The Missing Dragon Ch. 05

"Talina. I'm not going to ask where you got your fighting skills if you don't want to tell me, but I get the feeling that if you really wanted to kill someone there wouldn't be much that could stop you?" He recalled seeing her cutting a swathe through the enemy in the battlefield.

"No, master. There wouldn't be much that could."

"Good. In that case, if I get called before the council then I'm planning on getting the orcs to put Wren's head on a spike. All of this was his fault. If I'm not successful in getting the better of him the honourable way? Kill him. Just kill the fucker for me. Painfully."

"Yes, master." She nodded her head politely, as if merely offering to keep his house tidy for him in case he had to leave suddenly.

"Gregory, Wren has a strong voice amongst the elders," Algra said. "Arguing for your innocence is one thing, but trying to accuse him of responsibility for the attack? You would need evidence beyond any doubt."

"And I think I'll be able to get it. Can you guys get me any water from the supply on the night of the attack?"

"I can." Talina nodded in the affirmative. "Torren drew water that day and stored it for quenching a new blade. There is still plenty in the barrel he brought back with him from the well."

"Good. Valise? You're going to have to work with me but I think between that and the results of what we got from the scrying pool we should have a chance at pinning all this on that traitorous bastard."

"Yes, master." Valise nodded; though she looked troubled by the mention of the foul substance she offered no argument.

"Are the orcs going to bring me before the council soon? I mean, are guards going to come marching to take me away the moment they hear I'm awake?"

"No." Algra shook her head. "The warchief has placed the camp under guard, but he has given the order to await your full recovery before you are brought to the great hall. Wren didn't like that at all. Ulag stood up to back the war chief's plan, and that sealed it. Everyone knows how much the proving master hates humans, but he saw it as dishonourable to expect an exhausted suspect to put up a proper defence. Wren's usual response of accusing his rivals to be too friendly with humans didn't work on Ulag. So you have some time."

"Remind me to give the old hard-ass a kiss the next time I see him."

"I think if you tried he would break your face. Do not try. I like your face."

"Good advice. Ok then guys, go get prepped. I think I'm going to have to pass out just a little bit now."

Algra moved swiftly to catch him and lay him gently on his side as her mate once again lost consciousness. As usual, she looked to Valise with worry in her eyes.

"Just exhaustion. His spirit is recovering well, and there are no lasting effects on his mind that I can sense." The pale elf moved to take up the bucket and the cup from Gregory's bed to place beside it.

Algra nodded, relieved at Valise's calm demeanour. She turned and looked across the way at the ring still gleaming on the pillow.

"I am grateful for whatever force that gave my mate the power to fight his enemies, but part of me thinks that we would all be better off if that thing were destroyed."

"I'm not entirely sure you're wrong, Algra. But I fear that you would have a very difficult time destroying something like that without the assistance of a god."

- - - - -

"The human cannot be allowed to keep an object of such power!" Wren shouted from his spot at the high table in the great hall.

A good portion of those in attendance voiced roars of agreement at the words. It was disappointing to hear so many orcs had been swayed by the argument, but Gregory didn't expect to be welcomed to cheers of adoration. The truth was that the ring scared the hell out of him, so he couldn't blame the orcs for being worried about its potential for destruction.

He hadn't waited weeks to recover. With Wren constantly building his support and sowing fear amongst his people, he would soon be in a position to openly challenge Grolfir in the matter. Of course he was well within his rights to issue the challenge openly, but it was frowned upon in matters of such importance for there not to be some consultation and argument beforehand. Orcs believed that strength ultimately won out, but they also liked to be informed on such issues before the challenge was put forth.

On top of this was the fact that there was nothing stopping another orc from issuing his or her own challenge shortly after. All that would be required would be that Wren was able to fight without having any hindering injury. This often meant that any potential challenge for leadership usually had to have a majority of support from the most able warriors in order to form a stable leadership. For a society built around the idea of a form of forced subservience, the whole process was oddly democratic.

So Gregory had some time to prepare his own case to put before the elder council, but he wasn't going to give Wren all the time he needed to amass his support. His attack would be made in three thrusts, and he hoped each would carry enough weight behind them to topple Wren from his entrenched position amongst his kin. If they weren't decisive enough, he would likely have to sacrifice a great deal of his own property and prestige to make up the insult to the elder.

It was like being back at the proving grounds again, except this time he couldn't just smack Wren over the head with his bat.

When those who had voiced their agreement to Wren's sentiment finally settled down, Gregory stepped into the Great Hall. Just behind him, his pack made their presence known with their own loud "huah!" that signalled their march along the avenue toward the high table. All eyes settled upon them, and a number of other cloaked figures followed them inside. They settled out of the way up against the walls as inconspicuously as possible.

"I have come to speak for myself in this matter," he called out loud enough for everyone to hear, though his gaze soon came to focus on Wren.

The elder had clearly not expected the human to show up so quickly, and he was unprepared to face the one he was accusing of betrayal. Though, to his credit, Gregory saw no sign of fear in the elder orc. Instead, there was only a quiet and deep-seated loathing in his eyes as he focused on the human.

"Gregory Fireheart," Grolfir turned and nodded toward the approaching alpha. "You will be heard."

"Warchief." He bowed his head respectfully, but kept the gesture brief. He didn't want it to seem as if he was unduly sucking up to the management. "I will speak on the matter of the infiltration of this encampment, and the role of my trade caravan."

"The caravan in which the infiltrators hid themselves to mercilessly kill our guards and open the gates to our hated enemies!" Wren spoke out to put his spin on it before anyone else.

"I believe the caravan to have been ambushed on its route. The last I heard of it, the orc known as Bolut was taking it north into the human lands to trade with-"

"How could an organized party of black orc scum get so far south?" Wren interrupted. "And how would they possibly know to target your caravan? Unless you are a spy! Think on it brothers and sisters! We have no knowledge of where this human actually comes from. Why do we insist on trusting a creature of a race so infamous for their treachery, when it has so little to offer in its defence?"

Another murmur of agreement rang out through the hall at Wren's words. Gregory found himself gritting his teeth and balling his hands into fists in an effort not to pick up the nearest sharp object and lunge for the old shit.

"I believe that Wren is right." He quickly interjected before Grolfir could call for order. He didn't want the warchief to look too much in his favour. The words had the desired effect in creating an unexpected silence amongst the surrounding orcs. "I do believe that this camp has been infiltrated by agents of the enemy; though I am certainly not counted amongst their number. I have found evidence to suggest who the true traitor might be."

"Then show it," Ulag had taken his own place on the high table, and grunted his order in a coldly indifferent tone that suggested he thought he had better places to be.

The simple order took the air out of Wren's sails, as the elder had clearly been building up to another long condemnation.

"First, it is my wish to consult the shaman known as Borika. I would also accept the eyes and ears of any shaman who was present on the night of the ambush."

"I sit on the council, I shall-" Wren began, but it was his turn to be interrupted.

"In order to show what I have discovered, I will need those with experience of the fight in question. Elder Wren, your knowledge is renowned, but alas, I fear you slept through the fight in your tent and would be an unsuitable candidate for what I require. I thought Elder Kozash or perhaps Elder Urgin might agree to bear witness. I remember their prowess in the fight clearly."

Gregory strongly suspected that Wren had not been stricken with the same enchanted sleep that much of the camp suffered with that night. The time was just not right to openly accuse him yet. That didn't mean he couldn't point out that Wren had slept through a fight whilst others had gone into battle on his behalf.

Urgin would have been his ideal candidate to bear witness. He was the oldest orc in the camp, and had become so entwined with the magic of the jungle that parts of his skin had turned into bark, and his fingers were tipped with claws. Borika had suggested the names, and Urgin had been her mentor. The old orc also happened to have developed the concept of minding his own business into something of an art form, so he was utterly impartial. Kozash, on the other hand, was within Wren's sphere of influence, but also noted for his fairness, and often remained silent whilst the elder slipped off into one of his anti-human rants.

"I'll do it," Urgin grumpily shuffled from his place. He didn't sit at the high table, but his presence had been requested at the great hall as a witness to the battle.

"May I also bear witness?" Kozash also stood, with curiosity having gotten the better of him.

"You may," Wren agreed before Gregory could.

Alright, Gregory thought to himself. The more the merrier.

Urgin had already covered over half the distance to Gregory by the time Kozash had stood up, and though he glowered at the other shaman, he decided not to waste the journey, creaking his old bones toward where Gregory stood. Borika soon stepped up from behind him to offer her own support. As he glanced back towards her, he caught sight of his pack. The Dragons had not gone to their seats, and each stood behind him ready to offer their own support to their alpha at a moment's notice. It was a sign of great respect as well as trust, and he felt a good deal better about himself as he turned to face the high table once again.

"Bring the water," he ordered.

Ulf and Ulla immediately nodded and ran to the rear of the hall to carry a hefty barrel of water together to place before the shaman.

"What is this?" Urgin grunted.

"Elder, this is water taken from the well the day before the attack happened."

"Do you want us to bathe?"

"Er... no. I wanted to answer the question of why the hell most of the camp was too tired to get out of bed whilst we were all under attack."

"There was evidence that the black orcs cast some sort of enchantment from the caravan. We found broken crystals inside that had once held some sort of magic," said Kozash.

"Crap," Urgin coughed out the word dismissively. "I told the lot of you, you'd need a lot more energy to get through the body's natural resistances."

"It could be some new form of enchantment. Demonic magic is always giving us unpleasant surprises," Kozash suggested.

"If they could release an enchantment that strong with a few bloody crystals then half the northern armies would be napping as we speak!"

Kozash didn't argue with that, though he looked slightly worried at the implications of the elder orc's suggestion.

"You're both right," Gregory decided it was time to take back the lead in the conversation. "There was an enchantment cast over the camp that night. When I put on the ring I could feel it inside those who slept. But it bypassed many of the natural resistances you spoke of, elder, because it was already inside those who were afflicted."

He stopped in his explanation to place his hands on the sides of the barrel.

Both Kozash and Urgin looked down at the clear water and took on mutual expressions of understanding. Kozash's eyes widened at the realisation, and Urgin curled his lip in disgust. Borika had already been informed of the plot, and simply moved toward the barrel. Each shaman stepped toward the barrel after taking up empty cups from the nearby tables. They each dipped their cups in the water and took a sample for examination.

Borika could have instructed them in the proper diagnostic spell to determine the nature of the taint in the water, but she held her tongue. She was seen to be an ally and lover of Gregory, and the elders needed to come to their own conclusions without her assistance. Thanks to Torren, it wasn't as if they had only a limited supply of the tainted water to experiment on.

Urgin managed to activate the taint first, and the water seemed to radiate with strange green veins of energy running through its shimmering surface. Kozash mimicked the elder's spell moments later and the veins showed up in his own cup causing him to gasp out in shock and fling the water onto the ground. Urgin merely spat in the cup and flung the contents back inside the barrel.

"The human has tainted our water supply!" Wren cried out; standing from his seat and pointing to Gregory.

"Horseshit," Ulag grunted. He didn't bother to stand, but his denunciation certainly flattened any building support for Wren's words. "Humans don't get anywhere near the wells, Wren. You know it. Each one is guarded, and I personally make sure those guards are up to standard. I've had to endure a human-poisoned water supply before, and I damn sure don't want to see it happen again. If this was done, then it was an orc that did it. If one of the human slaves came within a spear's distance of the wells they'd find themselves tripping over their own intestines before they could poison anything."

"He could have had one of his pack do the deed," Wren insisted.

"Are you accusing my son of betrayal!?" Grolfir had apparently reached his own limit, and very nearly overturned the entire high-table as he stood up to face the elder shaman.

"If I may," Gregory quickly interjected before Grolfir could try to turn Wren into a bloody mess. If he did, it would likely have started something along the lines of a damned civil war given how divided the orcs were just then. "I have more evidence that I think might show us the real traitors responsible for tainting the wells."

"Then speak on, boy." Urgin urged; ignoring what was going on at the high table entirely.

Grolfir growled aggressively at Wren, a wolfish noise that turned the blood cold. Though Wren seemed not to hear it, and was concentrating intently on Gregory with his own loathing clearly marked in his gaze.

So, Gregory turned to ignore him and gestured for Algra to step forward. She removed a small pouch from a belt strapped about her waist and offered it to him.

"This was discovered at the training glade shortly after we were attacked." He opened the strings on the pouch and watched as both Urgin and Kozash recoiled at the sight of the blue shards within.

"Shadeglass!" Urgin hissed the word with revulsion and took a step backward.

"Such a thing is unwelcome in this place, boy!" Kozash yelled whilst covering his mouth as if he might be poisoned.

The blue glass had been ground almost to sand, but there was enough to make a showing of it.

"It wasn't wielded by any black orc. Instead, it had been forged into an orb and placed at the head of a wand. That wand had been given to the commander of the raiders, and he died holding it in his hand."

"Do you know what that cursed glass does!? It leeches the soul. Get it out of here, now!" Kozash ordered.

"Wait!" Urgin commanded. "You're trying to show us something, aren't you? The one who led the raiding party wasn't one of the corrupted. It was one of us."

"Enough of these lies!" Wren stood up and hunched over the high table to slam his fist down hard against the wood. "I challenge you, human! Here and now. To the death!"

"Let him speak!" Grolfir roared, and also lifted himself to his feet.

With the two leaders standing, the rest of the hall immediately trembled and screeched as every orc assembled within leapt to their feet and reached for their weapons.

"He doesn't need to speak!" Urgin made himself heard over the noise. "The magic of shadeglass absorbs the soul of any who dare wield it, and if such a wand was created with it as the human says? It would have consumed the wielder's spirit upon its release! All that need be done to find out who held this wand is to release that final soul from the shadeglass."

"Nonsense!" Wren screamed. "This human could have bewitched it to show anyone!"

Gregory sensed the attack coming, and immediately fastened the pouch before throwing its contents toward Urgin. The old orc caught it out of the air, finding that his revulsion for the shadeglass had been outweighed by his curiosity.

The ground beneath Gregory's feet then started to shift, as the stones were lifted and the roots that ran beneath the earth began to lash out against him. The challenge had been taken, whether the human liked it or not, and Wren had opted to use magic as his weapon of choice. The roots whipped at him, and entwined themselves around his wrists to pull his arms apart.

Wren clearly didn't want to leave the pleasure of killing him to his magic, and had leapt upon the high table to unsheathe a long ceremonial knife.

All around, the great hall descended into chaos as the orcs began to fight each other. Supporters of Wren pushed forward to attempt to reinforce the attack, and Grolfir's followers leapt to the defensive. The war-chief himself had taken Wren's attack as something of a final straw, and upon seeing the elder ready to pounce, he actually overturned the enormous wooden table entirely. It was too late. Wren had already leapt forward with both hands clasped on the handle of his knife, ready to bury it in Gregory's chest.

Nullik and Frelki had other ideas, and both of the agile warriors slipped beneath the lashing roots and used their own knives to slice open their alpha's bonds. It allowed him to leap back into the safety of his pack, who had already taken up a circular protective formation to hold off any attacks.

As the hall erupted into chaos and orc fought against orc, only Urgin maintained his calm. Ignoring a chair flying very close past his head, the old shaman began his spell. Wren noticed him, and had clearly not thought that one of his own wouldn't follow his lead. It forced him to divert his attention from Gregory, and reach out in an attempt to interrupt Urgin's incantation.

That attempted interruption was in turn interrupted by Grolfir's fist smashing against Wren's jaw. The war-chief had decided enough was enough, and had taken the entire argument to single combat. Wren recovered from the blow just in time to dodge out of the way of the next one that had been barrelling toward his nose. Despite his advanced years, Wren moved with a lethal quickness that didn't seem possible. At a glance, the very idea of him facing down the sheer enormity of Grolfir's muscle mass was laughable. Yet as things continued, it became clear that the shaman was a capable fighter in his own right, and he held his own against the big orc's attacks.