As he stood there staring at Lilliandra, who stood staring back at him, the side of her pearly face began to take a soft, orange glow. Gash could see very faint signs of golden-yellow in the delicate strands of her hair. A bright light shone into his right eye, forcing him to squint. Lilliandra turned and looked to the dawn, her mouth turning up slightly.
“The dawn comes,” she spoke contently.
It was impulse. His entire mindset had been forgotten in his attempt to understand the Lilliandra’s words. And so he turned at her words to at last look beyond his formerly intended grave. As he turned his head, Gash raised his hand to shield his eyes from the light. His eyes went wide in wonderment, his breath nearly left him, and he even stumbled back a step at the unimaginable landscape that was laid out before him. He stood at the precipice of a rocky cliff overlooking a deep and immense valley far below. The lush, green valley was covered densely with the thick pine trees of a forest that stretched far and wide in almost every direction. The valley itself possessed of its own smaller, individual hills and valleys. A strange, brown river snaked its way through to the north where it entered a gap in a mountain range that seemed to encircle the valley to the north and east. The brown river stretched southward, winding its way through the valleys before turning east and heading directly away from the cliff upon which the two of them now stood. Gash’s eyes followed the river and looked further still to behold in the distance beyond the mountain range, a great mountain rising up from the earth. Its snow-capped peak, though jagged and off-center, was barely visible through the purple haze of the morning sky. The bright, orange sun not having yet fully risen, cast it golden beams between the mountain peaks and upon the forest, its rays shining between the hills and valleys, giving its light to the trees and the many creatures of flight that encircled them. The whole forest seemed to glisten and sparkle with a beauty the tortured half-orc had never seen. It flooded his senses and nearly overwhelmed him to tears.
He had feared in his heart that he would never see an end to the Great Plains; that he would be forever trapped in a land whose earth and sky were as poisoned with pain as his tortured heart; but now that fear had been extinguished. It had died instead of he and he stared endlessly at the wondrous sight before him, wondering how such beauty could have before escaped him. He held no thoughts but for the scene before him, until a familiar voice, full of angelic tones cut through his blissful trance.
“Do you now see?”
Gash blinked looked to Lilliandra who turned to face him. He again beheld her beauty and thought it equal, if not greater than that of the land that lay before him.
“He has taken such great care with the world that he created,” she continued. “Will he not also do so much more for you whom he loves? Your actions are not worthless, Gash of the Bloodaxe, when done in service to the Godking and according to his will. Your actions affect others, even when you do not see it. You share the blood of those you hate, but you do not yield your heart to Grot. You have been gifted with a heart of honor, mercy, and compassion so that you would not visit the evil you have learned upon others, yet still seek to free them from its grasp, though they would not understand, nor even give thanks.
“Through your suffering, my master has taught you justice and a sense of right. Had you not suffered, you would not have learned. He can accomplish great things in you, Gash. Trust in him, turn from the ways of your kin and the wickedness in your heart, step forth, and be amazed at the work he creates in you.”
Gash stood there, his eyes again turned to the ground, his simpler mind trying to take in all that she had told him. He wanted to believe her. She spoke rightly of him. He did desire purpose. He did desire to be more fully those things which she spoke of him as well as to be better than he was.
But, evil? A wicked heart? How could such things be? Did not such wickedness of his clan deserve the hatred and anger which burned inside him? What evil was there in sacrifice? In justice? Yet his heart burned at her words as well. How could he know which was true?
From beside him, he heard a sigh. He raised his head to see Lilliandra also staring at the ground, her face nearly blank of expression.
“You still wonder at the truth he has shone so plainly into your heart,” she spoke, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “I do as well at times. It is unbelief and such wretchedness of heart that it shames me.”
Gash wondered at her then. She spoke with such authority and kindness. She was clothed in beauty. Her entire being seemed to continuously bask in purity. How could she consider herself wretched? And what did that make him? She looked at him.
“You must make a decision, Gash,” she told him in soft, but stern tones. “You may accept what you have seen and what you have heard, turn from your ways and trust him. Or you can deny him and go about your life as you choose. Life and death are before you. It is your choice.”
She then turned and began to walk back along the ridge as she had come.
“Lilliandra,” Gash said, prompting the light elf to stop and turn to face him. He had spoken on instinct, an instinct responding to truth and life, what little he had perceived. He knew he did not yet have all the answers, but she had indeed spoken truth to him. And she was filled with the Spirit of Something far greater than herself.
His deep scowl was once again prominent, his will once again focused and determined, his half-orc heart once again beating strong with life.
“I do not understand your god,” he told her. “But you have spoken truth to me. This I know. None of the children of Grot has said such things as you. None have spoken as you have spoken. If your master is as you say, then he is the good. I will follow and trust.”
The lady did not smile nor show any reaction. She merely returned a voice whose tone had not changed.
“It is a hard road you choose, Gash of the Bloodaxe,” she told him. “You will save many that will hate you. Many will be your enemies, few your allies, and even they will question you. You will face hardship and pain you have not yet known. And you will be broken many times before the end. And if you do not turn from your ways, it will all be for naught.”
“I have known pain,” Gash replied. “If it is as you say, I will be strengthened by it. Let it come.”
Lilliandra just stared at him. Her expression seemed on the edge of breaking. Into what, Gash could not say. It was a moment that froze in his memories, one that he carried with him and wonder at often.
“Please do not forget my words, Gash,” she pleaded. “They come not from me, but from him whom I serve. And they are the only way to victory and life. All else leads only to death.”
Gash nodded. There was weakness in her voice and desperation in her eyes. He wondered at her demeanor but was unsure as to how or if he should express his wonder. Her demeanor changed, however, and returned to one of instruction.
“Head East towards the Collapsed Mountain,” she told him. “There are many that will need your help. I shall see you again.”
“Where do you go?” he asked her.
“Northward,” she replied, turning to walk away. “A kingdom awaits me there.”
After a few steps, she stopped and turned to look over her shoulder.
“Heed my words, Gash,” she said again, “lest you should fall away and become like those you despise.”
“Tell me,” Gash said before she could take another step, “why does your god have this attachment, this love to me?”
Lilliandra paused only a moment before replying in the softer tone of her normal voice.
“Because,” she replied, “he is our Father.”
Only a moment more and Lilliandra turned her face forward and again took step.
Gash stood stunned. The moment Lilliandra had spoken the words, his parting conversation with the plainsman came to mind.
“Praise be to the Father! He has surely guided your hand! He waits only now for you to call upon his name.”
“I prayed for you and the Father restored you.”
“Go with peace. Remember well the kindness shown to you this day that you may reflect it in all that you do.”
“I do not know how to go with peace. What kindness when I wanted to die?”
“Dying is not the answer,’ I told him. ‘Death is empty and vain. Our lives have only one purpose and that is to bring glory to the one who created us, the Great Father. To embrace that is to find peace. To ignore it is worse than death.”
“Un-orc.”
“Yes. That is how your tribe would put it, isn’t it? That is the course of our lives if we do not walk in subjection to the Father. But through obedience, He grants blessing and life anew. Keep to him. Seek his way and not your own. Be strong and of a good courage. Follow him and he will grant you the strength to do so, Gash of the Bloodaxe.”
The words echoed deeply in Gash’s soul. The honor, kindness, and humility shown him by the plainsman flashed through his mind. He had believed in this Godking, this great Father. The light elf displayed the same and she had awakened him from his misery and self-pity. Their actions, their character must have been a reflection of the god they worshipped. Such a thing Gash had never before witnessed in all the years he had been with his clan. What little doubt remained in Gash’s mind as to this god, the light elf’s words, or this god’s work in his life, was quickly dissolved. He decided he would trust in this god no matter the cost. He did not understand the love, nor the wretchedness of which Lilliandra spoke, but thought that perhaps he yet would.
Gash cast one last glance at the light elf, now a great distance off, before turning and once again looking out over the immense valley-forest, and to the great mountain far beyond. He had been given a second chance at life. He would not squander it. A whole world lay before him and for the first time in his life, he felt that he had some purpose in it beyond the destruction of Gurak.
One step took him forward before a thought halted him. He remained there only a brief moment before determination once again took him and he turned and headed back down the hill from whence he had come. The lady elf said that Gurak was not the only evil. There would be more like him and worse.
As he reached the bottom of the hill, his eyes spied the object lying amidst a patch of shadows, covered by a thin layer of fallen pine needles. It rested peacefully there like the fallen skeleton of some long forgotten battle in a forest veiled by the passage of time. He had not forgotten. It was one of many things he had brought with him from the Cursed Land, but one of only two he would gladly keep. Reaching the object, Gash reached down, gripped the leather-wrapped haft and lifted the axe from its former grave. The hardened pine needles fell like loose icicles, making the sound of falling sand as they hit the barren forest floor.
Something spoke to Gash and he turned and looked back out over the endless plains from whence he had come and from which all of his pain had been birthed. The morning sun had not yet risen over the hill and it lay in silent twilight. The tall reeds swayed and bent in the wind in an illusion of softness and comfort as if to lure the half-orc back to his pain and far from his awakening and purpose. Gash stared hard at it, knowing it to be an enemy he had yet to defeat. Perhaps, he thought, by the power of this Godking, he yet would. Lifting his weapon onto his shoulder, he turned and started back up the hill.
IV. Wood
Gash made his way somewhat haphazardly down the steep slope that led down from the precipice upon which he had held his conversation with the strange, white-skinned elf. He had heard those of his clan speak of other races, but only in the manner as one spoke of something that once was, but had not been for some ages. Elves, dwarves, minotaurs, the great winged beasts, the small beings with wings, those that dwelt in the dark, and those stranger still that Gash could not remember the words to repeat; all were spoken of with wonder as something that had vanished from the world long ago. Only the humans and the orcs seemed to remain.
But then this light elf appeared, and by her words and her very presence, shattered all notions Gash had held that this was a dead world filled only with the evils his clan had displayed, though it be broken little by such kindness as the plainsman had shown. As he thought on this, he came to the realization that there must have been much he had learned from his clan; things that should never have been learned, that in time must also find their end.
As he reached the bottom of the slope, he found himself in a small, muddy ditch a short distance from the brown river he had seen from atop the precipice. Approaching the river across a patch of soft grass, he found it to be not a river, but a wide, dirt path as one well traveled by many peoples. But the road was empty now. Nothing stirred upon it. Gash stood and listened. He could hear nothing but the wind blowing through the leaves of the plants and trees that grew upon the many hills and flatlands that lined the dirt path. Not even birds or animals made any sound. It was an odd scene and Gash wondered at it, sensing something out of place. A deep thunderclap suddenly ripped through the silence. He looked up and saw the dark clouds looming overhead. He had not noticed their intrusion into the sky, being too lost in thought. He resolved to be more aware of his surroundings as he looked back to the road.
The returned silence was unsettling, given the scene before him. But he had no knowledge of how to change it or what to do. He went back to Lilliandra’s words and continued in the direction in which he had been sent. Though he could not now see the Collapsed Mountain because of the valley in which he stood, he remembered seeing that the dirt road emptied in its direction between the mountains at the eastern edge. And so he took step, following the road along its eastern course.
He had not gone far before the sky let loose in a torrent of rain. Gash trekked on, his pace not slowing, his will not yielding, though a torrent crashed down upon him. The water rolling off his brow sometimes made it difficult to see details before him. Still, the road was wide enough for him to see and so he had no need to stop.
The farther he ventured, the more came the feeling that something about this place disturbed him. He felt as if eyes were watching him. It caused him to halt and look around in a vain attempt to identify the source. He did not like this. This forest was hiding secrets.
Wiping the water from his face, he cast it into the torrent and then placed his hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes and brow from the rain. He looked to the road ahead. There was nothing in his vision but the road, the forest, and the rain pouring down from above. Holding his hand in its place, he resumed his pace, keeping himself ready and aware for anything that might come his way.
************
The rain poured heavily upon the Serpent Road and upon the young lady that now walked its wide, muddy path. Mara’s eyes searched the forested hill on one side of the road and then jumped across to search equally well the woods on the other side. Something bothered her about this place. Perhaps it was the fact that the road reminded her of serpent. She had always hated serpents.
Annoyed by the rain, her free hand reached up and pushed some of the water from her brow back into her fiery-red hair and down into the short braid that clung to the back of her head. Gripping the braid, she squeezed it tight. The water splashed harmlessly on the leather pack strapped behind her. She wasn’t used to such rain and it made watching the forest all the more difficult and tense. Her hand felt the six-foot staff that was wrapped in her soaked fingers and she re-adjusted her grip.
“Durin, be my guard,” she muttered, peering again to the wood on the other side of the road.
The rain suddenly seemed to increase all the more and the young lady stopped and looked up to the sky. Her throat let out a loud growl, her irritation with the downpour having reached its peak. She had enough. Danger, or no danger, she needed to get out of this torrent. Looking around for what would make the best immediate shelter, she spotted a tree whose strange, needle-like leaves were set higher than most around it. She ran over to it and took shelter under its boughs. Shivering as the cold, dry air hit her, she leaned her staff against the tree, leaned hersel
f to one side, and squeezed more water out of her braid. She muttered some words of disgust in her native tongue and rubbed her arms, attempting to warm herself.
“Lousy snake road,” she muttered aloud in her native tongue. She hated snakes and anything that reminded her of them. Muttering more words of frustration, she began walking in tight circles around the tree as she rubbed her arms. She occasionally glanced with disdain and suspicion at the empty road as she walked.
She was so consumed with distrust that she did not hear the quiet footsteps of those who came silently down the hill towards her.
************
As Gash walked, he heard sounds coming faintly through the rainfall. A bend was ahead of him. As he approached it, the rain let up slightly and the sounds became clearer. Someone was shouting. He recognized it as the shouts of one engaged in battle. Bringing his axe down to a two-handed grip, he readied himself for what lie ahead.
Rounding the bend, his eyes beheld the sight of several figures engaged in battle with a lone figure. The many were short, hunched figures resembling shabbily-dressed humans with arms that seemed overly long. They moved on all fours, much like an animal and sometimes charged, sometimes leapt at the lone figure. Now that Gash was closer, he could hear their feral growls. The lone figure, who stood skillfully defending against the onslaught, was a human girl, likely in her budding youth and armed only with what Gash saw as a long, straight stick.
The girl, though she was attacked in a constant wave, skillfully fended off any that came within striking distance. But she was in a bad spot and losing ground. The creatures, when brought to the ground or knocked away would recover and move in for another try. Attack. Struck down. Recover. Attack. Struck down. Recover. Attack. Over and over and over they assaulted the girl in a never-ending onslaught. Gash knew even the strongest of orcs could not keep up the girl’s pace against such a foe for long. He tightened his grip on his axe and quickened his pace as he prepared to engage them.
Half-Orc Redemption Page 5