Chapter 168

Olasird'arc raised his head and stared down at the orc. "I know your smell." He said, and huffed out a puff of cool air from his nostrils that blew like a fog over the unmoving orc.

The orc male went down to his knees. "I know your everything. Your partner showed me mercy. She showed my mate mercy. She showed my children mercy. I repay mercy." He said and slapped his open hand over his chest hard enough that it made a loud clap.

"How?" Olasird'arc asked.

"You are hurt. Your partner, no magic. The humans would kill you. We have magic, we can heal you faster. But… you will not eat us, yes?" The orc asked.

Olasird'arc raised his head and sniffed the air. There were other orc smells nearby. "No. Heal me, and help me, and I will not eat you." Olasird'arc replied, "I give my oath as a dragon."

The orc grunted. He then turned his head and gave a long, loud series of hyena-like barks and an old orc wearing a number of small bones as a necklace, and carrying a staff with a fist sized blue gem wrapped tightly amidst knotted wood as if it grew that way, came close. "Heal the dragon."

Olasird'arc lowered his head and rested it with his cheek against the ground and waited, the pain of his landing still hadn't subsided.

"Where is the Mad Eyed Archer? The Forest Spirit Woman? Has the Merciful Guardian died?" The orc asked.

Olasird'arc raised his head, "Why would you ask that?" Olasird'arc asked, the magic wafted over him, his body briefly glowing white, and his wounds began to heal again. "And those names… I know her as Neia Baraja."

"She has many names north of the wall now. Few humans spare our lives, those who do, we remember. We must fight, but though many humans tell lies, we too love our children, and prize them. Orcs, stone spitters, snakepeople, others, give names to her. The snakewomen call her 'egg mother' for sparing clutches and letting survivors leave with their young. Stone spitters, 'stone child' for giving a rock each for her hunt survivors to protect themselves from monsters on the way home, on the promise that they retreat and not harm her people. I never thought to meet her myself. Never thought to see she who heals dragons with my eyes, nor receive her gift of life. Now you are here and she is not. What should I think?" The orc shrugged.

"She was taken by her people." Olasird'arc replied, "I left at her request when I heard her people approach.

"Then she is dead, and you have not seen her body." The orc's piggish face looked down at the ground. "Your loss, I hope, was not too great. She was a worthy enemy in our eyes, the Mad One and her mercy will not soon be forgotten."

"Why would she be dead?" Olasird'arc asked with a faint growl under his breath.

The orc looked up at him, "Because death is the penalty for helping any nonhuman beyond the wall. We have sometimes known their scouts from the wall to come to us, to trade in knowledge or goods, though whether they are allowed, we do not know. But we learn from them of human laws. To show us mercy is a great crime, to heal you, how much more so? She sentenced herself to death when she did not kill you. A painful death, a slow death, we will hear her screams from here."

Olasird'arc had always taken it as his due that others should serve his will, anyone he could compel into his service, he bound them there. There was no reason not to, and there was no reason to care about them as they would have abandoned him if they could have, even his own children remained secured to him largely out of fear of disobedience.

It had not occurred to him that the human that spared his life was trading away her own by her own volition by doing so. It left a taste in his mouth he did not care for.

But something the orc said caught his attention. "Why would you hear her screams from here, orc?"

"The stake death is on the wall. They will bind her there, pierce her belly with a sword and make it face the hills, that way we hear them scream until they die. It takes many hours, sometimes days. I once saw a man last a week. My eyes are good. I saw they used cold water to keep him awake. That... that is no way to die. The stronger you are, the longer it hurts." The orc did not bother to suppress his shudder.

Olasird'arc let out a long, angry, even possessive growl as if someone threatened to steal his hoarded treasure. "They will, will they?"

"If there is more, we don't know. But we hear that, learn that, and see that. That is more than I like to know." The orc answered. "Now you are healed and your partner is dead, you will keep your word, not eat us, yes? Where will you go?" The orc asked, taking a single unsteady, uncertain step backward.

"Yes. You are safe. As to what next…" Olasird'arc let that sentence hang as he thought the matter over.

"You could stay with us, you are strong, many would follow your strength. That we fought once," the orc shrugged, "many fight, they are enemies by name or need, that is all. We have no hate for the one to spare us."

Olasird'arc thought that over thoroughly and a plan began to form. "Does that apply to the Mad Eyed Archer?"

"Yes." The orc nodded. "Great hunters are needed by all tribes, orc, zern, and others. Since she began the hunts long before she took to the wilds, some of those she spared now have mates and children, and a life debt none thought to repay. If she is here, and does not fight, she will be treated as a great warrior and great guest."

Olasird'arc's muscles rippled with strength again, his body stretched out, his legs extended and claws scraped deep gashes over a few rocks as he dragged the sharp edges toward himself again, his tail lashed and he tested his wings with a flap that drew him to an upright position like a great peak compared to the tiny orcs on the ground at his feet. "Then keep a watch on the wall, orc, and inform me when she is brought up there. What is next for me, is that I will get my partner back. No one will take from Olasird'arc Haylilyal."

The orc went down to one knee and bowed his head, as did the mage which healed the dragon. "As you command, Mighty One."