“Gash...” he offered, “...Bloodaxe.”
Mara’s eyes widened and the woman’s eyebrows rose at the sound of the name. The woman stared at Gash a moment in surprise.
“That’s quite a name,” she said at last.
“Well, Lady Mara, Master Bloodaxe, my name is Marian. Now, I understand you two are in need of shelter.”
“Yes, Draigan-sae,” Mara replied, her left eye squinting as a raindrop plopped into it.
Sighing, the woman finally conceded.
“Very well,” she said stepping out of the way and holding the door open, “leave your weapons outside and come in out of the rain.”
“Thank you,” Mara said, the smile returning to her face as she set her staff to lean against the outside wall of the cabin. She then walked in and turned back to see Gash still standing outside the door, his axe still hiked across his shoulder.
“What troubles you, Master Bloodaxe?” Marian asked, seeing his lack of reaction.
Mara widened her eyes and impatiently gestured at him to enter. Gash merely stood there, his ever-present scowl examining this woman and peering in to see the insides of the cabin.
“You may relax, Master Bloodaxe, I have no intent to harm you,” Marian reassured him. “I ask that you leave your weapon only for my safety and peace of mind, not so that I might trap you.”
Gash looked back at Marian as his fingers nervously adjusted their grip on the haft of his weapon. Marian walked over to him, the door swinging mostly shut behind her. Mara could hear Marian talking, though she could not quite make out what she was saying. Moving closer, she could hear her speaking to Gash almost as if he were a pup or a small child. Mara peered through the crack in the door and saw Marian’s hand guiding Gash’s to set the axe down and release his grip. The door flew open, and Mara jolted her head back causing her to stand up straight.
“Now come inside out of the rain,” Marian told Gash, her attention still on him.
Glancing at her once more, Gash slowly stepped inside and looked around the small cabin. It wasn’t large. It in fact only consisted of one room. The door, which faced west, was offset from the center, sitting further north along the wall. On the walls in three places hung animal hides. Gash noted that one of them was in the place where the shuttered window sat on the outside of the same wall as the door. A bedding of straw and some thick quilts lie against the adjacent wall at the far end. Adjacent to the bedding and recessed into the wall was a set of three shelves, each large enough for a man to lie upon. A small table sat up against the wall opposite the door, some papers and an inkwell and quill resting on top. There was little else save for some wooden receptacles in a corner and a rocking chair that sat between the door and a stone fireplace on the north wall. The hollow chamber of the fireplace lay filled with small logs set ablaze. A large kettle hung on a set of metal hooks just above, the flames licking the bottom as steam rose from the top.
“Go and sit by the fire and warm yourselves,” Marian directed them, closing the door and pulling down a wooden latch to secure it.
Mara happily walked over and sat down cross-legged in front of the fireplace. She then scooted back to make room for Gash’s massive form. Gash noted that the door opened in and towards the fireplace. Where he was sitting would cause him to be hidden from the view of the doorway.
Taking off her pack, Mara placed it between her and the fire and opened it up. Gash watched as she pulled out a heavy pouch, reached inside, pulled out a handful of something that looked to him like dirt and then turned and tossed it into the fire. The fire died down for only the briefest of moments and let out a plume of crimson smoke, which rose into the chimney before the fire then flared back to life. Mara, after replacing the pouch and dusting her hands, held her hands up to the fire, warming and drying them. The fire crackled and snapped. Mara inhaled the scent of burning wood and reveled in it. She had always found fire fascinating and exciting. Something about it made her blood boil...in a good way. Undoing her braid, Mara let her hair fall loosely that it might dry better. Her fiery hair came down in wavy locks just above her shoulders and Mara ran her hand through it, loosening the strands.
“Now what were the two of you doing traveling in such rain as this?” Marian asked, walking over with two bowls and setting them between the two. “You are likely to catch an ailment, to say nothing of the rainlures.”
She then pulled the kettle from the fire and began pouring its contents into the bowls.
“Do you mean those rish-kal that melt when they are killed?” Mara asked her.
Marian raised her eyebrows.
“Well I hadn’t heard them referred to in that way before, but yes. They seem to thrive on this kind of debilitating weather.”
She then paused in her action, tipping the kettle upright, and looked at the girl, a questioning look on her face.
“You mean to say you’ve actually killed one?” she asked her.
Mara was a bit surprised at her words but nonetheless responded by pointing to Gash and saying, “Well…not I. He killed them.”
She then added in dejected tones, “My staff did not seem to harm them much.”
“Them?” Marian said, glancing at Gash. “How many did you face?”
“Ummmm…” Mara replied, trying to recall and count. It had been hard to keep track amidst the fighting. She began raising fingers as she took stock of her defeated enemies. “…tosh…kan…drael…Ummm…I am sorry, I do not remember how to say the numbers in common. This many and one more.”
Mara held up all ten fingers. Marian’s eyes went wide and she turned to Gash.
“Eleven?” she said. “I wasn’t aware there were that many in the forest.”
She then replaced the kettle as she continued.
“Well, you two certainly have had an encounter, haven’t you? You must have some skill to have survived without any wounds.”
At the words, Gash rubbed his right shoulder. The wounds still stung, but they were no worse than what he had suffered in his clan and had already sealed up on their own. Mara didn’t reply.
“They are an odd sort of creature, I must say,” Marian continued as she reached behind Gash and produced a large loaf of bread wrapped in a thick cloth. “Definitely monsters of some form, but appearing somewhat like men. Their appearance catches travelers off-guard; ignites sympathy and pity. That’s why they’re called rainlures. I have heard of them claiming many victims in the forest and other places.”
“Why have they not bothered you?” Mara asked.
“Because I don’t go out when it’s raining, dear,” Marian replied with a smile.
“It seems very strange to me,” Mara stated. “I have never even heard of them before coming to this valley.”
“Judging by your clothing, I wouldn’t guess that you would have,” Marian replied as she broke the bread and placed a hunk in each bowl. “From what I understand, they tend towards very wet areas and only come out when it is so, such as the downpours that seem to plague this valley. Their victims-“
She shook her head and waved the thought away as she moved to sit in the rocking chair.
“Oh, but you needn’t worry about that,” she said. “You have obviously survived, and for that, I am very thankful. Now you two eat up. It will help keep you from getting sick.”
Mara looked down to see a bowl filled with a steaming hot, green liquid. A hunk of bread sat part-way in the soup. Mara eagerly picked up the bread and bit off part of the now soggy section. She then looked up at Gash who was closely examining his portion of soup and bread. He acted as if he had never seen anything like it. Mara could not help but furrow her brow at his strange behavior. She wondered from whence this strange creature had come that he had never seen a loaf of bread or a bowl of soup. So engrossed was she that she didn’t hear Marian speak again until she called her name.
“Lady Mara?”
Looking to Marian, Mara swallowed the bread she had been chewing and spoke.
“Forgive me…Draigan-sae,�
� she said, remembering her manners. “What did you say?”
“I asked where you were headed when you encountered the rainlures,” Marian replied.
Ignoring the women, Gash cautiously took a bite of the bread that had been soaking in the broth. The softened bread crumbled in his mouth, the sweet taste and mushy consistency causing him to prematurely swallow. A small amount fell into his windpipe and the large half-orc began coughing. The two women looked to Gash who took up his bowl and sipped some of the hot broth. He then hungrily and eagerly ate his meal, taking large bites of the bread and slurping his broth, all the while giving the occasional cough.
Determining Gash was not choking, but still wondering about his behavior (he didn’t seem to know how to eat very well either), Mara pulled her attention away from the feasting figure sitting across from her and back to Marian.
“Um…to the…eastern city of Galantria,” Mara answered.
“Galantria,” the woman echoed her, her eyebrows slightly. “Were you headed there together?”
Mara became sullen.
“No,” she replied. “And I will not be headed there at all. I must go where he goes now.”
“Because he came to your aide?”
Mara sighed.
“Yes,” she grumbled, tearing off a chunk of bread. “According to the laws of my tribe I owe him a lifedebt. I cannot leave him until I repay it.”
She then stuffed the bread in her mouth.
“Even to death?” Marian asked.
Mara nodded. “I have sworn it.”
“Well, that is very honorable, lady.”
The words resurged in Mara a sense of honor and pride, helping her to forget her embarrassment. She picked up her bread and took another large bite.
“But for Gash …I am not sure…” she said between chews, attempting all the more to forget the matter. “Gash.”
Gash didn’t answer and she waved her hand in front of him and repeatedly called his name to get his attention. Finally, he looked up at her, soup dripping from his lips.
“Where were you headed when you found me?” Mara asked him.
“East,” was his reply as he glanced at the two.
“Well, I know that but where east?” Mara insisted.
“Towards the Collapsed Mountain,” Gash replied.
He then glanced at the two once more and returned to his meal.
“What is near this Collapsed Mountain?” Mara asked him, prompting him to again look up from his meal.
“Now, Lady Mara, we shouldn’t bother him,” Marian interjected. “If he does not wish to say, he does not have to. Tell me, why were you headed to Galantria?”
Gash returned to his meal and Mara, feeling a bit miffed at her efforts being stifled, picked at her bread.
“I am meeting someone there,” she grumbled, taking small bites.
“Ah, I see,” Marian said. “Well, it is a fine city. What brings you to-“
“Must you ask of my entire life?” Mara snapped.
Marian straightened and Gash looked up at the shout, half-dropping his bowl. Shame covered Mara’s face, her eyes moving down to avoid both their stares.
“I…forgive me, Draigan-sae,” she said in a subdued voice. Turning to face Marian, she then brought her knees together, bowed her face to the floor, and shoved her remaining meal towards the kind woman. “I have shamed myself and my tribe and spat on your kindness. I return to you what is yours and banish myself into the forest.”
Mara then half-rose but was halted by Marian’s voice.
“Nonsense, dear,” she said in a kind, motherly voice. “You are my guest and what I have offered I will not take back, and certainly not for a simple flare of temper to which we are all occasionally given. Sit down, finish your meal, and warm yourself. I assure you, you are readily forgiven.”
Further shamed by the woman’s kindness, Mara slumped back into her spot, her head still hanging. Unsure as to what she should do, she half-heartedly picked up her meal and continued eating. Desiring not to linger on the incident further, Marian turned her attention to Gash.
“Master Bloodaxe,” she said, drawing Gash’s attention away from Mara, “from whence do you hail, if I may ask?”
Gash just stared at her. In Gurak’s clan, shouts at another almost always meant a challenge. The moment he had heard Mara’s voice, his muscles had tensed and he had prepared to stand and back out of the way. The fact that these two were human women was the only thing that had caused him to pause in his action. Though he could now see the conflict was resolved, the manner in which it had been done thoroughly confused him. His muscles were still somewhat tense when Marian called to him and ask him a question in speech that he did not understand. Something in his look must have been understood, for Marian patiently spoke again, clarifying.
“Where do you come from?” she said.
For a moment, Gash’s eyes seemed to wander as he searched his memory for an answer. But he had none to give. His eyes focusing again on Marian, Gash replied, “I do not know.”
Marian stared at him a moment as sadness and sense of pity washed over her. Her face softened and she spoke her words in comforting tones.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Gash stared at her in thought. He knew common well enough but these words, “forgive me…I’m sorry,” seemed to him to come with tones of regret. Yet they did not seem to him to be the words of one begging to save one’s life as he had heard come from those in Gurak’s clan who faced death for a grievous wrong committed. Gash opened his mouth to ask their meaning, but his efforts were halted by a loud knock upon the door.
Startled, Marian looked to the door and called out, “Who goes?”
“A scout of the Knights of the Realm, m’lady,” a male voice returned.
Glancing a look of confusion at the two seated upon her floor, the woman moved to the door, unlatched it and opened it up to a little past her body width. Standing back from the door was a man adorned from shoulder to toe in black plate armor. At his side was strapped a sword and sheath with a hilt of blackened steel. The man’s lower jaw was covered in black scruff, as though he had not shaved in days, and the dark hair of his head was slicked back. He stood with a regality that one would expect of a knight in service. His blue eyes set themselves on Marian who raised her eyebrows at the sight of him.
“You are heavily fortified, m’lord,” she said, “for a scout, that is.”
“This is dangerous country, m’lady,” the man replied with a smirk. “One cannot be too careful, as I’m sure you well know.”
“Quite right,” Marian replied with a smile. “What service may I offer you, sir knight?”
“We are a traveling caravan headed for the eastern city of Galantria,” the man replied. “We have with us many who are in need of sustenance and we run low on food. Any help you could offer us we would, of course, be indebted for. Also, if the master of the house is at home, we are in need of warriors. His skill at the blade would be most helpful if just to escort us to our destination.”
“Well I am sorry to disappoint you, sir,” Marian replied, “but I have not but broth left in my home and the master of this house has long since left and with no intentions of returning, I’m afraid.”
The man’s smile faded as he gained a slight look of confusion fought with pity.
“I see. Forgive me, I did not know,” he said, bowing in a gentlemanly fashion.
“It’s quite alright, sir knight,” Marian replied. “His loss, I assure you.”
Rising back up, the man continued. “May I ask, lady, why then do you keep an axe-“ he took hold of the haft of Gash’s weapon and leaned it out for her to see “-that is far too large for you to wield sitting freshly placed against the outside wall of your home?”
“That is my business and I’ll thank you to leave it as such,” Marian replied.
“Very well,” the knight responded, moving the weapon back up against the cabin. His voice and face made it seem as if he had acce
pted her answer. His eyes told her otherwise. They lie filled with suspicion. She watched them as they darted from her to the inside of the cabin, and back. She could tell his guard was up. She had no doubt he saw Mara’s shadow on the wall and wondered what she was hiding behind that door. She readied herself to answer his request for entry, yet a different question came.
“By chance, m’lady, have you seen any Orcs in this valley as of late?”
Gash quietly slapped Mara on the shoulder causing her to look up. He sat with his eyes unfocused; still and quiet, listening intently and analyzing as best he could the words and tones of the woman and the knight.
“Orcs, m’lord?” Marian queried. “You realize, of course, that this valley is forbidden to them. An orc is as foreign to this valley as dishonor is to a knight.”
The man looked at her with a hard look.
“Nonetheless,” he said, unrelenting.
“Why ask you, sir knight?” she said. “Do you seek their counsel or their blood?”
A slight look of unbelief flashed across the man’s face, though it did nothing to diminish that which was there before.
“Their counsel, lady?” he echoed her in hard tones. “They are hideous monsters born and bred to evil. They rape, maim, and kill without conscience. Their hearts are as black as the pitch from which they came. They have no counsel to give, but the edge of a blood-stained sword. They are scum and they deserve nothing less than obliteration. As do all who would harbor their grotesque kind.”
The man took a step towards the door at the last few words. Immediately, Marian backed up a step and held up a finger.
“I warn you, sir knight,” she said, her voice shaking slightly, “you are near to committing a grave offense.”
Something sparked in Gash’s mind. Those words and tones he knew, and all too well. He silently shifted so that he was sitting on his haunches. Mara too shifted her position and reached her hand behind her.
“I know not from whence you hail,” Marian continued, “but the knights I have known do not enter into a home without permission, lest they bring dishonor upon their order. You would not so dishonor yourself, I would venture.”
Half-Orc Redemption Page 7