Majutsu-shi no Chikara loosely translates to "Sorcerer's Power"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Gauntlets and Venom
Naenia quickly lost track of fists and claws abusing her flesh, the thorough hammering of he-ork rut-sticks into her cunt or asshole -- without any semblance of preparation or concern for her comfort. A few females thrust angry fingers into her, spitting literal insults upon her as they did so. She felt her legs grow weak, the bruises clouded her mind in a fugue of pain that made her breath into shallow panting like a hound in high summer, and her eyes grew dim under heavy lids as she reached desperately for the end of it. Somewhere far off, a yellow warbler gave the last song of morning before the sun reached its height.
Inkar watched carefully. Killing the last shadow of the Betrayer was one matter... this exile, however, was not hers to kill. Not yet, if ever. Naenia had information which Inkar needed, and death would take that information from her. It amused her to watch the creature still wearing the Betrayer's skin as it mewled and grunted. Covered in spilled ork seed and filth; cut, scraped, and beaten so thoroughly that the swelling would leave her unrecognizable.
Yes.
Inkar thought to her with vicious satisfaction as Naenia's eyes fluttered closed.
"Water." Inkar barked the word loudly, but without the anger or disgust she'd worn at the start of this ritual. After the first few males had rutted their captive, more of the males and several females had found themselves lusting to be involved. They began to take turns, in threes or fours, molesting the she-ork bound to the crossed posts, and rutting each other in an orgy of contempt for the Betrayer's old power.
"We rut who we choose!" They would shout, spitting at Naenia's face.
"Inkar-Chief is strong!" and they would smear dung or piss on Naenia.
When, at last, Inkar called for a second round of water, Naenia startled awake from the cold shock dumped over her head. Icy chills shivered down her back, alerting her to so many sore, abused, and battered parts touched by the rinsing liquid. Inkar called for a third and fourth round, and Naenia wondered if the young chief meant to have her tribe begin their labors anew. The many slashes in her skin burned hotly, angry when the water coursed over; muscles blooming with fresh bruises, taut and clamoring; her hungry cunt and despoiled ass were delightfully devastated. The chill of water sluicing over her faded away in the persisting glow of sexual satisfaction long overdue.
Inkar sidled up behind her, grabbing Naenia by the forehead and pulling the bound she-ork's head back painfully to lean close to her ear. Inkar sniffed. Naenia only wheezed faintly, stars flashing and floating in her eyes. Inkar sniffed again, louder and longer than the first.
The young she-ork chief of Sidero gave a thoughtful frown and nodded her approval, releasing her grip on Naenia to let the captive sag against her bonds.
"This outsider is clean." Inkar called to her tribe, who answered with exulting howls. "Let her down."
Quickly, uluit or hatchets thunked and slashed through the coarse bindings and Naenia swayed as a reed in a wind only she could feel. She turned and made to take a step back toward the guest tent where she'd left Nurcan, but her knee buckled under her own weight and Naenia toppled helplessly into the slurried muck where she'd been bound. Struggling against the smothering stench and growing burden of her own fatigue, Naenia fought her way to her hands and knees. Crawling, sluggishly unsteady, she found dry ground several paces beyond the central clearing and slumped heedless to the earth again.
"Daft, the lot of you." Nurcan's reproving voice carried that sour human distaste that smelled more like fear and longing rather than the venomous hatred and smoke of anger so often hurled at ork custom.
She could feel the human woman searching over her with her fingers. Naenia heard the sloshing water in a bucket, and felt the gentle sting of spun wool daubing at her many wounds. The sponging-away of crusted blood and trace filth that had resisted the Sidero's rigorous dousing took long moments, and Naenia became aware of several cracked, grating bones where ribs rattled angrily with each breath.
"You watched." Naenia mumbled, though she wasn't entirely sure if she were speaking her own tongue or the human's. "Did you enjoy?"
"I heard at least one rib crack, early on." Nurcan didn't give her an answer, and her smell didn't change -- Naenia tried repeating herself.
This time, she must have used the right words, for the human's body tensed and flushed with smoky anger and sweet arousal. Naenia purred, still helplessly beaten and used, toying with the human's reactions in what little way she could. A stabbing red knife of pain opened Naenia's eyes as Nurcan's fingers found one of her loose rib fragments floating beneath the skin. She growled angrily, but didn't move.
"Alright, there's one." Nurcan sighed, wringing the cloth tiredly and mopping gently around the swelling, bruised flesh. "Let's see what I can do about that."
Nurcan's practice in healing was limited, but the lessons imparted to Damon and her own studies in the days that followed had met with great success. Having dressed more game and tended more wounds than most any of the remaining villagers of South-wold, just by dint of her age, Nurcan's knowledge of the body's inner mechanisms was more nuanced than the young wild mage. Using a small belt knife, she laid-open the skin above the fractured rib -- a rush of blood and a hiss of stifled anger from her patient fast behind the blade. Even as blood ran over her hands, Nurcan tucked a finger behind the bone and wiggled it neatly into place. Naenia gasped, shivering and her limbs twitching stiffly.
With her finger still wedged into the wound, steadying the broken bone, Nurcan's other hand danced around the space over the wound. She chanted, half nonsense and half song-like noises. The bone fused together in moments, the human yanking her hand back to clap the wound closed and repeat the process to mend the incision. Where blazing pain had been, a cool, soothing numbness settled. Naenia thought a moment how wonderful it would be to sleep after Nurcan treated the second broken rib.
Naenia's daydreaming was rudely cast aside when it became clear that the second rib was broken in at least two places. She vomited whatever had been in her stomach as Nurcan wrestled with the root of the rib near her spine. When she'd bled enough: Naenia fainted and Nurcan's work became much easier though far more urgent.
Nurcan raced her blade along the rib, knowing the she-ork could not spare the time or blood to endure further muddling-about. With the base of the rib seated and healed, Nurcan was able to quickly weave the remaining two fractures back together far more quickly as the ork's own muscles were no longer tensed around her work. When it was done, and the wounds closed, Naenia's breath was shallow but steady. Nurcan's arms and skirts were drenched in blood, for the wound she'd had to open on Naenia's back had bled mightily.
"The gods and whatever ancestors you worship have you, now." Nurcan grumbled, then looked up from where she sat.
Several orks were watching her intently, their eyes wide or narrowed with otherwise unreadable scowls twisting their faces in what could only be described as "thoughtful" to Nurcan's mind. They grunted and barked at each other in their language -- a tongue Nurcan grimaced to realize she would need to learn before much longer, if only pidgin -- before two of them (the smaller chief-kin, perhaps?) stepped forward and squatted near her.
"Shaman?" The female on Nurcan's left asked, looking over the thin black lines curling around Naenia's skin where Nurcan had cut the ork's flesh.
"I'm no shaman or wizard, no." Nurcan shook her head, carefully cleaning her knife with the cloth and bucket of water before seeing to the mess of blood up her arms. "I ken how to sew up a wound and mayhap set a bone -- a clean-broken bone, not a splintered or shattered one..."
The human harrumphed with fatigue, glancing up and seeing the orks' eyes following her mouth with severe focus.
"No." She said again. "You ken it? No, I'm not a shaman."
...
"There, see? She's no shaman." Thato motioned to her sisters. "Yet she has magic like a shaman."
"How can a shaman be not a shaman?" Nahia grumbled.
"Humans are stupid." Uduak chuckled and gave a shrug. "Eh, Muna? More stupid human talk."
"So?" Muna snorted, crossing her arms on her chest. "Inkar-Chief will seek Gharial, when this exile is awake."
"Kick her, then, and wake her." Nahia pointed. "You're so eager for swamp-water and lizard-goblins."
"Kobolds." Muna corrected, sniffing with pointed indifference. "Meat is good, little chief-kin... you would know if you ate more of it."
Nahia ignored Muna's flexing bicep and nudged Thato with her shoulder.
"Brains are good, too..." Thato smiled. "Have you eaten any?"
