Half-Orc Redemption

by Luke T Barnett

  “You began to skulk about and swipe the air, as if you were fighting to gain control of your body. You stepped through briars, over sharp rocks, shouldered trees. You acted as if you had gone mad, all without saying anything or even grunting. I watched you act like this for hours. Eventually, dawn came and you finally stopped your mad behavior and spoke. ‘Who are you?’ you said. ‘You are lying! Lying! Get away from me!’ Then you shook your head madly and gripped it. Your voice changed to something deep and throaty. ‘Foolish girl!’ you said. ‘Let me in! Submit to me!’

  “Then you flew back as if struck by an attack. You recovered and took a defensive stance. Before I knew it, you seemed to be engaged in battle with some unseen enemy. I would have thought you mad again, but your movements were purposeful and would have been normal if you had actually been fighting with someone. I watched you until the sun peaked over the trees and I rushed out to help you, calling out to you. You immediately turned and began attacking me. I tried to call out to you, but you would not relent. The battle you had with our uncle sounds like the battle you had with me. I only sought to stun you, however. I would not have seriously hurt you. The rest you know.”

  Mara was weeping.

  Durin reached out and put his arm around her, pulling her close. Mara fought between wanting to strike him, to get his filthy betraying hands off of her, and wanting the comforting arms of her big brother. She did not know what to do and so she simply wept silently into her hands.

  **********

  Mara stood before her father, her brother standing at their sides, his hands better wrapped and splinted. The two had made their way slowly around to a place where Durin could climb without the use of his hands. Eventually they made their way back to their tribe and now stood before their father. Mara’s head was bowed in shame and uncertainty. She had told him what had happened, what she had seen, and what she had done to Durin. Her father had stood there for several minutes, a grim look on his face as he considered her words.

  “You fought with the warrior kings and queens,” he confirmed at last.

  “They were not who they claimed,” Mara stated boldly. “Or if they were, they were hiding something.”

  “The warrior kings and queens rule in righteousness. You know better than to smear their name by claiming such things.”

  “Yes, honorable one. You are right,” Mara said, but even then, she doubted if it was completely true. “But they did attack me.”

  “After you rejected their offer.”

  Mara’s hands balled into shaking fists.

  “They were not who they claimed!” she said almost in a shout as she stared up angrily at her father. “Why will you not listen?”

  “The kings and queens would not have attacked you without reason.”

  “I agree, Father,” Mara said, more quietly.

  She continued to stare at him in anger. He stared down at his daughter catching the implied meaning in her words.

  “Be careful of what passes your lips, daughter,”

  She had no intention of being careful.

  “Have they visited you in your Wilderness Journey?” she asked.

  Her father did not answer. Mara turned to her brother.

  “Did they visit you, Durin?”

  Durin looked at Mara and then to their father. Mara turned back to her father.

  “If you wish to strike me, Father, than do so. But I will not be silent and believe a lie. If what attacked me was not the Kru-iss than you tell me what they were. I can think of no other creature capable of such treachery.”

  Her father did not strike her, though he wanted to. It was known to all their peoples that to say a Kru-iss could imitate a warrior king or queen would be to put the ethereal beings on equal ground. According to their beliefs, only the gods could take their own form. Such talk was blasphemy of nearly the highest order. Mara’s father turned away and paced a step or two as he thought and allowed his anger to subside.

  Mara did not know where her boldness had come from. In times past she would never have been so brash as to defy her father. But something gave her strength, enabled her to fight off whatever had attacked her and empowered her with boldness to seek the truth and not let pass a lie, even if it meant the death of her beliefs.

  “Tira,” came her father’s voice. “Assemble a travel pack and bring it here.”

  Mara’s face might have gone slack in shock if her anger had not still been boiling inside of her. Her father turned again to face her.

  “The dream can only mean one thing,” he said. “You have not been accepted as a warrior. You rejected their offer and so you have been rejected. You may not rule our clan.”

  Mara’s tears began to fall through her rage. She knew what was coming and it was destroying her inside.

  “You must go from this place,” her father continued. “You may not return until you have attained righteousness for yourself. May you then be found worthy and accepted as a warrior.”

  Her mother emerged from the tent behind him then and approached, carrying a stuffed, leather pack. She did not even look at Mara as she dropped the bag just short of her outstretched arm and headed back into the tent.

  Mara shook with anger and despair, though her face only displayed the former as her tears made plain the latter.

  “I shall return, Father,” she managed in bitterness as she snatched up the pack. “May I be found worthy and acceptable to once again be called your daughter.”

  She then turned with a swiftness and began to walk away. Durin glanced at his father and moved to catch up. His father called after him but he paid it no mind.

  “Mara,” Durin called after his sister.

  Mara turned to look at him, her face the same, her tears still falling.

  “Why didn’t you say something, Durin? You’ve never believed in the Kru-iss or the gods.”

  “Because I am a coward,” Durin stated plainly. “But no longer.”

  He then moved his arms so that his staff came out and rested across them in a stance of offering. Mara’s face softened. She looked from the staff to her brother’s face.

  “Durin, that is your warrior’s staff. You cannot give that to me.”

  “It is mine to do with as I please. If there are reprisals to come from the gods or from our clan then I will face them. But I shall not stand by and let injustice be done and so I lend it to you. Take it. You shall need it.”

  Mara hesitantly took hold of Durin’s staff and then threw her arms around her brother.

  “Thank you, Durin,” she cried almost in a whisper.

  “Take care, my sister,” he said looking her in the face. “As soon as I heal I shall follow after you. If you travel across the Great Waters, you will find another land. In the east of that land is a city called Galantria. By all accounts of our kindred, it is a safe place. Wait for me there if you can. If not, send up the smoke. I shall look for it.”

  At last Mara found the strength to smile and to wipe the tears from her face. She then slung on her pack and grasped her brother’s arm before once again turning and walking away from her brother, her family, her home and her gods.

  *************

  “I dream about them often,” Mara said when she had finished her tale, “the Kru-iss that claim to be my ancestors. I am always fighting them. I always am able to best them. And I always wake up in the middle of the battle with my uncle. It frightens me, what would happen if they were to gain the upper-hand. I do not know how they have followed me out of their realm. But I do know that what my father said was wrong, which means that the gods of my people are not gods or do not exist at all. I have cried too many tears over this already.

  “The only answer, the only thing that seems clear to me, is that I must find truth and righteousness. By righteousness I will be counted a warrior and once again be accepted by my clan. Only a true warrior can attain righteousness. That is how it is said. But I cannot attain it the way they have said I must attain it. That is a lie. And the Kru-iss t
ell nothing but lies. I cannot help but think that…that the supposed gods of my people are simply the Kru-iss whispering lies to them. I cannot know unless I find truth. If I can find it and bring it to my clan, perhaps they will see the Kru-iss’ deception and turn from it to embrace the truth. But the way my father reacted, stubbornly clinging to that joshk of a lie…”

  Mara paused, ringing her hands in anger, before calming and continuing.

  “I do not know anymore what is truth or if it exists. And if it does not exist, neither does righteousness. And it is only a matter of time before the Kru-iss overpower me and consume me.”

  Gash looked upon the dejected teenager with a sense of compassion. She sat with her legs pulled to her chest, her eyes once again staring off into nowhere. He could relate well to much of her tale.

  “Truth does exist,” Gash said finally. “I have seen it many times…in terrible ways…but also in…ways I cannot explain.”

  Mara looked at him, not looking convinced. She could tell he was having trouble forming his thoughts into words. She sat silently listening as he continued.

  “Righteousness must also exist or we could not know what is right. But…it cannot be found…in us.”

  “But it is found in your god, is it?” Mara asked in an unconvinced tone. She then shook her head. “You have greater faith than I, Gash, in me and in your god. I am tired. Let us rest for the night.”

  Mara then lay down in her spot and was instantly asleep.

  XXIV. Ascent

  Gash woke before the sun had risen. The rains had stopped, and he felt restless, something nagging at his mind. He stood and walked to a ridge that lay several feet from their camp. Looking out into the twilight, he viewed the source of his unsettling and stood there watching until the sun crested the horizon and his attention was drawn by some faint grunts coming from behind him. He turned and saw Mara tossing in her sleep. He left his spot and approached her, observing, but not getting too close, remembering her tale. After a moment, her face became more agonized, more fearful, and he decided he could not wait for her to wake on her own.

  He moved to her and grabbed her flailing arms, shaking her and calling her name. After several violent shakes and him receiving a kick to his groin, Mara finally started awake, wide-eyed, and sat up, looking around frantically, Gash was sitting before her, attempting to recover.

  “Gash?” she said. “What has happened? Did I strike you?”

  “No blood,” Gash grunted. “I knew it to come. But I had to wake you. You did not look like you were fighting.”

  “No. I was, but it was different. There was someone else there, much stronger than the Kru-iss. I think it was a Kru-iss too, but…”

  Mara stared off into nowhere, attempting to recall and sort-out the totality of the vision.

  “Perhaps it was a Kruss-na,” she said finally, looking at Gash. “They are the beings of the underworld that birthed the Kru-iss. But they are vastly more powerful and also confined to their realm not of this earth. I do not know how he would be able to reach me.”

  “He?”

  “Yes. I do not know how I knew, but it was definitely male. It wore a tattered robe. Its face was hidden. Its hands were gnarled claws of green. Its voice was a gurgling scream. The others seemed to yield to its presence. I knew it threatened to consume me. It was about to when you woke me. There was…something…something on its chest…”

  Mara looked off again, attempting to remember.

  “It was a symbol of some sort. A flame…yes, a picture of a flame on its robe. And there was a jagged line running through it…like lightning. It seems to me it must mean something, but I do not know what.”

  Mara looked at Gash then and saw a look of revelation on his face.

  “What?”

  Gash rose and led Mara to where he had been standing before he woke her. As she followed him up the rise to the short cliff, she heard a growing rumble. The open sky before them gave way to a massive hump of rock a great distance away. The rock continued down to form both the massive makings of a mountain as well as its strange, bent-over peak from which hung a crooked structure of gray stone. Far below, they could see at the base of the mountain the army of orcs they had seen once before now closer than ever and seeming to go on forever in every direction. The orcs were shouting something in unison at the rising sun. Their terrible voices filled and vibrated the air around the two travelers despite their distance. It was not that they were loud, which they were. But it was simply that, as Mara put it…

  “Bula. There are so many.”

  The two stood silently staring at the scene before them for some time. At length, Mara spoke.

  “It is as a…what do you call it…a country, filled with your kin, Gash. This is far more than we saw before. Where could they have come from?”

  “I do not know,” Gash admitted, looking upon the army. “But it is too many even for the dwarves.”

  Mara looked across from them to the broken structure hanging from the bent peak of the mountain.

  “Is that our destination?” she asked, pointing with her staff.

  “The Tower of Grot,” Gash replied.

  “Their god lives there does he?”

  “He is no god.”

  “No. By your reaction to my dream, I say that he is a Kruss-na, the very one that threatened to consume me. How do you plan to battle spirit with flesh and steel, Gash?”

  Gash was silent a moment, but finally admitted, “I do not know.”

  Mara gave him a long hard stare, but ultimately said nothing, deciding instead to turn her attention to the army far below them.

  “What do they shout?” she asked.

  Gash looked at her.

  “Just because I know some of your tongue does not mean I know every word,” she impatiently told him.

  “They are cursing the sun,” Gash replied, turning back to view the orcs. “They are swearing by Grot that they will bring even its light to ruin.”

  Mara swallowed, nervous at the horrible power these orcs held. They would truly destroy the world.

  “You hope to disband them by defeating their god,” she surmised.

  “Yes.”

  Mara then sighed and looked again to the tower.

  “It is a shame we cannot fly there. It is so close. I can even see the windows on it-“

  Mara’s eyes went wide and she stepped forward.

  “Gash…” she began, squinting against the sunlight. “…I saw movement. Just now through one of the windows of the tower. I was sure I saw something move.”

  She shook her head.

  “How could anyone be living up there?” she asked.

  “We shall soon know,” Gash replied.

  Without another word, he turned and headed back into the wood.

  *************

  The two followed the dwarven road to its end, emerging from the secret passage to find themselves in a narrow crevice between two rock faces that stretched in both directions for several hundred feet and then curved out of sight. Discerning their direction from the sun, or rather, where the sun was blocked out by the mountain that blocked their view of it, they headed east.

  After many twists and turns, the two turned a final corner to find an opening several feet away. The shadow of the mountain completely covered them now and the rank smell of the orcish army filled the air around them. Moving cautiously forward, Gash signaled Mara to do the same. Mara gripped her staff tightly, though she feared there was little she could do as Gash’s girth took up the whole of the crevice. Gash stopped for a moment to awkwardly pull his axe from its sheath before edging up to the opening and peering out.

  Orcs covered the area in droves, the ground beneath them already a muddy waste. They were huge, lumbering, and more feral than Gash remembered any member of his clan appearing. Symbols of Grot were everywhere, covering eyes, tattooed on chests, arms, and legs, and painted on swords, tents, and contraptions of all sorts. The latter were the only things that seemed to rise
out of the endless sea of green. Gash could not see the mountain or the cart from the shelter of their crevice, but he knew it could not be far off.

  The one strange thing he noticed about these orcs, was that they were mostly silent. As they moved about, few shouts or snippets of conversation pierced the air. Gash looked to the faces of those few who sat or walked nearby. Their eyes appeared lost in some distant thought. It seemed to him that they were held captive by a force that kept their mind singly focused, while deep inside their souls burned with rage. These orcs would be more dangerous than any he had encountered. Getting through them would not be simple. But how was he to get through them? His mind raced as he attempted to come up with an answer.

  “Well?” came Mara’s whisper from below him. She had knelt down to peer through the small gap between Gash’s right leg and the wall of the crevice. “What do you stand there for?”

  Gash waved her back and the two retreated to a safer distance where they could talk without fear of being discovered.

  “I was thinking,” Gash explained.

  Mara furrowed her brow.

  “Thinking?” she echoed him. “Of what? Surely you have already thought of a way to get past them before now.”

  Gash did not answer for embarrassment. He had not forgotten her earlier words of his rushing into situations without thought and was ashamed he had done it yet again. Mara had not forgotten either, and displayed this well in an exadurated rolling of her eyes and head, ending with her head in her hand and a frustrated sigh escaping her throat.

  “I cannot believe you do not have a plan,” she said, her temper flaring a bit. “Did you not spend most of your life with these creatures? You cannot tell me you do not know how to move about them unnoticed.”

  At her words, Gash realized he had not thought about the matter from the perspective of his own clan, and his mind sparked in revelation.

  ***********

  Orcs moved feverishly amongst each other, building or repairing siege weapons or wagons, making or chipping weapons, or just going from place to place. Few of them took notice of the half-blood walking through their midst with an apparently dead human slung over his shoulder. Those who did take notice did not linger on the matter. A living un-orc carrying a dead un-orc was nothing worthy of their attention.