Everyone rushed to his side, Luna forcing her way through the crowd, ordering all to step back. From their vantage point, Gash could see the boy lying on the ground, his arm bent into a strange angle. Luna spoke gentle words to him as she stroked his face. She then spoke to another orc and pointed to the boy’s arm. Grunk joined him then and took his good arm, holding it tightly but saying nothing. The adult orc Luna had spoken to gently took hold of the orcling’s arm and suddenly jerked it straight. A crack was heard and the orcling yelled in pain. Luna then proceeded to splint the break. Two of the adults then carried the youth away, Grunk walking alongside, still holding the youth’s arm.
Lilliandra turned to Gash.
“Tell me what you have seen in these orcs that is liken to what you have known.”
Gash stood staring at the camp in awe and wonderment. Such honor he had never seen amongst his kin. He could not reconcile it. They were orcs. They were noble. He had no answer.
“You must realize and reconcile this, Gash: you are a half-orc. You needn’t side with man, nor curse the blood of orcs. There is great evil on both sides, but there are also those who seek truth and righteousness. And if they bow their knees to the Godking, he changes their hearts and the evil is slowly erased. Nevertheless, the evil that is in them is also in you. Orc. Human. It does not matter. All have turned aside and seek their own way. And you are no exception. You must settle this and accept it in your heart. You must turn from your ways and choose not to hate. If you do not, you will never be able to forgive H’ruk and the others, nor any orc you come across. Your blade will go before your conscience. And the end is death.”
Gash said nothing. He merely stood staring at the encampment of peaceful orcs, his soul raging inside of him, fighting against truth and right.
“Come,” Lilliandra told him. “We have tarried here too long.”
She then turned, briefly placing a hand on Gash’s arm, and walked back into the forest. Gash breathed out a breath. He knew her words to be true. More than ever now, he knew her to be who she claimed. His heart was filled with the pain of the reality of his heart. But it was clearer, and for that he was glad. It was a difficult path, but one that he knew he needed to follow lest he give himself up to death. Turning, he followed Lilliandra back into the thick trees, not noticing the human Luna turning to look longingly upon the cliff whence they had stood.
**********
When they had returned to the hilltop, the morning seemed to Gash to have run slightly backwards. The morning sun was just cresting the North River Mountains, shedding light upon the empty campground where he had left Mara and the three orcs.
“They have gone to look for you.”
Gash turned to Lilliandra. Her hair of nearly invisible blonde blew gently in the breeze as her emerald eyes stared up at him.
“Will you speak to me again?” he asked of her.
She nodded.
“As you request,” she said. “Before you go, I must tell you. The orc army works even now to level a path through the Dry Hills. Despite the desert climate, they will succeed and soon make it to more fertile soil. Your shouts did not go unheard. A party of warriors follows you. Do not engage them. Instead, head further south to the Maw. In the snowy peaks you will be able to lose them. But be aware. In your midst is one who would betray you.”
She then looked to the campground. Gash followed her gaze to see Trogla there, staring up at them. He looked back to Lilliandra.
“Her?” he asked.
“I do not know,” she replied. “But know that seeing us does not bode well in her heart.”
Gash again looked to Trogla. The female orc stared up at them unceasingly. Here was his first test. He immediately headed towards the campground, but stopped in mid-stride and turned.
“Thank you,” he said.
Lilliandra smiled and Gash turned and continued down the ridge.
He emerged atop the other hill to find Trogla still standing in her same spot.
“Gash!”
Gash looked to see Mara running up to them.
“H’ruk, Grak! I have found him!” she shouted. “Where did you go to? We have looked for you for hours- Who is that?”
Gash looked back to see Lilliandra still standing atop the distant ridge, looking down at them. Slowly, she turned and walked out of sight. Gash turned back to Mara.
“It is Lilliandra,” he told her.
Mara’s face melted into shock. She looked from Gash to the now empty hilltop. Without a word, she began climbing down as quickly as she could.
Gash called after her, but she did not answer him. Instead, her voice rang out towards Lilliandra, pleading with her to wait.
“She not ugly,” Trogla muttered, grabbing Gash’s attention.
“Say again,” Gash instructed her.
“White elf with leaves you speak with,” Trogla stated, turning her head to face him. Gash could see that her eyes were wet. “She like shining jewel. We like slime. She not ugly like us. That why you leave us. You talk with her because she not ugly. Speak truth, G’uar. Me know you not care about orc ways. So me challenge if you not speak truth. Lie worse that weak. Speak truth, or me challenge.”
Gash stared at her and saw clearly the pain of rejection in her eyes. He knew it all too well and could not bear to hold her gaze. He turned his head to the side and stared at the ground as his thoughts battled with his emotions and prejudices. As always, Lilliandra had spoken the truth. And for the first time, Gash began to see the ugliness that existed inside of his own soul.
“Ten summers I work and suffer and hate,” he said finally. “All that time I was alone and angry. Now I still angry. I think not alone because of Mara, Lilliandra, and Marian. But I still feel alone because I am still angry.”
He looked at her then as he continued.
“There is still blood between us,” he said. “But you did what you should to erase blood. I did not. You are not ugly, Trogla. I am. It will be long time until ugliness is gone.”
Trogla stared, gape-mouthed at her leader. Such honesty and honor, she had never encountered from any, much less so from an orc. She stood speechless, staring at him for long moments. At last, she turned to fully face him. Raising her left arm, she made a fist and put it across the top of her chest. With her right arm, she crossed her belly. She then bowed her head, kneeled and began to speak in a form of orcish that Gash had never heard. She then fell silent and still. After a moment of looking upon this strange scene, Gash asked her, “What you do?”
“You not know this?” Trogla asked him without looking up.
“Never.”
“Old ones teach me this when I child. They say it very old, even to their old ones. It mean if I ever betray you or not do as I now say, I cut myself with own sword across chest and across belly and cut off leg. They say not do it unless complete sure of own…”
She struggled a moment, trying to find the word in the common tongue. Unable to find it, she continued, still speaking in common.
“I not know word. To never leave.”
“What words you speak?”
“Old ones tell me it mean: ‘Not make me leave you, or turn back from follow you; for wherever you go, I go; and wherever you stay, I stay; your people be my people, and your god, my god. Where you die, I die, and there I be buried. Ulah do so to me, and more also, if any but death part you and me.’ I also not speak orc again because you despise speak it.”
Gash stared at her.
“You must tell me rise or tell me no,” Trogla stated.
“Rise. I accept.”
Trogla stood, what passed for an orc smile on her face. Hesitantly, Gash nodded.
“Who this Ulah?” he asked.
“Not know,” Trogla replied. “Old orcish word even old ones not know. Whoever he be, must be very strong and see all.”
Gash nodded thoughtfully.
“Do not stop speak orc if you want,” he told her. “It not my language, but it is yours.”
“Gash!”
Gash looked behind him.
“They are coming! Run!” Mara shouted as she ran towards them, and Gash saw cresting the hill behind her a horde of orcs.
“Go!” he ordered Trogla and then turned to run. Mara caught up quickly and the group encountered H’ruk and Grak who also fled. Though H’ruk was against the matter, he knew he could not face the horde alone and so conceded.
“G’uar!” he shouted in orcish as they scrambled down the hill. “The Northlands are full of forests and hills! These fools will not be able to run as well on open ground!”
“Go!” Gash shouted back in common. “Off the hills!”
“G’uar, wait!” Trogla interjected. “What of Mah-rah?”
“Do not worry for me!” Mara shouted back, nimbly leaping down behind them, “I will keep up! Just go!”
The four orcs broke into a run as soon as their feet hit the open ground. Mara was indeed able to keep up as she too had been raised in a land of open plains. The five of them ran on with all the strength they had pumping through their legs. Almost immediately, they began to make headway, distancing themselves against the orcs who were swarming down the hills after them like a flood of death.
XVII. Snow Place
The party ran on until they reached the Mountains of Karas-Cair which seemed to happen far sooner than they would have expected. Grak spotted what looked like an open passageway leading into the mountainside. The orcish army far behind them, but still visible as a distant cloud of dust, the party made for the opening. Mara was the last to enter and immediately turned and looked back out into the open world as Gash and H’ruk moved the large stone sitting beside the entry way back into its place and darkness enveloped them.
They stood there in the darkness, the only sound being the heavy breathing of the group. After only a moment, H’ruk spoke.
“That will not hold them,” he said.
“This cave looks as the others,” Grak replied. “If it is dwarven, it will be hidden from their sight.”
“We cannot wait for them to leave. They will leave sentries behind to watch for us. We will run out of food before they leave.”
“Then let us be out of here and quickly,” came Mara’s voice in the blackness. She suddenly felt cold.
Without a word, Gash moved past the others and began to walk. The others followed. At the sound of the footsteps, Mara panicked.
“Wait!” she shouted. The four orcs turned to look at the panick-stricken human.
“I cannot see in the darkness,” she said. “I…I need someone to guide me.”
A set of footsteps came near her and she heard Trogla’s voice.
“Place hand on arm, Mah-rah,” she told her kindly. “I be your guide.”
Mara reached out and found Trogla’s thick arm, gripping it with almost a deathgrip. The party turned and continued walking. Gash walked ahead of them, his arms outstretched, the fingers of one hand running lightly along the wall to guide him, the other hand held in front of him to feel for a door or wall that might come suddenly upon him. H’ruk looked to Grak who returned his glance. But neither said a word. They merely followed in silence.
Trogla felt the tight grip Mara held and could not restrain her tongue.
“You not like darkness Mah-rah?” she asked.
“It is not the just darkness that bothers me,” Mara replied. “It is being shut in like this. I am used to being outdoors. Even our tents have holes in the tops. But there is no where in this place where I can see the sky, or smell the air. This air is…old.”
“’Old air hides many secrets’, old ones used to say,” Trogla replied.
“As long as it does not hide the way out. These tunnels are for rocks and darkness and the people of them. They are not for me.”
The two followed in silence behind the rest of the group as they traveled on. They walked the dark road for some time. Gash noted how the road was curving and held a decent grade. The further they traveled, the more Gash wondered where they would end up. At last the path ended at what Gash guessed to be a door. Etchings ran horizontal across the face and a single, straight crack ran down the center. Bracing his hands against it, Gash pushed as hard as he could. The door did not move. H’ruk and Grak moved to help and together they pushed. But still, the door would not open.
“Wait,” came Trogla’s voice.
Everyone stopped pushing and listened.
“There writing there. It orcish,” she said.
“Orcs not have writing,” H’ruk protested.
“Not more any,” Trogla replied, moving closer to read the writing. “I think it say, ‘Not…pass.’”
“Not pass?” H’ruk repeated. “Why it say that?”
“I not know,” Trogla responded derisively. “I not write it.”
“It barrier,” Grak said. “It written in old orcish so only we read. It tell us we not pass. It mean orc not pass. They think they stop us.”
“Then they fools!” H’ruk shouted and resumed pushing on the door.
Gash joined him as did Grak and Trogla. Desperate to get out, Mara too lent her strength. At first, the result was the same. But then a loud crack was heard from the other side of the door. Another sounded and the five redoubled their efforts. Several more cracks were heard and the more that were heard, the more sounded, until a rapid series of cracks stung the party’s ears as the door finally gave way and broke from its frame. The massive stone door began to slide from its cavernous housing and the five felt cold air rushing into the chamber. At last they ceased their efforts. Mara was the first to slip through the thin opening. She found herself in a large, stone chamber. Silvery moonlight and frigid mountain air flooded in through an open doorway on one end and a small window on the other.
Mara breathed in the fresh air, despite its chill as the others emerged. She was so relieved she almost began to cry. Gash emerged last and looked upon the door they had forced open. The moonlight revealed its form to be at least four feet thick. The face was covered from to top to bottom with now broken stone bars, their remains still held in place upon the walls on either side of the passageway or laying in pieces on the stone floor. Gash stared upon it, realizing the potential of the strength of an orc and a sense of dread haunted his thoughts.
“This cold better than tunnel, Mah-rah?” Trogla asked, her breath visible even in the dark.
“It is not my first choice of places,” Mara shivered. “But I would rather be in here than in there.”
Grak moved to the door and looked out.
“Storm coming,” he said.
“We stay here tonight. Leave in the morning,” Gash instructed. “Help me move door.”
The three males gathered around the door and slowly pushed it so that it blocked the doorway that led outside. Mara dug in her pack and pulled out a set of furs consisting of a shawl, leggings, arm wraps, and a skirt and donned them while the orcs with their thick skin simply ignored the cold.
Tired from their lengthened flight and climb, the five of them gathered in a corner of the snow-filled chamber and lay down to sleep. They kept close to conserve their body heat and, due to exhaustion, did not wake till morning.
Mara woke first. Though the sun shone in bright through the window, the others slept soundly. She discovered that she was quite warm and noticed Gash’s arm wrapped around her. He had insisted that she be at the center as she was the smallest and would need the heat from the others to stay warm. Gently moving Gash’s arm off of her, Mara sat up and picked the crust from the corners of her eyes. She was comfortable and could have slept another few hours. Having spent so much time with the orcs, she was for the most part, comfortable with them, particularly with Gash and Trogla present. She had even gotten used to the smell.
From her spot on the floor, she looked around the chamber they entered the night before. There was little to look at. It was a stone chamber large enough to hold ten or so large men tightly packed. There was the door now blocked by the slab of stone, the passage
way that led back towards the Dry Hills, and the single window that faced north.
Standing up, Mara walked over to the window and peered out. The window was perfect in its placement and the teenaged girl needed neither to stoop nor stretch to look out. The morning air was still and cold. It chilled her face, waking her fully. The sky was free of snow, though not of clouds, and the light was a pale gray upon the mountainside. Her eyes searched and she saw in the distance, the Dry Hills extending in a long train to the north. To its east was open prairie fading into forest. To its west were the ravaged Northlands. She could make no distinction between it and the barren land of the Dry Hills. Far in the distance, she could see the Bent Mountain resting at the western edge of the hills. Her mind remembering the horde that they had seen, and that had chased them, she looked down at the base of the mountain upon which they rested and saw the moving pool of green that lay upon the hills.
A stirring drew her attention to Gash who had woken and was moving to join her. She looked back out the window and nodded, indicating the horde.
“Those that have chased us remain,” she said.
Gash looked out and noted the same sight. They could not go back the way they came.
“Do you think the army will get the mountain past the hills?” Mara asked.
Gash nodded.
“It will take time,” he said in reply.
“But we do not now how long they have been at it,” Mara said, looking at him.
Gash looked at her then and the two caught each others’ eyes. Mara recalled her earlier thoughts and then her conversation with Gash.
“I am sorry for running out on you the other night,” she said, looking back ahead of her, “and for nearly striking you again. I suppose it is my own fault for missing my chance to speak to the…whatever she is; the Lady Lilliandra. I was angry at you for not informing me until then, but no longer. May I ask what she spoke to you about?”
Half-Orc Redemption Page 26
