Novigrad (Part 14)

'Alan, he is an orc warrior. Be careful this time. Orcs are superior to humans in terms of physical power. If we, elves, excel in magic, they are naturally born warriors with bodies that can rival witchers. It is all because of the unique force they harness inside their bodies. They have a certain bloodline power and know how to use it in a link with mana to train themselves.' - Naevis sent her thought to warn Alan.

Orcs came from beyond the Korath desert. Their tribal lands were even further than Zarikania.

The Malakar steppe stretched from the eastern border of the known world to undiscovered lands. Mainly orcs keep to themselves and are one of the original races of this world. Their society never cared about other races, yet they are very strong as mercenaries. It is a common practice to see them hired on the territory of Zerikania, but in Northern lands, orcs are akin to a myth. Some people here even regard them as demons of fables and not natives of this world.

Of course, that is just a lack of knowledge.

'Mana training, huh? Looks like it is something similar to what I gave to witchers from the knowledge of Amalgal. So that hunk of meat can be rather dangerous. He surely is above me in physical strength.' - thought Alan in a split second that he had as a breather.

Next second a huge bare-chested orc jumped at him like a ferocious beast. He was surprisingly agile for his size, making most enemies Alan fought before pale in comparison. That guy stood on an entirely different level of skill and body power.

He remembered lessons with Eskell.

The witcher was not as fast and fit as Geralt, but in terms of build, he surpassed the latter with confidence. Back then Alan wasn't as tall and fit as he is now, and training duels with Eskell left him with many noticeable wounds.

But what he learned is to never confront higher physical power with just a body. No matter how strong he might be, his weight can't compare with a giant or a griffin.

Pure laws of physics in play.

The same goes for this orc. Trying to block his blows is plain suicide. At least, his wrist won't make it for sure with a high weight and reach that humongous ax has.

Alan assembled a stance, and with two fast steps dodged the frontal attack. Wind pressure swept near him, causing even rain to give way. But what the orc did later made young witcher understand how experienced and versatile his enemy was. At the last moment, he rotated the ax, slammed it flat on the ground, and used bouncing force to perform a fast side swing.

It wasn't that powerful but went diagonally for his knees right from the feet level.

Even if the power was lacking, such an ingenious move can make a foe limp on one leg. Normally Alan would have teleported away, but today he can't muster even an ounce of mana inside his body.

'That is my flaw! I'm not that skilled without teleportation. No matter how hard I tried to train, I always had this ability.'

He had no chance to avoid, so he punched it with a battle glove. Luckily, armor plating was very strong on them and punching power strong enough to send dreadful weapon away, however, orc just smirked and used the momentum to twirl the ax.

It came from another side in a split second, forcing Alan to back off again.

"He-he, ya quite well trained, fledgling. Fast, strong but inexperienced." - thundered the rough voice of the orc. He wasn't mocking Alan, just stating a fact. For orcs who lived in a constant state of tribal wars and mature among skirmishes from a young age, Alan's battle experience was insufficient.

But he made a grave mistake. He underestimated the learning ability of someone with a mythical bloodline and Eternal Mind.

Alan breathed out and relaxed his body. Stiffness in muscles during a fight was a direct way for death.

Young witcher changed his body stance. They clashed again.

"How's that, fledgling?" - laughed orc when Alan rolled away from a frontal chop after the former could use ax as a hook on the leg to disrupt the stance. Alan nearly lost his life a moment ago.

"You fight like a dwarf." - grumbled Alan. - "They go for legs because they are short. You?"

Orc didn't like what he heard. He was rather simple-minded.

Young witcher adapted to his pattern of attacks. If one thought it was a simple battle style, that would be a mistake. With tremendous experience and training, his foe fought with a very effective style, not showing openings at all.

It is only in the books muscle-heads can't win against smart people in a fight because of some unbelievable thinking process of the later. In reality, reflexes and body training ruled supreme in direct combat.

"Ya brat, stop running away and fight like a true warrior! Ugh..." - Gurtun tried to get Alan with a punch, instead, his arm was cut with a shallow wound, barely enough to make it bleed. - "Ya pissing me off, fledgling!"

Orc was like a raging bull, but after some time, he found it harder to make the foe move according to his rhythm, but he still could trade cut for a cut, blow for a blow. Alan didn't notice shallow wounds.

Sword flashed in the night among the rain. Its runes were burning with blood and residual mana, but huge ax wrecked everything around, destroying crates and fences. One was a silent a fast reaper, another raging hurricane of steel and power.

Without magical support, he was getting tired fast.

Suddenly, he made a mistake. It supposed to be another simple shift, but he stepped onto a muddy, broken tile of stone and his foot slid just a bit. Still, this little detail was enough for a tribal warrior to take advantage of.

Ax immediately changed trajectory mid-flight and went lower and further than usual. Alan could only bring his sword in protective movement, but the force of the blow was tremendous, hurling him flying to the wall with a deep rend at the side of the stomach.

Alan slammed on uneven stones and felt his ribs cracking. Still, he didn't scream or wince. The wound was grievous, but under all elixirs not fatal. Or at least Alan felt it was so.

'Tch.. he broke my right wrist.'

Immediately he shifted sword for left hand and dodged to the side. Ax followed him relentlessly, shooting sparks even under pouring rain.

Just when he was ready to trade a wound for a wound, a line of purple lightning streaked through the air like a whip and slashed bareback open. Orc roared in pain and received a grievous rend across the entire body and flew out like after explosion.

His colossal body was like a kite with a broken string. Even stonewall gave in under the force of impact. Gurtun disappeared in the dark hole with the sound of breaking bones.

Alan looked at the side and gaped at what he saw.

In front of him, a portal ark shone with dim luster.

"Remarkable." - a woman came out of it and snapped her fingers to create an invisible umbrella. - "I expected my spell to rip that lump of meat in pieces, but it seems I need one more to do so."

Her purple eyes looked at the youth leaning over the wall and gorgeous brows furrowed in displeasure but soon relaxed.

"Your healing ability under elixirs is good. You won't die right away. But seriously, is it your hobby? Or all witchers are like that, huh? What you learned from Geralt is to appear in front of me in that sorry state?" - she complained while brushing off curvy black hair to the side and coming closer. - "Don't move, you are hurt badly. Don't move, I said! Why should I always repeat myself? You are like him, stubborn as a mule to preserve the image of an infallible warrior. Let me tell you a secret, that is not attractive at all. So be a dear, stop your sorry body from moving and let me patch up the mess you become."

"Naevis." - Alan said with tiredness.

"Worry about yourself." - Yennefer rolled his charming eyes at him and with no tenderness slammed him to the ground in a lying position. - "Rience is dead, your precious elf is there, unconsciousness but not hurt. Oh, please, don't wince, I know full well that is not enough to kill you."

"You really don't know how to be tender to the wounded."

"If my tenderness could heal you, I would have undoubtedly poured all my overflowing love and gentleness into nursing you. Sadly, the world doesn't work that way. So shut up and don't move. You are disrupting me." - Yen said in a sarcastic tone, but Alan was very perceptive of people. She was like Selena, but way more thorny and guarded. Deep under the facade of ruthless bitch hid a warm heart, wounded and scared to show affection, scared of love.

"You are surprisingly kind." - said Alan suddenly.

"Surprisingly can be omitted." - she declared with a scoff. - "If you open your mouth again to say some nonsensical things, I will leave you bleeding to death here." - yet she didn't stop for a moment. - "You didn't notice, right? The poison on the blade. And even didn't notice the shamanic curse on it. You can't use magic now, so it is understandable, but at least you could have looked under your feet, no? Can't you notice that this entire corner of the street is red with your blood? You witchers... is it fun to always risk your necks to only die in some drainage hole?"

She complained without stop, that was rather unusual.

"I'm fine."

"You are not playing some tough man in front of me, are we clear? Lay down obediently! It is not bravery, but stupidity. You just look at that! He nearly cleaved you in half! Just a bit more and blade would have gone through your spine. And you are telling me you are fine?" - Yen said coldly with a frozen face, but her eyes were burning with something Alan failed to understand. - "Witchers... why can't you regard your life a bit higher..."

"Orc?"

"Ha.. am I speaking to a wall? What part of my order to keep silent you can't comprehend? It seems Geralt overrated your intelligence." - she admonished him again. Her hands danced under his wound, while Alan started to feel dizzy. It seems Yennefer was right, that wound was not as simple as it looked.

"If not dead, then I'll make him dead soon enough. A shamanic curse, bah! Just some uneducated mess! Finally done. Rest. I said to rest here and now! Do you think I can't create a comfortable environment here? Am I some street herbalist? Look at yourself. Drenched and weak like a little puppy. Pathetic. Never show that image in front of me again. Do you get it, Wolfie?"

"Wolfie?"

"Yes, that pathetic wolf character in any fairytale that always ends up dead in the end. Satisfied?"

"You are really unforgiving, milady Yennefer." - he said weakly under the snort of a woman. - "Thank you."

"You better get well after all the effort I wasted on you here." - she said with a very rare trace of warmth deep in her voice. - "You kids... you cause so much trouble."

Despite her spiteful words, Alan felt protected and at ease near Yen. He felt strange. He never could give birth to such emotions in front of anyone before. Selena was different. She positioned herself as an easy-going peer, or at most like an elder sister.

However Yen... she is too powerful, too old and experienced and, perhaps, too regal in some sense to be just a peer for him. She placed herself in a higher ground. If Alan felt Selena near him holding his hand, then Yennefer was behind him, embracing him and offsetting the storms of the world around.

Like a protector... or a parent.