Grak: Private Instigator (Orc PI Book 1)

by Joseph J. Bailey

  “Be kind, Yocto. He couldn’t get worse’n he already is.”

  I roared, lunging forward.

  My restraints resisted. I snarled and pushed forward, heedless. Something cracked, lots of somethings, and fell to the floor in a resonant spray of clangs.

  Baring my fangs, ripping my arms from the cementitious restraints holding me in place on top of a granite slab, I glared around the room, ready to attack.

  I could see again.

  And I did not like what I saw.

  The doctor, who looked like a winged deity bathed in nebulous light that had drifted down from some higher plane, was watching my emergence intently. A silvery loop akin to a crystalline halo was floating near her shoulder.

  I had a feeling the halo was watching me.

  And, like me, it did not like what it saw.

  Yocto was holding his stomach, he was laughing so hard.

  Kordeun was rolling on the floor.

  Literally.

  Before I killed them, I wanted to know why.

  “Why are you laughing?” I screamed.

  “Nothin’…like…a…little…anger…therapy…ta…cure…what…ails…ya,” Kordeun managed between gasps and heaves.

  The doctor smiled, her beatific face filled with an inner radiance.

  I was blinded by the light reflecting off her impossibly white teeth.

  “Excellent work, gentlemen. I believe our work here is done.

  “Until next time, Grak.”

  Done?

  What had they done besides trap me in stone and taunt me?

  Who said there would be a next time?

  My anger began to cool as my confusion and questions grew.

  “Worked like a charm!”

  What did Kordeun mean?

  I dusted myself off, my intended yell now merely a growl. “What are you talking about?”

  “Doc says all ya needed was ta get really angry fer tha healin’ factor ta kick in. I think she was right.”

  Yocto nodded slyly. “Instead of trying to cast healing spells on you that might not work properly, Doctor Ilynea decided the best approach was to let your body heal itself.

  “With a bit o’ incentive.

  “If we got you angry enough, you would heal that much faster.”

  I could not argue with their logic.

  “Why the restraints?”

  “So you would heal in something like a normal shape,” offered Yocto.

  “The doctors decided ya were ugly enough already without yer super healin’ reformin’ ya inta somethin’ even uglier.”

  Kordeun had no clue how my healing worked. I didn’t get uglier. I stayed as ugly as I already was.

  Reading my dismissive glare as anger, Yocto interjected, “And so you would not attack us when we got you angry enough to break the restraints that bound you.”

  “Impressive too. They told us ya were cast in some kinda super polymer. Must not’ve been all that super,” scoffed Kordeun.

  “Oh, it’s pretty super,” amended Yocto, “but it’s not enough to restrain Grak when he’s furious.”

  So, they had tricked me into getting angry to heal faster?

  The idea wasn’t half-bad.

  “Why didn’t you just heal me like at the bar?”

  “Your injuries were all internal. I tried, but it’s difficult to encourage healing when your body resists the magic. This alters the effects quite a bit.”

  “So, you brought me here to laugh at me and lock me in a cage?”

  “That’s only tha half o’ it!” laughed Kordeun. “They wanted ta study how ya heal in case they need ta make use o’ it.”

  “Or be better able to heal you in the event of another emergency.”

  “So, you locked me in a giant cast until I could break my way out. With friends like you, who needs ANGST?”

  I noticed my friends shifting somewhat uncomfortably.

  “Tha Home Guard brought ya here after yer accident, so we had little ta do with how ya were treated or where ya were taken,” Kordeun offered by way of explanation.

  “The doctors took the opportunity to study your physiology so that it could be replicated for other patients while you were under,” said Yocto, “so your loss could be everyone’s gain.”

  “I’ll want a residual on everyone I help heal,” I grumbled.

  “I’m sure that can be arranged,” said Yocto with an encouraging smile. “Once tha docs got ya stabilized, they realized ya were healin’ just fine and did not need their intervention. Our teasin’ just helped polish tha last bits o’ injury off.”

  A little guiltily, Kordeun added, “After tha Guard told us ya were here and we came over, we were actually tha ones who told ’em ya’d heal even faster if you were angry.”

  Ahh…blown up by enemies. Set up by friends.

  There’s nothing like being taunted out of love.

  I sighed. “I suppose that’s better than being left in the rubble or still being locked in the dungeon.”

  “Tell us what happened,” urged Yocto, eager to change the subject.

  I nodded. “I suppose those gnomes didn’t want me to go to the bathroom. When I tried, I was ported into the basement of their hideout.

  “Their place wasn’t much to speak of other than dirty. I was teleported directly into manacles so I couldn’t escape.

  “Using my guile and winning personality, I got the gnomes to throw a welcoming party for me. The gnomes were kind enough to try to blow me up, but all they managed to do was blast away the wall holding me in place.”

  I held up my wrists, still bound in the silvery metal manacles. “After I showed them what I thought of being jailed, I rummaged through their house but didn’t find anything of interest.

  “When I tried to leave, the building detonated. I blasted off into the chamber like last year’s fireworks.

  “The good ones.”

  Kordeun stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘D’ya think that was all of ’em?”

  I grimaced. “No. I think that’s just where a few of them lived and hung out.”

  “Any idea where the rest might be?” asked Yocto.

  I shrugged. “I was hoping the Home Guard would find something out after I called them. But, given what happened, about all I could tell them was the apartment number.”

  “And what was that?” asked Yocto, curiously interested in something trivial.

  “Negative 3.14 with some extra numbers I can’t remember.”

  “They are anti-pi,” Yocto whispered thoughtfully but with a touch of disbelief.

  I scoffed, “They were certainly not anti-pie. There were enough leftovers scattered around that home to feed an army. No pie would leave that place untouched.”

  “What’re ya mumblin’ about, Yocto?” interjected Kordeun.

  Pulled from his ruminations, Yocto answered, “Gnomish addresses often use numbers of significance—figures from natural laws or important equations. The ANGST address seems to say they are against this sentiment. But they could be against gnomish science in general.

  “The problem with conspiracies is that they can be interpreted in almost any way.”

  I pursed my lips, thinking, and ran my tongue over my prominent canines. “Do you think other gnomes in the group might have similar addresses?”

  “Couldn’t hurt to check,” Yocto answered with an assenting nod.

  Addressing the air, he said, “Construct, please display all addresses with negative numbers within Alyon.”

  A three-dimensional visualization of the city and its numerous districts appeared in the air. Glinting wickedly like flecks of sharp shattered glass sparkling on the ground in the sunlight waiting to cut bare feet, several locations shone in the air.

  “Construct, please pass this information about possible suspects on to the Home Guard.”

  “Looks like we have a few addresses to visit,” I growled, not disappointedly.

  36

  Doctor Ilynea returned, opening the door with a gen
tle knock, flooding the room with light.

  I blinked, thinking she had turned on another overhead light when she came in, only to realize the brightness was her halo.

  She must’ve been set to dim before.

  Eyes watering, I took in her resplendence while she wrote notes in the air with a stylus.

  I was alone. Kordeun and Yocto had gone to the cafeteria to look for lunch. In their absence, the room had cleaned itself up quite nicely. All remnants of the shattered ceramic polymer that had once encased me were gone.

  The floor was cleaner than the bed I was sitting on.

  “Are you feeling better now, Grak?”

  “Can’t say I ever felt bad, Doc. At least not while I was here.”

  If I had, I wouldn’t know it, since I had been unconscious.

  She smiled. Arcing lasers of brightness smashed into my eyeballs with the force of crashing meteorites.

  Trying not to sound too unappreciative, I said, “Could you turn it down, Doc? Your glow is about to make me melt. Then I’d have to be readmitted.”

  She laughed, the sound filling the room with a heavenly chorus. Thankfully, her radiance lessened.

  “You are free to go anytime, Grak. You are the epitome of health.”

  I had never been the epitome of anything.

  Okay, that’s not entirely true. I have never been the epitome of anything positive or useful.

  “A drone will be by shortly to see you out.

  “Try not to come back to see us soon.” Her smile once again sent great surging solar flares lashing viciously across my vision.

  “Gladly, Doc. Any place that keeps me away from the bar is somewhere I would prefer not to be.”

  She did not share in my laugh. In fact, she scowled disapprovingly at me. I felt the room chill and dim. I looked around, expecting thunder.

  “You need to take better care of yourself, Grak. You have much to offer, but you have to be alive to do it.”

  It wasn’t every day I was lectured by an angel.

  I really couldn’t argue with her.

  Plus, I didn’t want to be smote by a lightning bolt.

  “I’ll try. I promise,” I said.

  Did Orthanq serve juice?

  Her remonstration was not quite done. “See to it, or you will see me again without visiting the hospital.” Her aura flashed an ominous cast that sank the room into half-light and set my heart aquiver with fear of the wrath of the divine.

  Talk about bedside manner.

  Her threats over, she smiled. The room brightened, and I picked myself up off the floor. I did not remember having made the floor’s acquaintance, but the threat of being smitten by an angel will do strange things to an orc.

  “Your visit has done us a great service, Grak. Upon detailed analysis, the Construct has determined that your healing factor could be quite useful in a significant number of cases.

  “This is but a small portion of your value. Please do your best not to throw it away.”

  Feeling chastened and worse than I had when I was entombed in the cast, I nodded.

  Now I knew why I visited doctors so infrequently.

  Even if she was right, she made me feel wrong.

  Despite this, I knew she was looking out for me, and I had to respect her for that.

  “I’ll try,” I said, and meant it.

  Maybe Orthanq had juice he could blend with alcohol.

  Her tone lightening, Ilynea said, ‘With your permission, we would like to see this technology, your technology, put to good use with our patients.”

  “I’m here to help, Doc,” I replied.

  It was true even when I didn’t really know it.

  “We will make sure you are taken care of in return.”

  Not sure exactly what that meant, I nodded.

  Free doctors’ visits I hoped not to use?

  “Do you have any questions before you go?”

  I was full of questions but was afraid of her answers.

  I shook my head. “Nothing, except how to get out.”

  “A drone will be here shortly to guide you through the discharge process. The Construct has been instructed to route your calls to me if needed.

  “If there’s nothing else, I wish you well and hope not to have to see you again.”

  I supposed there are worse ways to be told goodbye by a beautiful woman.

  Since I had never visited the hospital before, it turned out that getting out was even more difficult than getting in.

  Like epic quest level of difficult.

  When the drone finally arrived, it turned out to be just the beginning of my adventures in getting discharged.

  Yocto and Kordeun were smart enough to stay away, enjoying a nice leisurely lunch, and probably a vacation, while I signed my life away reviewing incomprehensible paperwork and technical recommendations more suitable to a research wizard than a half-rate orcish detective.

  When I had finally finished signing my soul away in blood, the drone whisked away, leading me from the room I would so fondly not remember.

  If I had not had the drone floating before me as I left the hospital room, then guiding me down the many spotless hallways of the hospital, I never would have been able to find my way out of the shimmering alabaster labyrinth.

  When I finally escaped the bowels of the hospital, I found Yocto and Kordeun lounging amongst the plush pillows and furnishings in the grandly appointed lobby, chatting happily while they snacked on the remnants of their lunch, oblivious to the endless maze lurking behind them, ready to swallow them up should they arrive unprepared.

  “’Bout time ya got here!” hollered Kordeun, his voice echoing loudly off the walls and raising the eyebrows and eyestalks of the many hospital visitors entering and exiting the facility. “They finally clear ya ta leave?”

  “I hope so, because I’m leaving regardless!”

  “Ya didn’t want ’em ta take off yer manacles?”

  As I scraped across the floor, I noticed the chains the gnomes had used to bind me were still fixed to my wrists and ankles.

  “Nah. I want you to take them off to make a belt. I’ll tell you about it as we walk.”

  A chain belt would suit my sense of style nicely.

  A detachable chain belt made of well-nigh indestructible magical metal would serve my ends even better.

  A detachable chain belt repurposed from enemies who had tried but failed to kill me would put a bounce in my step and revenge within reach.

  It’s always nice to have a backup means to smash faces.

  “Yocto, could you bring up the closest of those addresses?”

  The lobby doors opened for us as we stepped outside the hospital itself. Vehicles of every shape and sort passed by as former patients left and new ones arrived.

  The entrance to the hospital was as busy as a holiday at the market.

  Not needing any more supplies, I was ready to move on.

  As we stood beneath swaying trees, surrounded by tasteful pieces of art meant to soothe the stricken heart, an image of the city and its various districts appeared in the air before us.

  We were located roughly in the center of the valley, amidst the open woods, waterways, and boulevards that constituted Alyon’s earthbound center. Almost directly above, the skycity of Alyon proper, the original home of humanity on Unea, loomed like another sun in the sky.

  “Almost all of the addresses in question appear to be within the mountains, Grak. We can either go back to the Undercity or the Undermount to search for possible hideouts.”

  I turned to Kordeun. “Would you like to go home? You’ve been away from the Undermount for a while now.

  “I can’t say the Undercity has been particularly welcoming to us.”

  Kordeun shrugged noncommittally. “Nah. I’ll be fine whichever way we decide. No need ta do anythin’ in particular on my account.”

  I looked at Yocto. “Any preferences?”

  Yocto shook his head. “I just want to see the gnomes who give
the rest of us a bad name put away. I don’t care where we go to find them.”

  “Then, why don’t we go to the Undermount?” I asked. “There are fewer of the addresses to investigate there, so we might be able to make quicker work of the ones we find.”

  “Then, let’s be off!” Kordeun smashed a callused hand into his other palm as he took the lead toward the mountain range holding the district of the gnomes and dwarves.

  I smiled. Kordeun’s appreciation of adventure radiated from him like heat from an active volcano.

  Tall trees with incandescent boles and luminous leaves soared over the lane as we wended our way through the city toward the Undermount. Lush gardens filled with streams and statuary led off from the main path westward toward the rising mountain.

  There were no buildings to be seen, but the boulevard was buzzing with life, full of the numerous races that called Alyon home. Many of the decorative pieces of art thoughtfully arranged within the landscape were, in fact, gateways to the dwellings and businesses of those who called Center City home. Looking around, one would never guess this was one of Alyon’s most populous regions. To either side, before and behind us, looming indomitably above the canopy, the twin mountain ranges cradling Alyon were cloaked in clouds as they soared heavenward.

  “Citizens Grak, Yocto, and Kordeun!”

  I nearly leapt off the trail in my startlement at the sound of the unexpected voice.

  Who did that?

  Who just popped into the air in front of you and starting yelling?

  Bah!

  The answer was obvious when I saw it.

  What else would I expect from Dragonboy? A representation of the draconic Home Guard who had interrogated me in the King’s Crown was hovering before us on the road.

  So imposing was his virtual presence that passersby stopped to look.

  He was no less intimidating as an image.

  His nostrils flared and flames licked around his scaled lips as Dragonboy’s slitted eyes bore into us relentlessly.

  “Your intel has proven most valuable.

  “In your absence, we prepared raids on the coordinates you sent us.”

  Excellent! Our work here was done!

  “Thanks to your tip, many villainous rogues were apprehended and their bases of operations destroyed.

  “You can rest easy knowing that the worst of those cretins are no longer on Alyon.”