, then you're going to see him and wish him well since he's done so much for us. Then Algra's waiting for you in the forest."

"Is she naked?" Gregory's eyebrows perked up.

Janette smacked his bare chest with the palm of her hand.

"Hey, I'm just looking for a happy ending here," he teased.

"Right, that's it. I'm leaving you. I'm packing my bags and going off to live with the leprechauns." Her words might have had a bit more bite had she not been in the process of entwining her arms over his shoulders and lifting herself to kiss his cheek as she spoke.

"There are leprechauns now?" He looked alarmed.

Janette kept the presence of leprechauns to herself, though her laughter at his question eased his worries on the matter. Getting back a magic ring, winning fights against angry orcs, and trying not to die were proving to be quite formidable tasks. He didn't want to add finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow to his to-do list.

The girl wiggled herself out of his grip, and her laughter melted from amused to delighted when he put up another little fight on the matter. It involved a moderate amount of tickling and the occasional stolen squeeze of her smooth, firm bum. Eventually she managed to slip away from him and cast him a reproving look that was undermined somewhat by the way her lips quivered with a suppressed smile.

"I'm going to go back to the tent. Valise has been trying to teach me how to speak orc between my dancing lessons with Talina. It's made me really want one of those doohickeys." She pointed to the amulet around Gregory's neck that served to translate the language for him, and allow him to be understood by the green behemoths. "But, at least it keeps me occupied."

"I thought you hated that sort of thing. I remember you could barely stay awake in French class."

"Yeah, well, it beats worrying about you all the time, you big dope. Besides, when am I ever gonna go to France?" She cast him one last little smile before turning around to take her leave.

Gregory waited a beat before calling out to her again. "Hey, Jan?"

"Hm?" She cast a look at him over her shoulder.

"Thanks for the help."

That brought the smile back, all the brighter on her red lips. "Any time!"

With that, she disappeared back into the bustling area of the camp.

* * * * *

Bolut stood at the centre of the camp overseeing a truly enormous caravan of goods. A mere glance at the formidable trading vehicle showed that it took more design cues from a tank than a horse-pulled cart. Four enormous ox-like creatures had been reined in to pull the thing, and were currently chomping away at a box of jungle leaves in preparation for the journey ahead. Their curved horns were larger than anything similar Gregory had ever seen on Earth, and their front forelegs packed a tremendous amount of muscle compared to their smaller hind legs. Behind them, the vehicle itself rose up high enough to comfortably fit several fully grown orcs, though it was instead currently being stocked with various goods from the camp. The frame was clearly made of metal with a toughened wood exterior covered in hardened leather. Signs of wear and tear were evident in scratches on the leather, and a few arrowheads still embedded here and there with their broken shafts sticking out at odd angles.

Gregory guessed that travelling to human territories with plentiful supplies of trade goods wasn't exactly the safest of journeys for an entrepreneurial orc.

Beside Bolut, Emmet was helping to oversee the loading operation from beside the juggernaut. They barked orders out every now and then before turning back to look over a number of parchments that Gregory assumed were the log books of the camp's current stocks.

"Um, excuse me," Gregory took a cautious step forward, deftly avoiding a slave rushing past with several rolls of multicoloured cloth piled up in her arms.

"Not now!" Bolut yelled without looking up from his papers.

Recognising Gregory's voice, Emmet turned and cleared his throat before jabbing Bolut in the arm. It was almost funny to see the frail wisp of an old man getting the huge orc's attention.

"What!?" The orc growled out the word with no small degree of annoyance. After seeing Emmet pointing over to where Gregory was stood Bolut's expression shifted from anger to slightly flummoxed surprise.

"I'm sorry," Gregory held up his hands peaceably. "Didn't mean to bother you."

It took Bolut a full minute to get out of "boss mode" and realise that his master was stood in front of him. He cleared his throat and spread his arms open in a far more welcoming gesture.

"Gregory! It is good that you are here. Forgive the shouting? Busy day," the big orc noted in a much more friendly tone, gesturing around them at the bustling humans and orcs loading up the massive caravan.

"Oh, it's no problem. I just wanted to see you before you left. Haven't had much of a chance to talk these past few weeks, have we?" He paused and looked over the caravan. "This is a bit . . . huge. When you said you were going on a trading trip I figured you'd just be hauling carts with horses or something."

"It was once just so." Bolut nodded grimly and folded his arms. "These days there are many in the human bandits who attack us. Road is not safe. The caravan needs protection. Easier to protect this than a smaller convoy."

"Yes, and mister Rudd tells us that things are not getting better in the north," Emmet said. "The high lord of Uldrin is sowing more discontent towards the orcs amongst his people. Many believe them to be child-eating, bloodthirsty murderers."

"Wait, what? I thought that the southern orcs and the humans were allies? Everyone fighting together in that long war in the northern mountains?" Gregory took another step forwards toward the pair as introductions gave way to conversation.