The Crick In His Back

Skott sat there, being attended to by a fire brigade healer, when the Prime Ministress and her security detail arrived in the burnt-over Elvan Quarter.

“Another one? It’s just like the early reports at Crossroads Ford.”

Lamora’s rather sultry voice could be recognized by the Earthling anywhere. He got up, ignored the thunderbolt of pain scorching through his back, and waved to the Prime Ministress. The she-orc’s eyes widened when she caught sight of him.

“Skott, were you hurt by the fires?” she asked, her voice betraying her concern.

“Nah. Just the fall.” Skott hunched over. “Ah, my back is still killing me.”

“You fell?!” This failed to allay her concerns.

“Saved a kid,” he motioned to the smoldering tree-manse at his back.

“Well, how admirable of you.” Lamora smiled slightly.

“Ah.” Again, Skott’s back forced him to hobble over slowly.

“Come, let me tend to your back.” Lamora helped Skott over to a wagon full of spare firefighting supplies.

Sixteen years ago, Skott was reasonably confident he would have walked this stunt off without even a limp. In the modern day, though, he felt he was going to be wheelchair bound for a month.

Skott sat down, feeling another crippling jet of pain the length of his spine as he di so.

“Not gettin’ any younger,” Skott said morosely.

“Hold still.” Lamora cracked her knuckles. She muttered out a half-prayer, half-magic incantation, and her healing magic-infused fingers promptly kneaded into Skott’s back.

“Ah. Well, feels as good as I remember,” he managed.

Tension and that crippling pain fled in the wake of Lamora’s magic fingers.

“You could have stayed in the diplomatic hotel,” Lamora said.

As the Prime Minister of these lands, Lamora occasionally had to break off the massage to point out some administrative duty or another.

“Fall really screwed up my tailbone,” Skott said.

“Do humans have… tails?” Lamora cocked her head

“It’s complicated,” Skott answered. “Just, at the base of the back.”

Lamora did so, her basic healing magic repairing the damage of (relatively) old age and a fall-breaking impact to his back muscles.

“Ah, feeling better already.” Skott sighed. “So, how far can a flame spell hit a target?”

“Combustion spells? Anywhere within visual range.”

Skott whistled. On the open plains here, line of sight stretches for quite possibly hundreds of miles.

“Attackers could have hit from anywhere then. It’s a miracle they’re not setting these fires every day.”

Lamora nodded. “You suspect Redeemer activity?”

Skott went ahead and explained his working theories to the Prime MInistress. She moved up to his shoulders as he talked. By the time he was done theorizing, Skott’s debilitating back pain was entirely gone.

“Much better,” he declared.

With the fires extinguished and the authorities having the situation on lockdown, Skott accepted an escort back to the diplomatic quarter. The P.M’s retinue was heading that direction anyways.

“Hey, Lamora, put up some scouts on the outskirts of town,” Skott said. “Spotters. If anyone specializes in detecting magic—”

“As a matter of fact, we have a survey corps dedicated to that very skill.”

“Well, you’ve been busy,” Skott said with a smile. “Have them look for any spells cast out on the plains. I suspect they’ll be done for the night, though.”

Skott duly noticed that Lamora had called her bodyguard retinue back a bit so she and the outworlder had some space.

“The fire brigades tell me you saved a child,” Lamora said.

“Phsaw, it was nothing.” Skott rubbed the back of his head in a bashful, non-committal gesture.

“The great hero from the other world is good with kids,” Lamora smiled.

Skott’s heart fluttered. He supposed he was. That just made it worse that he’d gone half a lifetime without being here for theirs. His cheeks flushed, though orcs seldom noticed the particulars of human blushing mechanics.

The pair arrived at the diplomatic hotel.

“Soooo, this is my stop,” Skott said.

“I’ll be at the legislative palace if you need anything,” Lamora said, lingering a little closer than typical.

“I, ah, I’ll be fine for now. See you tomorrow?”

“But of course.” Lamor’s incisors retracted, a sign of general contentment. “If you can meet us at the legislature first thing tomorrow, Lucy has an idea for steps we could take to counteract this latest uptick in violence.”

“Sure thing.” Skott nodded.

“And Skott?” Lamora paused for effect.

“Hmm?” He tilted his head.

“It is nice to have you back.”

The statesewomanly orc called her bodyguards over and the entire group walked back towards the governmental ward. Skott was left outside the diplomatic hotel, thinking about the night’s events.

“Bah, if there’d been a way to stay here…” he managed eventually, but left the sentence unfinished.

His and Lamora’s judgement hadn’t changed: it was for the best to have returned to Earth, at least at the time. In hindsight, however, maybe there’d been another way? Consistent portals between worlds were evidently possible. Maybe if he’d spent another month or two at the mage’s tower, they could’ve had an early breakthrough… would have helped the mages to have a test subject with experience in portal hopping, after all.

This was an unlikely occurrence; it had taken fifteen-odd years to perfect portal magic in his absence. Surely he couldn’t count on a lucky breakthrough in a fraction of the time.

Skott stepped into the building and returned to his room to get whatever sleep he could this night.

+++

He got a few hours of sleep. Mercifully, Skott was a light sleeper. He was ready to go with the dawn. Rapidly rising humidity in this strange land was a heck of an alarm clock.

Those rucksacks he’d taken with him to the new world contained a change of clothes. He’d had limited experience with Aeirun laundry services on his first trip, having arrived with just the clothes on his back. He hoped they’d be able to launder his Earth garments at some point during his stay.

Skott stepped out of the diplomatic inn and immediately encountered a coalition regiment marching in organized lines towards the pyramidal parliament building. They weren’t in a hurry, merely marching to a muster area. Skott followed at a fair distance. He was, technically, the founding father of the coalition army, and just wanted to see if Lamora took any of the half-baked organizing principles he’d gleamed from Earth movies to heart.

And so, Skott followed this line of marching soldiers to a makeshift camp, where Lamora and Lucy awaited…