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Mara again heard distant, guttural voices from somewhere around her. Slowly, she gained back her senses. She felt heat near her, warming her face and one side of her body whilst cold enveloped her other side. She could smell the familiar stink she had experienced on the battlefield as well as the smell of burning wood. Her mouth was dry. Her head ached; she felt her brow cringe at the pain. She wanted to move her limbs but stopped herself at the increasing volume of the guttural voices around her. Her eyelids opened slightly to blurry vision; a great light before her, likely a campfire. Unless her ears deceived her, the voices came from beyond it. She opened her eyes slightly more. Her vision beginning to clear. She saw two large, green figures sitting beyond what was now clearly a campfire, their movements seemed to coincide with the voices.
Though fear gripped her, she forced herself to remain calm and motionless until she could feel the life returning to her body. Dried blood clung to her, making her itch. She felt the pain and stiffness of over-use in her limbs, but at least she could feel them. Her body screamed to move, yet remained still, not wanting to alert the orcs to her being awake until she knew well who and what surrounded her. Subtly, she moved her right arm, the one enveloped by cold, searching. Her hand found rough tree bark. A fallen log, perhaps, but not her staff and certainly nothing she could wield. She allowed her eyes to look around in their limited vision. She could not see her staff. She could not risk moving more, not with her enemies so close. She listened intently but only heard the two voices for some long moments. She then heard footsteps approach her and saw a shadow move between her and the fire. She felt a large hand touch the back of her head and knew she could wait no longer.
Instantly, she reached up with both hands and gripped the thick wrist of her assaulter, almost simultaneously raising her left leg, her foot making contact on what felt like the monster’s jaw. She heard a grunt and released the hand as she leapt to her feet. Her eyes now wide open and her hands balled into fists, she swung around to deliver a backhanded strike to her target’s face. Her attack was halted by a large hand catching her wrist in mid swing. She began to raise her knee towards the back of the figure’s head but stopped in mid-motion as her eyes viewed Gash squatting on the ground before her. His hand held her wrist in a loose grip as his eyes stared sideways at her through his usual deep scowl.
Mara’s eyes went wide and she backed up a step.
“Forgive me, I…” she began but ceased at the thought of the two figures sitting beyond the fire. She turned her head to see two orcs now standing, staring at her. Instantly, she went into a defensive stance, readying herself to fight.
“They will not harm,” Gash said, rubbing his jaw.
Mara glanced to Gash and then back to the orcs who stood staring at her, themselves ready to engage her in battle. Mara lowered her arms and the orcs seemed to relax. Gash merely sat rubbing his jaw. Mara looked back at him and rushed over to him.
“Gash, forgive me,” she said before backing away again and bowing her face to the dirt.
“Please forgive me, Dugan-to,” she continued. “I have greatly dishonored you and spat on your gift with my actions. Please forgive me. I…I cannot think of how I might undo what I have done, but you have but to command me and I shall do as you say.”
Gash merely rubbed his jaw.
“There is no blood,” he replied.
From her place on the ground, Mara raised her head to look at him.
“Drink,” he said, moving to sit on a felled log.
Mara looked to see a water skin lying on the ground between them. Cautiously, looking back to Gash, she took the water skin and began to drink. She downed a few gulps as she moved to a squatting position and then looked suspiciously to the orcs who again sat chatting on the other side of the campfire. Mara wiped the water from her chin and, without shifting her gaze, moved to sit next to Gash. She took another swig from the water skin and then replaced the cork as she continued to observe the conversive orcs. She wondered at their guttural tongue, wishing she could understand it.
“Gash, what is going on?” she said in quiet tones.
Gash had been poking the fire with a stick, his mind hanging partially in deep thought.
“My clan,” he replied, nodding in their direction. “They followed and fought. Now they serve.”
Mara looked to him.
“You must explain to me more than that, Gash.”
“I explain, G’uar?”
Mara turned to see what she guessed to be a female of the orcs standing over her, the only clue that she was a female being her covered chest. Mara turned to Gash and saw him nod to the female who then nodded back and sat down beside Mara.
Mara scooted closer to Gash, partly out of fear and partly because the orc-woman was simply so large. Mara found her strange as she looked upon her. She did not have the usual stink Mara had smelled from the rest of the orcs. Her hair was wet and it seemed as if she had just bathed. Her body was shaped just the same as the males’, save her chest, and she was just as muscular. Her face, though still quite feral had a softness to it that almost matched the humanity in Gash’s. Her eyes were clear, the centers in shades of dark hazel that reflected the firelight as they set themselves on Mara’s comparatively diminutive form.
“My name Trogla,” she began in a rough voice that seemed to Mara to be laced with some hidden beauty. “We Gash’s clan. We follow him when he leave and find him when you fight other orcs. We help when we see him fight.”
Mara rubbed the back of her head in annoyance. The throbbing was still there and she could feel a lump. At least her cold seemed to have cleared up.
“That is strange,” she said looking to Gash. “Gash told me he did not know where he was from.”
Gash looked to see Mara’s accusing stare.
“You not tell her, G’uar?” Trogla’s voice came.
Gash merely shook his head at the female. Mara felt a large hand on her shoulder and turned to face Trogla as she continued.
“Gash not from our clan, but at same time, from our clan.”
Mara cocked an eyebrow.
“He not born in clan,” Trogla continued. “I not know where he from, but I hear other orc call him Gurak’s trophy. Gurak was G’uar; leader of clan. Gash Gurak’s prisoner for long time and clan slave long time after that.”
Her tone became more somber as she continued her tale.
“Gurak treat him bad, so we treat him bad. Gurak do worst, but we guilty too. He hate Gash worse than us. But we get bored with Gash and leave him alone except tell him what to do.”
Mara looked to Gash who sat staring into the fire, his mind seemingly heavy in thought. She then looked back to Trogla.
“Was it because Gash is un-orc?” she asked.
The female looked at her in surprise.
“You know of un-orc?” she asked her.
“Gash told me he is a half-blood and an un-orc. He said that the strong are worthy of honor, the weak worthy of death, and the un-orc worthy of nothing.”
At the term, “half-blood” Trogla turned her face to the ground, closed her eyes, and put her head in her hand.
“That our fault,” she said, finally, lifting her head from her hand. “We call him half-blood to hurt him cause we think he…dirty. He have un-orc blood, so he un-orc to us.”
One of the males suddenly stood and began shouting at them in orcish. The female did not respond in kind but waited until he had finished to give a soft reply in the same language.
“Speak common,” Gash directed them.
The male looked at Gash and then resumed his seat.
“They angry,” Trogla explained to Mara. “They think I call Gash un-orc again. He our leader. It un-right to call him un-orc.”
“Why?” Mara asked, crossing her arms. “He was un-orc before, why should there be any difference now?”
Mara was indignant. She didn’t approve of anyone being treated so but took it as a personal insult when the o
ffense was against someone she considered to be a friend. Trogla seemed equally incensed. Her scowl became deeper. Her hands became fists and were shaking.
“We wrong. We see that now,” she told Mara through clenched teeth.
She looked at Mara then, a look on her face as though she were about to strike her. Mara tensed, ready to react, her face in a scowl of her own. Trogla then looked briefly to Gash and then turned to stare back into the fire. The two sat in silence as Trogla allowed her anger to cool, blowing strong breaths out through her nostrils. At last, her breathing slowed and her fists unclenched.
“It strange,” she continued, her voice gaining less and less edge as she spoke. “All our lives, we taught un-orcs nothing; not worthy of death. Then un-orc become our leader, then leave. Then we find him and he fight alongside un-orc against orc. And Gash tell us not to harm you and that you worthy of great honor. But you un-orc and we not understand.”
Trogla looked to Mara.
“Me want strike you for what you say,” she said. “But Gash our G’uar. We do what he say. He stronger than any orc we know and…better. But still, but not…un-orc…”
She trailed off as she visibly tried to work out the problem in her mind. Eventually, her eyes re-focused on Mara and she asked, “You explain?”
At this, Mara could not help but relent a little her indignation. She began to see Trogla not as a cold, bloodthirsty orc, but one ignorant of any ways that did not belong to her clan. This Mara could sympathize with all too well and she found her indignation falling away. She looked to the ground, remembering her own grief and confusion, and shook her head.
“I could not begin to, Trogla,” Mara told her. “I do not know the ways of your clan well enough. I am sorry.”
Trogla looked back to the ground a moment in frustration, but then back to Mara.
“Why you say sorry?” she asked. “You not do offense to kill.”
Mara just shook her head, holding up a hand.
“Never mind,” she said looking at her. “Tell me why do you call on Gash as your leader? I thought your other leader hated him.”
“Gash kill Gurak during test,” Trogla explained. “Gash take test to become orc. Because he in clan, he still get test, even though we think him un-orc. Gash take test greater than Gurak and pass. Gurak not allowed to lead after that. He try to kill Gash. But Gash too strong!”
She spoke the last of the sentence with a smile, a raised voice, and a triumphant fist, prompting shouts of praise from the two males.
“Gash kill Gurak for evil,” she continued. “But spare us…I know not why. But he not want us for clan because we treat him bad. He spit at us and leave. Plainsman pray and gods heal Gash’s wound.”
“God,” Gash corrected her.
Trogla nodded.
“God,” she echoed him. “Gash still leave. We left with no leader. Don’t know what to do. Some follow Gurak sons. Some go home to Northlands. We sit for days not knowing. Finally, H’ruk say Gash our G’uar, so he follow Gash. We say we follow too. Grak track and we follow him to army tracks. We follow army to cage. From cage, we track to battle. When we see you, Gash, and army fighting orcs, we come to help.”
Mara looked at the two males and then back to the female.
“Just three of you?” she asked in surprise.
The female just shrugged.
“Gash our G’uar,” she replied. “We follow him no matter what. We not afraid. If we afraid, then we weak and deserve death.”
Mara cocked an eyebrow, not only at the conflicting nature of the female’s philosophy on fear but also on the fact that it seemed these three shared Gash’s insanity at facing a horde of rampaging orcs that far outnumbered them simply on principle.
“So…” Mara replied, “how is it that we are still alive?”
“That what we not figure out,” Trogla said. “There only three of us, like you say. There were many more orc. We say Gash so strong he make all other orcs weak and we live cause we fight with him. But he say not him, but Godking only strong enough to save by few. We not understand. We orc think we strong. But he say no orc strong enough to do what we did. Only gods that strong. And we not gods.”
The female then regarded Mara with a slight look of fear.
“Are you god?”
Mara could not help but let out a belt of laughter. Trogla leaned back in surprise and glanced at H’ruk and Grak who seemed equally befuddled and intrigued.
“No,” Mara finally replied, still giggling.
Trogla seemed to be more disappointed then relieved.
“Then I not know,” she admitted. “We survive. You survive. Gash survive. Even some humuns survive.”
The female then gestured to her right. Mara looked over to see a small number of knights gathered around another fire.
“But all orcs dead,” the female continued looking back at Mara with slight fear. “All they orcs not all be that weak. We never hear of thing like this. You hear of this before?”
Mara shook her head.
“So strange,” the female pondered. “But maybe it like Gash say.”
She gestured at Gash who still sat staring at the flames, nearly oblivious to the conversation going on around him. His mind replayed, again and again, the battle and that which transpired immediately afterwards. He remembered the pain he felt when he slew the orcs and pondered upon it. He knew it to be right, he’d had no choice. The knights, for all their wrongs against him, were an honorable people. The orcs…he knew them well. At least, he thought so. But the presence of these three seemed to confuse the matter in his mind, though they had shown little indication that they were any different.
He wondered on Lilliandra and what she would have to say about this. Were the knights the “many” that would need his help? Perhaps it was those who had come from his tribe. But what could he do for them but show them the way? And the way to what? To not being an orc? Such a thing seemed as impossible as it was ridiculous. Then what? To the Godking? He did not understand Him himself, yet his thoughts kept turning to Him whenever he contemplated a thing. And Marian spoke openly and fervently of Him. But now she was gone and he knew not if he would see her again. Yet, he himself had chosen to believe that the Godking could save by many or by few. Indeed He had and in a way that Gash had not expected.
All of these things ran circles in Gash’s mind. While he found some solace in the quiet of thought, he found no solid answers, and the questions seemed to stab at him. So distracted was he that he did not notice Mara calling his name until she waved a hand in front of his face, breaking his train of thought. He looked over at her.
“What were you thinking of?” she asked.
“Many things,” was his answer.
“You must think of many things often,” Mara replied. “I have never met someone so lost in thought as you. I need to speak with you. May we walk together?”
Gash nodded.
“Where is my staff?”
Gash reached to the far side of the log and produced it. Mara took it and the two stood and walked away from the group, into the cooler darkness of night. It was not until they were a good distance away that Mara glanced back and finally spoke.
“Gash, forgive me,” she said. “But I do not like these of your supposed kindred coming along with us. Trogla is willing to talk well enough, but she has a great rage within her. She is too eager to kill and she has the same dislike for anything that is not orc as other orcs you have described to me. And I cannot say I believe what she says of what happened during the battle-“
“Do not doubt,” Gash calmly cut in. “She cannot lie.”
Gash couldn’t tell, but he thought Mara turned to stare at him.
“What?” she questioned.
“Orc women cannot lie,” Gash explained. “And they cannot keep silent if they hear someone else tell a lie. It is impossible.”
“That sounds impossible,” Mara retorted. “You are telling me that an orc…female cannot say anything but what they
know or believe to be true?”
“Yes,” Gash replied.
Mara put her hands on her head. It was still throbbing and all of this was making it worse.
“I cannot believe all of this,” she muttered. “I still do not like these orcs coming with us. They seem too much like what you described to me. I do not trust them.”
“I do not trust them either,” Gash replied. “But they have sworn loyalty to me. They will not attack me without first challenging me. To do otherwise would risk appearing weak to the others. And that, they will not do.”
“And what of me? Will they attack me?”
Gash was silent. Fear rose within him for Mara’s safety.
“I have told them-“
“I know what you have told them, Gash!” Mara almost shouted at him, before returning to quieter tones. “But they are confused and treacherous if they are anything like the rest of your clan. And I will be seen as easy prey if you are out of the way for but a short time.”
Gash swallowed. He had not meant to put Mara in this position. Had he then been wrong to accept Trogla and the rest? His mind was suddenly heavy with the responsibility of Mara’s safety.
“If they touch you, I will kill them,” he said, unable to think of anything else.
“Chst. That is of little comfort,” she mocked. “They will be dead, but I will be too if I am not raped first. I suppose I should be thankful there are only three of them and one is a female. I could probably take on the two males if I am fast enough. If all three rush me, however-“
“I am sorry,” Gash cut in. “I should not have brought them. Forgive me.”
Mara breathed out a hard breath.
“No,” she said finally. “You did what was right. I just do not like our circumstances. Just keep your eyes open and your blade close. And watch out for me. I am not some helpless grilga, but I do not wish to be slain in my sleep.”
Half-Orc Redemption Page 16
