Half-Orc Redemption

by Luke T Barnett

  Gash then turned and continued to walk away. Grak stood silent a moment. In a quick movement, he reached out for Mara. She reacted just as he had planned by guarding with her staff. His hand grabbed her staff and she was pulled into a bear hug, her back to Grak and her staff out. But she too held surprise in her action and flattened her hands against her staff to hold it as a barrier between herself and his arms.

  “Give me my death, gooklak!” Grak called to Gash in the common tongue. “Or I will crush your one womb!”

  “Giashda toschca!” Mara fired back as her heel went up into his crotch.

  His grip didn’t weaken by much, but it was enough for her kick her staff slanted, grip it, and thrust it upward into Grak’s waiting eye socket. Grak roared in pain and grabbed the staff. He pulled it from his eye and heaved it and Mara away from him.

  Gash watched as she landed amidst a group of the surrounding dwarves. He heard her grunt and the dwarves tell her she had better stay down, that an orc was not something to be trifled with. And he heard her fiery response as she clamored to her feet.

  “Be gone with you! Do not tell a warrior queen how to fight her battles!” she said. “I can handle this greechak!”

  Mara stood ready, her staff pointed at the fierce creature before her. Recovering from the shock of his wound, Grak gathered his blades and promptly flung them at Mara. Mara swung her staff, deflecting them and sending them flying off in different directions over the heads of the dwarves. She turned to see Grak already charging. She had expected as much and completed her motion by bringing her staff full-force into Grak’s chest. A crack was heard as Grak stopped dead in his tracks. Mara immediately followed up by bringing the end of her staff up into the monster’s jaw. She then swung the other end around, striking the side of his face, and then back around with the other end in his side. All of these followed one after the other in rapid succession at a speed that impressed the dwarves, though some remarked how her hits could have been more forceful.

  The last impact was not as hard as a full-on swing and Grak was able to grab the staff and pull her in. But she had learned her lesson and as she came in, brought the ball of her hand hard up into his chin. The strike did nothing and did not slow him. The monster again lifted her by her staff, intending to slam her lithe body to the ground. But as he did, Mara’s still outstretched hand, gripped the first handhold it felt, which happened to be Grak’s now empty eye-socket, and she gripped down hard. Grak roared in pain, his momentum and Mara’s weight causing him to stumble, turn and at last fall on his face, his hands gripping his eye socket now free of Mara’s hand.

  Grak rolled on the ground, roaring in pain. Mara watched him, her breath heavy. At last he gained enough composure to get to his feet. His empty eye squinted shut, he looked for Mara and upon seeing her, charged at her with a blood-curdling roar. For one unprepared or inexperienced, he would have simply been too fast. But Mara had learned this creature’s speed and even his pacing and when the moment was right, she leapt up, dodged his swing, and brought her staff down as hard as she could into the side of his head. A deafening crack was heard at the impact and Grak instantly collapsed to the ground. Mara fell, unable to recover and land properly, but immediately stood and took a defensive stance. But Grak did not move. He simply lied there in silence.

  After a few moments, she at last lowered her stance, brought her staff in front of her, stood it upright, gripped it with both hands, and bowed her head. She raised her head again as Gash walked up next to her. Mara did not look at him, but continued to stare at Grak’s silent body.

  “You are avenged, Gash,” she said through still heavy breaths. “My oath is fulfilled.”

  Gash looked at her. She spoke again.

  “You did not die on the mountain, but that was the intent. I failed you then, but now you are avenged. I have fulfilled my oath according to the laws my tribe.”

  Gash just stared at her. She did not look at him, but said simply, “Why do you stare at me so?”

  A groan from Grak’s body diverted their attention and they watched it convulse slightly as he coughed. Mara once again took a defensive stance, but Grak made no other movement. One of the dwarves moved to him and flipped him over. His eyes were closed and his body was limp. The only reaction that came from him was a couple of weak coughs.

  “Will he live?” Gash asked the dwarf.

  The dwarf nodded.

  “He’ll live,” he said. “But he won’t be the same.”

  “Care for him,” Gash instructed. “And release him when he is well.”

  “What?” Mara said, looking up at him.

  Gash did not respond, but turned and walked away through the crowd of dwarves. Mara followed close at his heels.

  “You mock my oath, Gash,” she said.

  “I do not,” Gash responded as he kept walking.

  “What do you call it then?” Mara said, her temper rising. “I risk my life to-“

  “I did not ask you to avenge me,” Gash said, at last stopping and turning to look at her.

  Mara stopped and looked up at him, an unsure look upon her face.

  “I released you from your oath long ago,” he continued in harsh tones. “But you would not honor my words. You honored only your pride. Did you hear nothing I said to him? Do not pretend you cannot understand our tongue. You are not stupid. You have been with us too long. I did not wish to see Grak dead. Death is empty. To take revenge is to be like him. I will not seek it. Not on him, not on any. You asked me if righteousness exists. If it does, revenge is not the way to gain it.”

  Gash stared at her with his ever-present scowl. His voice had been sterner than he had meant it to be. Still the words rang true and he would not retract them. Mara did not answer, but bowed her head in shame. They stood there in silence for long moments, dwarves going on about their business around them, seemingly unaware of the two kindred spirits now so staunchly at odds with each other.

  Eventually, Gash noticed small droplets of water wetting the dirt at Mara’s feet. It was then she spoke in a voice shaken and broken.

  “You think me wrong for fighting him. I fall into service of a lifedebt. I insult and injure. I attempt to redeem myself and…can I do nothing right? Gash…please…”

  Mara sunk to her knees.

  “Tell me…tell me I am worth…something. Tell me that righteousness is not beyond my grasp.” She at last looked up at him, tears flowing from her eyes.

  “Please, Gash. Or I shall kill myself here and now. For there is no more reason for me to live.”

  Gash regarded her and saw in her that deep pain he had seen emerge before, now in full bloom, and his heart broke for her. He knelt down in front of her. He could see her defenses were totally gone. He had never seen her so helpless.

  “I do not fault you for fighting him,” he told her, “only for seeking revenge. I do not know where righteousness lies or how we may gain it. But I know it is in the Godking and if there is a way, it is through him.”

  Mara’s eyes strayed into nowhere as she sniffed. They then refocused on Gash as she spoke once more.

  “You have…such faith in your god?” she asked.

  Gash nodded. Mara looked away and shook her head.

  “I do not know such faith,” she said dejectedly. “I have none…anymore.”

  “Perhaps, it was in the wrong thing.”

  “What?” Mara said, looking up at him.

  “G’uar.”

  Mara quickly turned away and wiped the tears from her face as H’ruk and Trogla walked up to them.

  “What you have us do?” he asked Gash.

  “Orc army coming down coast. Stay here. Train with the dwarves. Watch for Bent Mountain in the north and east. When battle comes, you lead them.”

  “What you do?” H’ruk asked him.

  “I go to defeat Grot,” Gash returned.

  Trogla gaped. H’ruk did not even flinch.

  “Go then. Show him your strength and make him cower before you.”


  H’ruk then turned and walked off. Trogla stood staring at Gash. At last she spoke.

  “G’uar,” she managed. “You…go to defeat Grot?”

  Gash nodded.

  “But…he god,” she said.

  “No,” Gash replied. “He is false. He controls orc army. I will defeat him and free our kin from his grasp.”

  Trogla only looked more amazed, but in the same moment, a look of pride came upon her face and shortly, her look became strong and confident.

  “Then I go with you,” she said. “I make oath. Not turn back.”

  “No,” Gash forbade her. “Need you to help Dwarves. I do not forget your oath. But you are needed here. Obey me in this, Trogla. It is best.”

  With obvious reluctance, Trogla said no more, but saluted Gash in the fashion she had previously shown and then turned and walked off, not looking back, though her hand could be seen wiping her face as she walked.

  Gash looked to Mara who now stood facing him. Her face still held a long look, but her tears were gone and the sorrow was less prevalent.

  “Will you come with me?” he asked her.

  Mara nodded, looking at the ground.

  “I am with you wherever,” she replied solemnly.

  Gash nodded and Mara led them to where they might procure food and water for the journey. Dolanas was there, now stripped of his armor and tunic, sitting upon a felled log, busy about his usual task of whittling. His body was coated with sweat, though the day was not hot.

  “Gash, Mara,” he greeted them, his back to them as he continued his task.

  Mara glanced at Gash.

  “I will get the supplies,” she said, moving away.

  “I take it you aren’t going with us to fight your kin?” Dolanas asked once Mara had gone. His voice was calm and even, as though he were discussing daily business. When Gash told him of his intent, he simply humphed.

  “Just like you to do something like that,” he said. “Don’t suppose I could talk you out of it?”

  “No,” Gash replied. “It is the only way to free them.”

  Dolanas nodded.

  “I understand. You have to do what you can for your kin. I’d do the same if it were mine. Well, so be it.”

  At last he stood and turned to face him. His chest, arms, and abdomen, were intensely muscular. None, if any fat could be seen on his stout frame. In his hand he held a rolled up parchment which he offered to Gash.

  “This is a map of the dwarven roads,” Dolanas said as Gash took the parchment and examined it. “I rather had a hunch you would be heading off on your own. Like I said, seems to be your way. That will lead you safely through the mountains within a day’s time. Destroy it after you make it through.”

  He then offered Gash his arm. After a moment’s hesitation at the honor again given him, Gash embraced it.

  “Come back to us if you can,” Dolanas said looking the half-orc in the eyes. “I don’t care for things to end here.”

  Gash nodded as Mara walked back up, carrying a couple waterskins and a small sack of food.

  “Lady Mara,” Dolanas said, “you take good care of this one, and yourself as well.”

  Mara’s face and tone were somber. Yet she nonetheless replied, “Upon my honor.”

  Dolanas nodded. The two then turned and without a further word to anyone, headed northeast.

  XXIII. Mara’s Tale

  Gash and Mara sat beneath a tree eating the dried meat they had brought with them as the rains poured down around them. They had been traveling for two days with no rest and no words between them. The dwarven roads had led them out onto a small, but lush forest on the east side of the mountains through which they had traveled. With one last leg of the journey before the dwarven path was exhausted, and the day drawing to a close, they decided to stop and catch their rest. Gash looked at Mara now, contemplating their mutual silence. The youthful warrior sat staring into nowhere as she chewed her meat, seeming to Gash to be deep in thought. She had been strangely silent on this journey, Gash had thought, but then he had never traveled alone with her before. Perhaps she contemplated her question. Perhaps…

  “Mara.”

  Mara snapped her head to look at him.

  “Where do your thoughts go?” he asked her.

  Mara sighed and looked away, dropping the hand that held her meat.

  “I was afraid you would ask me that,” she said dejectedly.

  “You do not wish to tell me?” Gash surmised.

  “No,” Mara replied. “I do not wish to think about it. But it seems it is all I can think about lately. I cannot get away from it.”

  Mara shifted from her squatting position to one that sat her cross-legged.

  “I may as well tell you. I have held to myself for too long,” she said.

  She then took in a calming breath, preparing herself, and began.

  “I come from a land across the Great Waters called Pi-lloue-Eu-ton. In the common tongue, it is the land of the ‘Hot Sun, Low Grass, Iron Trees, and Great Wind.’ My people are called the Tamboue. Within the people of Tamboue are clans. Within the clans are tribes according to the winds. My father is the leader of the Eastern Tribe of Dira-Din. He is greatly respected and honored. None questioned him…until me.

  “Our people are a warrior-people. I was raised just as the others and trained the same as well. But my skill was much higher than any that had come before me. I could even best my father at times.

  “I have told you of my birth and the belief that the gods held the destiny of a Warrior Queen for me. My skill at the staff and unarmed combat only served to strengthen that belief among my people and myself. When a member of the clan reaches a certain age, they take a test to find righteousness and be fully accepted as a woman or man and warrior. It is called the Wilderness Journey and by the day of my sixteenth year from my formation in my mother’s womb, I was more than ready.”

  ***********

  “Mara of Tamboue, daughter of the Eastern Tribe of Dira-Din, heir to rule the tribe of Dira-Din and destined to become a Warrior Queen.”

  Mara stood taller and straighter at the pronouncement of her name and title. She was still and quiet, listening respectfully. But her outward appearance lent nothing to what lurked beneath her skin. Her heart raced in anticipation. Her nerves and muscles screamed at her to jump about in excitement.

  She stared steadily and stoically at her father standing now as head tribunal. She admired him greatly. He had ruled unwavering with righteousness, love, and justice. His strength both outwardly and inwardly was unrivaled. How proud she was to be his daughter.

  At his right, stood her brother Durin; at his left, Tira, her mother; and in a circle surrounding Mara, those in the tribe that had passed the Wilderness Journey to stand as witnesses and to see her off on her journey.

  “Today is the day of your fifteenth summer since your mother Tira brought you forth,” her father continued. “You have grown and shown great skill and great discipline in your training. But there are as yet still many matters for you to learn. Strength, courage, justice, humility; these are matters that cannot simply be taught, but must be learned on one’s own.

  “The Wilderness Journey is your path to walk as a warrior and to rule as a leader. But the journey is a trial and a testing to test the spirit. Its path is narrow, rough, barren, and harsh. And you must face it alone. If you pass, you shall walk as a warrior unquestioned and rule in righteousness the day that your mother and father are able to rule no more. However, it is your choice to make. If you do not take it, you will be cared for and loved no different until the day of your death, but you will never walk nor stand in victory and you will not rule. And you will not fulfill your destiny as Warrior Queen. What is your choice?”

  “I choose the Wilderness Journey, honorable one,” Mara announced, restraining herself in respect. “May the path shape my feet to walk in the way of righteousness.”

  “Do you wish to relinquish your claim to rule the tribe in suc
cession to your father and mother?”

  “I do not,” Mara replied.

  Her father took a step forward, his fist holding firmly the wooden staff that had been his since he had taken his own journey.

  “Let it be known!” he shouted. “Mara of Tamboue has accepted the Wilderness Journey and the path of the warrior. Should she pass, she will rule in my stead upon the time when I am no longer able. It shall be so!”

  “It shall be so!” the crowd responded.

  “It is tradition in our tribe,” her father continued, “that one who has passed his Wilderness Journey and who is closest to the one embarking should escort the embarking one to the beginning of her path.”

  Her father then turned and looked back as Durin stepped forward, a smile on his face as he stared on at his little sister. Mara could not help but smile back in joy. Her father then looked back to her and held out his hand.

  “Go now, and return a warrior and a queen.”

  “I will, Father,” Mara replied.

  The two clasped hands and the warriors gave shout as two horses were brought forth. Mara released her grip with her father and flashed a smile at her mother as the two siblings mounted their horses. With a shout, Mara’s horse began to move, following Durin’s as the two rode away from their parents and the group of warriors.

  *************

  Mara looked on at her brother ahead of her. She longed to trot up beside him, a smile upon her face. But she relented and remained serious, riding silently behind him. She was now beginning her journey. The time for playfulness and lightheartedness was past. There would be other times, but now was the eve of her testing. She had spent the day before listening to her father impart his wisdom and strength to her; her mother, wisdom and love. But the majority of her day had been spent with her brother, talking long about life, their fears and wishes, even of the gods themselves. He had been her best and only friend. She was truly happy that he was the one to see her off.

  As they approached a crag of sharp rocks rising from the ground, Durin halted his horse and dismounted. Mara did the same and followed him into the crag. They were near the edge of the prairie. Beyond lay the jungle with steep, rocky mountainside between them. But she had never been to this part of the land. In fact, they were far from anything she knew.