The Missing Dragon Ch. 04

"I thought she might kill you for a minute."

"Well it'd be your fault if she did."

"Hey!"

"It was your idea."

"You think she'll be ok?"

"She's worried about what comes next." He turned to look ahead of them where the camp could be seen between the foliage. His expression grew sombre. Algra wasn't the only one troubled at the thought of him returning to the proving grounds.

"Everyone is." Janette watched him closely, unsure of her footing on the subject.

"I'm that popular?"

"You stood up for Valise. You're bringing Emmet's family here. Bolut admires you. Algra and yours truly are both truly yours, and I'm pretty sure Talina would walk over hot coals if you asked her to. Though I'm not exactly sure why."

Gregory took a few steps in silence as he thought about all the people he'd met in the strange new world in such a short time. It probably that meant he wasn't the stalwart introvert he was back on Earth anymore. He turned to Janette as they left the forest and made their way through some open grass toward the noise and bustle of the encampment.

"You know, for such a supposedly beloved guy, I sure do get punched a lot."

Those wise words of reflection brought a sudden laugh from Janette's throat that formed her mouth into a stunning smile. She slipped her arm into his, feeling muscle that had strengthened considerably over the past months.

"We wouldn't want you going soft, now would we?"

"That doesn't often happen with you around, Jan."

"Did you just make a wang joke?"

"Maybe."

* * * * *

They arrived back at the camp and took some dinner by the fire. Algra had stormed past everyone to take her leave in their tent. No one decided to pester her. An angry orc might literally take someone's head off. Instead Gregory and Janette had settled down to the usual helping of meaty broth on offer from the cooking pot. It was a pleasant surprise as he got fresh, tender pork with chopped carrots and onions. He'd gotten used to chicken and beef, but it certainly made a nice change of pace.

"So you are to return to the provings?" Talina asked him as she poured a bowl from the cooking pot for Torren and then herself.

"That's the plan." Gregory had finished his meal just after Talina and Torren had emerged from their tent. He'd scooped Janette up to sit in his lap. She was peeling an apple for them to share for dessert and he'd been busying himself lightly teasing his lips across her earlobe.

"It is not a good one." Talina took her bowl and jabbed a spoon into it almost spitefully.

Gregory turned his attention from nibbling on his favourite redhead to look over at Talina.

"It won't be like it was last time. I can handle myself better, and Ulag's proven his point. So I doubt we're going to be set up against the wrecking machines again."

"The Berserkers," Talina corrected him. "They are the worst you could face, but not the only ones who are dangerous. All orcs fight for glory in the provings. They are young, and prone to excessive violence. Your new pack leaves much to be desired."

"Come on, Ulf seems to have a good head on his shoulders. They can't be that bad."

"One of them doesn't have all his limbs. One has taken too many hard knocks to the head. Two look like they'd get blown away in a stiff breeze. Then there's Ulla, who might kill you herself before the other packs can get their fists on you. I've watched them fight. They are a glorious mess."

"Well, that's something to look forward to then."

"You'll get 'em." Janette unexpectedly spoke up before popping a slice of apple between Gregory's lips.

He blinked at her, then remembered to chew. "You've changed your tone."

"What? Hey, I don't want you going back there but if you are dead set on it then I might as well be supportive." She leaned in and pecked his cheek with her silky lips. The touch left a pleasant tingle on his skin.

"Thanks, Jan."

"No problemo. Just promise me that you won't get your head knocked in again."

That brought an unexpected laugh from him before he nodded obediently. "Alright, I promise I won't get my head knocked in."

"Well, since you two have decided to take leave of your senses, I'll eat elsewhere." Talina hopped up onto her feet and took her meal back to her tent.

They all watched after her before Torren turned back to look at Gregory, "She's just worried about you, sir."

"Torren, don't call me 'sir'. It makes me feel old." Gregory smiled and then shifted his gaze to watch after Talina. "You should go to her."

"When she's in that sour a mood? Would you like to go and spend some time with Algra right now?"

Gregory glanced back to their tent where Algra was likely breaking things. He didn't particularly want to be on the list of available things to break.

"Fair point."

"Talina does speak the truth though, si- um,"

"Don't call me 'um' either, Torren. My name's Gregory, or Greg."

The bulky smith nodded his apology before continuing. "I mean, the Runts are the least amongst the packs. Perhaps you should seek out another alpha to fight for?"

Gregory immediately shook his head at that idea.

"No. Ulf stuck his neck out for me. I'm not going to rub his face in the mud by asking around for better offers behind his back."

Torren didn't seem to have thought about it that way, and that seemed to bother him for a moment before he shrugged his massive shoulders. "Well, if you need any help then I'll do all I can, Greg."

"Thanks. Now, I should really go and let them know I'm ready to rejoin them." He gave Janette's rump a gentle pat. She hopped up onto her feet and then pulled him close after he'd stood up.

The kiss she gave him tasted of apples and her own uniquely delicious flavour. It sizzled with a slow, deep passion. She didn't want to let him go. When they parted, he saw a tear had spilled down her cheek. The girl was obviously more concerned than she let on. After all, the last time he'd left her to go to the proving grounds she'd nearly been left alone amongst the orcs.

"Hey, I'll be back," Gregory said, trying his best to channel Schwarzenegger.

Janette laughed aloud at that, mirth momentarily replacing sadness in her eyes.

"Ok, first you're Conan and now you're the Terminator. Make your mind up." She sniffed and hugged him close.

He smiled and hugged her right back, only to realise that getting that close to a girl like Janette Riley gave a guy the idea to never let her go again. He felt the warm curves of her breasts pressed against his chest, the gentle embrace of her arms around his shoulders and he could still taste her on his lips. It was a hard thing to let her go, especially knowing where he was about to venture off to.

So she made it easier for him and stepped away after giving him one last little kiss to say goodbye. After that, Gregory willed himself to turn away and found that most of the camp was looking at him. Most of the faces he saw seemed concerned, though some were merely curious. He walked through them and onto the dirt path, making his way towards the proving grounds and feeling not entirely unlike someone on his way to meet his doom. Strangely, he found himself smiling at that thought. He couldn't die out there, Janette would never forgive him and Algra would kill him all over again.

"Well then," he said to himself as he walked over the road, "I'd better go kick some ass."

* * * * *

The Runts were already halfway through the morning's practice routine when he arrived at the proving grounds. He walked over to them, trying to ignore the stares of the other orcs around him. When he arrived beside his pack-mates, he gave them a nod of greeting as they each stopped their sparring to marvel at the fact he was still walking. After a brief moment of stunned silence, Ulf stepped forward to extend his arm out to the human.

"You return to us," he said.

"If you'll still have me." Gregory shook Ulf's offered arm in the orcish fashion with each holding to the other's forearm.

"More fists are always welcome."

"The First knows we couldn't do much worse," Nullik added.

Ulf shot him a glare and the prankster immediately shut up. Gregory waited a moment before Ulf looked back to him to size him up. "You will train with Ulla today."

At the alpha's orders, Ulla stepped forwards with a somewhat bloodthirsty smile framing her small tusks. Gregory looked back to her and kept his expression cool. In truth he'd have liked to start out with the slim female orc in the pack, or even better, Nullik. They were at least his size. Ulla was larger and more muscular, though her figure retained a distinctly feminine shape. She reminded him of a somewhat more psychotic Algra.

Off to a brilliant start then.

He stepped past Ulf for Nullik and the slim female to offer him a basic chest-plate and a single club. The slender orc introduced herself as Frelki and on closer inspection he saw that she was quite a bit older than the rest of the pups. He didn't rightly know how orc aging worked, but they shared many features with humans besides the tusks and the rich green skin. The rest of Frelki's features settled her somewhere in her late twenties to early thirties. Even for a pack of supposed "pups" there was an even older orc amongst them. Seated on a fallen log, the massive orc with plenty of grey strands in his black hair was watching him whilst taking a drink from a water skin with his only arm. A dull metal pauldron-like piece of armour covered the shoulder where the other limb had been evidently cleaved away. The question of the one-armed orc in the Runts had been nagging Gregory for weeks, but he'd known better than to ask around about it. Orcs could get very touchy about matters of war and honour, and he guessed that One-Arm wasn't exactly still fighting in the proving grounds without one of his limbs due to his feats of honour and bravery.

Unfortunately, Greg had no time for curiosity or questions as he came to face Ulla. The rest of the pack quickly gave them some space and settled in to watch the impending beat-down. Ulla was happy to get it over with and wasted no time at all in charging him down.

He could see the battle-rage burning fiercely in her eyes as she closed the distance between them. Weeks of training and a natural instinct for fighting brought forth the fear and the thrill of combat. Taking his favoured battle stance, he braced himself to meet that charge head on. It didn't help. He'd given too much ground allowing Ulla to easily dodge his overhead blow and smash her club hard against his chest-plate. The armour just about managed to stop his ribs from breaking all over again. It wasn't nearly as successful in keeping the air in his lungs, leaving him gasping and stunned. Ulla finished him off with ease, casually kicking him off his feet to send him plummeting forwards to the ground and finally turning her back on him.

"Well, that was encouraging," Nullik sarcastically whispered to Frelki.

"Again!" Ulf roared.

Gregory took a deep breath, slammed his fists into the dirt and pushed himself up to his feet. Stupid. Training day and night with one of the deadliest warriors in the camp and it had taken barely more than a second into his first spar with another partner to forget everything he'd been taught. Snatching up his club, he turned back to Ulla who had circled about to face him again.

The second bout lasted a bit longer than the first. It took Ulla an entire six seconds to plant him in the dirt, this time on his back.

"Again!" The command came from Ulf before Gregory had even landed.

"This is brilliant," Nullik said. "He can fall over so much that we'll be out of the provings before the other packs can even get to the rest of us."

Ulla was grinning maliciously as he pulled himself back up once more to face her. "The human grows soft between his bitch's thighs."

She didn't know it at the time, but Ulla Strongblood very probably saved Gregory's life with those words. They had an almost reverse zen-like effect on him, as all his fears and self-doubts seemed to seep away into one focused beam of rage. He no longer felt angry at himself, for he was suddenly filled with a wild and desperate need to beat the living shit out of her.

"Fuck this," Gregory growled before throwing the unbalanced training club into the dirt and raising his fists instead.

Ulla laughed with glee at the human throwing away his weapon. She decided to break one of his bones to teach him an evidently much needed lesson about coming prepared.

Ulf watched the two opponents with a grim expression whilst he waited for the seemingly inevitable. Gregory's performance had been so bad that he wasn't going to be able to take part in pack manoeuvres. It would be too dangerous for him. Ulla was their best fighter, but even she was often outmatched by their opponents when set against the other packs. If Gregory couldn't even take on one orc, how would he fare when it came to fighting three?

It was then that Ulf saw the change in the human. The young man's eyes seemed to clear and he stood upright as Ulla started a final charge of brutal intent. Gregory simply didn't move. He didn't take up any of his fighting stances. He didn't dance around to make himself a harder target. Instead, he simply stood stock still. The thought of what was coming made Ulf wince for the boy, though he resisted the urge to cover his eyes.

Except when Ulla did reach Gregory, things didn't quite go to according to expectations. Instead of dodging back and conceding ground to her, he took a single stepped forwards and jammed both his fists directly into her exposed shoulder. The blow connected like a hammer on a bare joint, and the sudden move caught her completely off-guard sending a sharp bolt of pain up her arms and down her neck. She barely had the time to scream before Gregory moved again and planted his fist squarely in her jaw. The crushing impact sent the unbalanced orc flying backwards to land on her ass in the dirt. Her club landed several paces behind her.

He took a sure step back to where he'd been standing. It took him a few moments for the red mist to clear when he realised what he'd just done. He'd won! Someone else had a mouthful of dirt for a change. Orcs weren't all invincible behemoths of unbeatable force.

Oh, and he'd just hit a girl.

Crap.

When that last thought sailed through his mind like a mouldy raven his anger faded and he stepped towards Ulla to check if she was alright. She'd tried to get up but he'd clocked her so hard that it was proving to be more of a task than she'd anticipated. It was hard to get her legs beneath her when it seemed as if she suddenly had six of them.

"I'm sorry about-" He started his apology, only to be met with a another roar of rage from her.

She finally found her footing, grabbed her club and ran at him as if possessed by a demon.

Gregory saw the danger, but the fear and the uncertainty of battle didn't return this time. Instead, he reacted exactly how Algra had shown him. No thoughts were cast to the short-fight, and he simply let instinct take him along the sidestep to dodge Ulla's opening blow. Focusing on the long-fight, he saw an immediate opportunity as Ulla was thrown off balance by her own club. This time, he brought his forearm up under her chin and pushed hard to take her off her feet and bring her down on her back. He quickly descended upon her and pressed his arm against her throat.

"Yield!" For the first time it was a command rather than a declaration.

She growled, clawed and spat. Her legs were lifted on either side of him, her heels desperately kicking against his sides. She couldn't get a solid kick on him, and he'd immediately pinned her weapon arm to the ground. Her only free limb was used punched him on his upper arm with her free hand albeit at an awkward angle. It hurt like hell. He could take it.

She didn't yield. He realised that she'd probably choke herself out before giving up willingly. It would take a different tactic to best her, so he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her upright. She wasn't expecting it. Nor was she expecting him to roll backwards with her in tow, plant his foot on her stomach and hurl her backwards over his head and into a nearby empty weapon rack.

She clattered into the wooden beams like a bowling ball hitting a fresh strike.

Gregory looked over to her and got back to his feet. Ulla only groaned before slowly trying to get back up. This time there was no rage or fight left in her, and Gregory was privately very glad to see that she didn't reach for her club again.

Nullik burst out laughing. He'd never seen anyone beat Ulla in single combat, let alone seen it done quite so spectacularly.

"Good." Ulf stepped forward. "Very good. But why did you not press your advantage when you had her on the ground?"

Gregory made an effort to calm his breathing before answering.

"Wasn't a very good way to win," he said with a shrug.

Ulf nodded, looking at the human with more respect. "You learn well. But you must fight with a weapon. Frelki will teach you."

With those words, Ulf gave Gregory a pat on the shoulder and then turned back to help out Ulla. She promptly shoved him away and went off to sit and sulk by herself at losing to a mere human. Frelki approached Gregory a little while later and offered him back his training club.

They spent until sunset practicing. Frelki was a patient teacher and the training was much easier on him than Algra's had been. The slender female seemed to have a somewhat gentler nature compared to most orcs. Although it soon became quite clear that she knew what she was talking about, and Gregory dutifully paid attention.

"Swing with the club. You're countering your weight against it. It won't be as powerful." Frelki advised before showing him the difference.

Gregory wasn't so sure that was the best way of going about things. Orcs were powerful foes, but they tended to be too top-heavy in their charges and if Ulla hadn't put her weight behind her swing in that third bout then he probably wouldn't have gotten such an easy advantage. Deciding it was best to do as he was told, he swung the club as instructed and then looked back to receive an approving smile and a nod from his tutor.

Frelki wasn't built like most orcs, and he supposed that made her all the more interesting to his eyes. Her tusks were smaller than both Algra's and Ulla's, despite her being obviously older than both. She was also the first orc he'd seen that didn't have black hair. Instead, it was a mousey brown colour that looked quite appealing on her green head. She wore it in a simple braid that fell down her back.

Her body was tall, but leaner and far more slender than most of her kin. He'd particularly noted her legs, which were bare and rather gorgeously streamlined. The gentle curves of those long stems had made him cast more than a single thought to what her ass looked like beneath her skirt. Though he tried not to dwell on those thoughts when she was teaching him something that might save him getting beaten to death. It was clear in her demonstrations and her movements that she was remarkably fit and almost eerily agile. She'd just been given the body of a ballerina as opposed to a bodybuilder. Strong, yet perhaps a little too fragile.

Frelki's voice was easy to listen to, without the hard edge that most orc's carried in their throats. Though she did seem a little too gentle, or even timid. It made her stunningly cute, with a cheeky smile and keen eyes. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite so sure that the words cute, gentle, or timid were ideal to describe a companion who he might be going into a straight-up brawl alongside.

As the light started to fall away, Ulag marched out of his own tent to bark fresh orders to the assembled pups.