Natural Magic

Chapter 30 - Commander

“This wasn’t done by ordinary fire.” The orc held up a cinder for Justafar to see. “This looks like it was burned from the inside out.”

They had arrived at the new territory where the flying beast had attacked. The scene was already days old. He had his orcs fan out for clues about what had done this and where it went.

Goblins and lizardfolk busied themselves in rooting through the burned remains of the encampment, supervised by the orcs of the troop, restless for the challenge posed by this mystery flamebeast.

He took the bit of charcoal and sniffed it. It smelled putrid. There was something more to the burned leather, like the smell of bile.

“It stuck to what it was burning,” he said. He let the piece fall to the ground and he surveyed the wreckage again.

There was where they had recovered the unconscious orcs. When they had come around, they had reported a strange sensation of not being able to breathe amidst the burning camp. It wasn’t for all the smoke, either.

The flames, the blue flames which had started eating the camp, emitted much less smoke than fire of that intensity and diet usually did. It was the sensation of pure burning, something wholly apart from merely being set on fire.

There hadn’t been smoke until the beast’s flames had ignited real fire. Normal fire. The blue flames clung and burned, and nearby fuel erupted in mundane fire from the intense heat, much like how an artist good enough at their trade spawns forfeiters and imitators.

“And these rocks are melted,” the orc pointed out. “You can see where the beast’s flames hit, and where the real fire picked up from the intensity. The beast’s flames didn’t spread, neither. They just clung to what they hit and filled it with heat. That ain’t right or proper, sire.” The orc make a sucking sound through his teeth, feeling pensive from the weirdness.

Justafar scanned the skies before asking, “Where did the village dwellers go?”

The orc was on more stable ground here.

“There’s a huge mess of footprints all around, but we were able to find two trails. One ends just over there,” and here he pointed at a large rock that would make decent cover from the sun, “and the other trail heads toward the city, sire.”

Justafar begrudgingly saw the wisdom of having an expert around. This orc – Killbrute, he remembered – wasn’t much good in a fight. He could hold his own, but Justafar didn’t think he was worth a spot on the team for it. But he saw things the others didn’t. It was a special kind of tenacity, Justafar decided, that allowed him to pursue a target without getting turned around, confused, or otherwise thwarted.

“Bring me the ones responsible for this operation.”

Moments after saying this, two orcs were tossed bodily on the ground in front of Justafar. They squirmed to reorient themselves, but stayed prostrated in the dirt.

“A Bloodboil and a Marrowcrack? No wonder. I’m only surprised snakes and pigs hadn’t fallen from the sky. I don’t know what Lord Kairon is even doing.” He shook his head piteously. “Name enemies your friends and you only find yourself surrounded. How have you not killed each other yet?”

“Rigorous and I-“ one of them said, but was kicked by the other with a stark hiss, so he shut up.

“Your punishment will be your continued…cooperation,” Justafar said ominously. “Your charges have escaped, but we know what direction they have gone.”

Silence reigned, so Justafar continued.

“You took them once, so you can do it again. Killbrute here will fill you in on the details.”