Natural Magic

Chapter 34 - Challenge

Chicken was bound and trussed. He was also kicked, spat on, and hefted. It made Ashley furious.

Insolence! she raged in the quiet darkness of Chicken’s head. She struggled with his body against the bindings, but could get no claw near enough to cut them.

They had crossed his arms over his chest to turn his claws inward. His legs they had bound in a lotus pose with his knees propped apart with the shaft of a spear, and had wound his muzzle tightly shut. When the orcs tried to bind his ethereal wings, it was discovered that while they could not be touched by rope, they would vanish when covered by a cloak, so one was draped over his shoulders and secured.

He would have felt like a turkey if he had ever seen one before.

I will not suffer this treatment! she snarled with all the backing force of a swaddled infant.

What flame that could be conjured in his firmly closed mouth trickled out between his teeth, lacking the power of the earlier infernos Ashley had brought forth in the fight. The binding did not catch fire, and the effort gave Chicken a mild headache.

Yet again, he had been captured and held prisoner.

Pathetic drakeling, Ashley’s voice said coldly within Chicken’s mind, I have the strength of mountains. The power of gales. I would have burst this binding like hatching from an egg.

Her judgement oozed with contempt, toxic and scalding.

Your kind will not inherit my power. You are not worthy of the greatness of your ancestors.

Chicken didn’t know what that meant, but at that he felt her spirit settle. The hatred still glowed like an ember, like the patient seed of a fire. Or perhaps like the cracks of still molten magma under the dark and cooling exterior of a lava flow. He knew she would spring at the first hint of escape.

Conversation went on around him as the orcs prepared to move out from the battlefield. They reclaimed their tools and weapons, dropped or scattered about in the skirmish, and as they did, they talked.

“Look at this grapple. Melted and useless.”

“The rope’s still good. Cut it just below the slag.”

“Yeah. All three feet of it. One of its claws went right through the plaiting. I fell flat on my back.”

“Is that why you were sleeping during the fight? Pulled too hard and it sent you sprawling?”

At that, the other orc held the melted grapple threateningly, saying, “It wasn’t with your mother, so it wasn’t sleeping.”

“No wonder she’s grumpy all the time. Must be the constant disappointment.”

“Figured she would expect disappointment, having you for offspring.”

“What am I talking to? That thing you’re holding, or a deformed, useless tool!"

“I can have your eyes checked right now if you want, witless mule!”

A superior officer detected the budding brawl and bowled through the crowd, shoulder checking a few in the audience. Silence grew in his wake, seeping into the two orcs’ fury and drawing their attention. They eventually stood down and faced the officer, though they were clearly still angry.

“Imagine my surprise,” he said coldly, “to hear the mating call of the majestic stoneboar this late in the year.”

The members of the argument shot each other baleful looks as he talked.

“I think to myself, I could use a good tanned hide, or to sink my teeth into some pigs.” He put his fists on his hips and stamped a foot lightly on the rocks. “I track the sound to here. This very place.”