Half-Orc Redemption

by Luke T Barnett

  Gash looked to the orc still pacing in front of the bars.

  “Not you?”

  H’ruk stopped and turned to face his leader.

  “You not un-orc,” H’ruk replied, at last speaking Common. “You prove that. When you kill Gurak, you destroy thoughts on Grot, un-orc, strength, everything for rest of clan. But not for me. Not for un-orc. I not care what they say. They still un-orc. She still un-orc” –at this he indicated Mara- “They still worthy of nothing.”

  “But you still not want kill them all,” Gash stated.

  “No,” H’ruk replied. “Like they say. It bad.”

  H’ruk then turned and continued to pace.

  ***********

  The afternoon passed uneventfully. Eventually, out of boredom and lack of conversation, all lay down and fell into an uneasy sleep, their hands on their weapons. H’ruk attempted to stay awake, but even his anger and watchfulness eventually gave way to weariness and he reluctantly followed the rest. The five of them were awakened by the loud clang of metal against metal as the door to their cell was unlocked and opened. H’ruk woke with a start, his weapon arm raised in defense and his eyes looking about. Standing beyond the bars were two of the town soldiers. One held open the cell door. The other held a crossbow cocked and ready. Between them was a sight that made H’ruk sneer. A human woman he had never seen before stood looking down at him with the same fear and contempt that all these townspeople had held.

  Deceitful un-orcs. They bring a female to pronounce our ends. I will not go without first taking the life of their queen!

  He was about to rise and attack when the woman’s voice rang out strong and clear. He was surprised to find it halting him in his tracks, as though her voice had reached into his soul and paralyzed him.

  “Mara, you can come with me. The captain of the guard has released you into my custody.”

  “Could you do nothing for Gash?” Mara said sleepily, standing up and rubbing her eyes.

  “Nothing as of yet, my dear, but there is hope. Come, quickly.”

  There was a note of urgency in her voice and Mara wished to comply, yet had no desire to leave Gash. She looked to him and he nodded. She had not been looking for his permission or approval, but she was in no mood to be staunch. She would make the most of the opportunity and at least delight in breathing free air again. She lazily stepped past H’ruk who lay on the floor, still held in place by Marian’s voice.

  After Mara stepped out, the jailer again closed and locked the cell.

  XII. Gift

  The guard sat lightly dozing with his feet on his desk. The orcs had settled down hours ago and were now silent and still. The guard had trained himself to wake at the slightest sound, should someone ever attempt to come and free whomever he might be holding captive in his cell. But this night, his keen ears would fail him. He did not hear the silent figures enter the building, nor walk silently across the floor. He did not even hear the quiet gurgle of his own throat choking on his own blood as he was thrust through with an orcish blade.

  The four figures lined up in front of the cell. Quietly, they cocked their crossbows and raised them to deadly aims. Not quietly enough. Before they could steady their aims, the four dark figures in the cell shifted slightly. Two scythes came flying from between the bars followed quickly by a sword, large and jagged, and another, slightly smaller. The scythes and small sword embedded themselves in the chests and throats of three of the figures. The fourth was aware enough to dodge the large sword and refocus his aim. His body collapsed, however, at the crack of a wooden staff on the back of his head.

  “Gash, Trogla? Has anyone been struck?” came Mara’s voice out of the darkness.

  “We are not struck,” came Gash’s reply.

  “I cannot see in this shinja darkness. I do not see how you can. Why do these fools have no torch burning?”

  Mara moved carefully over the bodies until she found the jailer’s desk and body.

  “Do not fear. I shall have you out of there in a moment,” she said, searching and finding the keys to the cell. “The captain said that his leader already had soldiers here and they would likely try to kill his men and you. He warned me and told me how I might free you. I am to take you to safety.”

  Mara tried a few different keys and at last found the right one. She opened the door and was instantly met with H’ruk’s hand around her throat.

  “Humun gookla-“

  H’ruk’s words cut sharply into a squeak as Mara’s leg met his groin and the large orc crumpled to the floor.

  “Worthless don-ga!” Mara shouted, kicking him in the chest. “I came to help you!”

  “Mah-ra, stop,” Trogla pleaded, pulling Mara away. “He not know. He think you try kill us also.”

  “Well he had better learn to be my friend before I become his enemy,” she nearly spat at him in reply.

  H’ruk merely returned with a strained groan.

  “Sorry later,” Gash said as he and Grak picked up first their weapons and then H’ruk and began dragging him. “Where is the captain?”

  “He said he would meet us a league north of the town,” Mara replied.

  Without another word, the five of them headed for the door leaving behind five dead soldiers and an empty jail cell.

  ***************

  A league north of town, the farmland turned abruptly into forest. The five had made their way through town as stealthily as possible until they reached the farming fields. After that, they made their way quickly, trading stealth for haste. Once they reached the forest, however, they again slowed their pace and walked carefully through the close-nit trees, trying as best they could to calm their breaths and listen for the captain and his men. H’ruk, limping on his own now, held back his grunts. Gash felt a slap on his shoulder and looked to Grak who was pointing off in a particular direction. Through the darkness and scattered pools of moonlight, Gash could barely make out the outline of a short figure. It looked to him more like a statue. But it was unmistakably Dolanas. All of them moved off into the forest towards the stalwart figure who nodded when they stopped before him.

  “Any of you hurt?” he asked.

  “None,” was Gash’s reply.

  “Good. Captain sent me ahead to meet you. Follow me.”

  Dolanas then turned and headed further into the woods. He led them a good distance from where they had been to a large boulder sticking out of the ground. They rounded the side of it and Dolanas pushed on the face, revealing a short doorway. He stepped through easily, the others following with difficulty. Gash squeezed through to find himself descending a short stair into a circular cavern much more massive than the boulder itself, the inside of which served only as the entryway and narrow ceiling. The cavern was lit by a fire in the center. No, it wasn’t a fire, but a stone sculpture in the shape of a fire that glowed with the same intensity of light and heat. Circling the perimeter of the cavern, beginning and ending at the stair, sat a low shelf, from which rose Marian, a relieved look on her face.

  “Praise the Godking you made it safely,” she said, moving around the fire-stone and embracing Gash.

  She then drew back as the last of them entered the cavern and Dolanas shut the door, rendering it completely hidden save for a small notch on one side.

  “Are any of you hurt?” Marian asked

  Gash shook his head.

  “Just H’ruk,” Mara commented moving past them.

  H’ruk merely growled and sat carefully and painfully upon the ground.

  “Thank you for bringing them safely,” Marian said, turning to Dolanas who was removing his helm, revealing a main of silver-gray.

  “Just doing my duty, Madame,” he said with a nod.

  “I have something for you,” Marian said to Gash before moving back to where she had been sitting. As Gash followed, he saw her pick up from the shelf a long, leather object as well as a small pile of furs, and present them to him.

  “I thought it must be awfully tiring for you to lug th
at monstrous axe around, so I had a strap and holster made for it. I also had a belt fashioned with some furs, as well as an undergarment.”

  Gash took the small assortment in his hands and stared upon them. The holster was a long loop made of leather. For a third of its length, there protruded out from the strap a channel just large enough for the haft of his axe. He could see the inside of the channel lined with some type of dark fur that matched that of the furs upon which the holster lay. The furs themselves were thick and well-made, the leather belt to which they were attached of equal quality.

  Gash stood there, unable to speak or move. It was the first gift he had ever been given. The kindness was so unknown to him, he stood there for long moments, just staring, trying to comprehend Marian’s reasons, her kindness, and the feelings that were welling up uncontrollably inside of him. Was this of what the light elf spoke?

  “Gash?”

  Gash looked up from his trance and felt wetness in his eyes.

  “Are you alright?” Marian asked him.

  He tried to speak but had trouble finding his voice.

  “Not…understand,” his words finally came as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

  He was touched, frustrated, and confused all at once and he felt as if he should go mad, yet was instead being pulled into a warmth and peace he had never known.

  Marian smiled a motherly smile.

  “It’s a gift, Gash,” she told him. “It is something I freely give you that is yours to enjoy. You do not have to earn it or buy it. It is yours and I take joy in giving it to you because I care about you. And that is all the reason anyone needs.”

  Marian cast an uneasy glance at the others. Gash faced away from their eyes, which was fortunate, for she knew the consequences if they saw his tears.

  “Here, let me clean that up,” she said as she reached up and wiped the tears from his face. Her eyes darted deliberately past him and then back to him. Catching the signal, Gash grabbed hold of himself and forced his emotions into check. After a moment, he had settled enough to regain his scowl.

  “There now,” Marian said. “‘A clean face is a joyful face’ as my mother always used to say. Here, let me put this on you.”

  She took the pile from Gash’s hands and set it on the shelf. She then picked up the strap and stepped up onto the shelf. Gash turned around all marks of his change of mood hidden from his expression and assisted as Marian slipped the strap over his head and moved one side under his left arm. Gash felt the leather cling closely to his thick hide. It slid with some resistance as Marian adjusted it.

  “Ah, good!” she said. “I am glad I had your dimensions right. Sir, Dolanas, if you would?”

  Gash turned his head to see Dolanas reach to the shelf beside him, pick up Gash’s weapon with one hand and handed it to the large half-orc.

  “That’s a fine weapon you carry,” he told him. “You care well for it.”

  Gash nodded as he took the weapon. He then raised his weapon up and slid it a bit clumsily into the holster. It slid in easily and halted as the axe head contacted the channel.

  “Ah! Perfect!” Marian said with a smile. “Please, put these on as well. Then turn around and let me see you.”

  As Marian looked towards the ceiling, Gash removed the ragged loincloth that he had borne for so long, took the garments and slipped them on, adjusting the belt for fit. He then turned and stood with the flickering firelight behind him. He stood a formidable sight, the head of his axe sitting cocked just above his right shoulder, the strap running the opposite diagonal of the massive scar that marked the trials through which he had passed and served as a reminder of the mercy he’d been shown. He now bore them both together: mercy upon his breast, grace upon his back. They were the two things he had brought through from the Cursed Land. He had received them both at once, and now they were prominently displayed. He knew he would face many more trials ahead, but never would he be without them.

  “How do they feel?” Marian asked him.

  Gash moved his shoulders and twisted his waste. The strap and belt clung to him, moving with the movements of his body. He drew out the axe and replaced it a few times until he had down its placement. He then turned to the three who had stood in marvel at the awesome sight before them. No longer did he look to them as the derelict half-orc that had risen to power from nothing. Now they saw before them a tribal leader possessed of formidable strength ready to lead his people to victory, ready to destroy any enemy that would stand in his way.

  “Grushkarg!” Trogla shouted as she raised a fist triumphantly in the air. The other two copied her actions. Knowing the word to be the orcish equivalent of “strong”, Gash understood their praise and turned to Marian, nodding his approval.

  “You’re welcome, Gash. Oh! And I had these made as well.”

  She stepped carefully down and brought over two more leather objects. The edges were studded with round dots of metal and from the ends hung straps and buckles.

  “They will help to brace your wrists when you wield your weapon. Hold out your hands.”

  Gash did so and Marian slid the vambraces over his hands and onto his wrists. She then strapped them in place, checking with Gash to ensure they were tight. They fit well and Gash adjusted them for comfort. He could feel the support of the hardened leather covering his wrists and portions of his forearms and backhands.

  “There,” Marian said with a smile. “You are ready to face your enemies from wherever you might face them.”

  Dolanas suddenly stood from his spot on the shelf and took up his halberd. He moved to the door and listened, readying himself to engage some enemy of whom only he was aware. A series of taps sounded on the stone door and Dola at last relaxed his posture. He then slipped his hand into the notch and pulled the door open.

  The captain entered in, followed by most of the troop with which the lot of them had traveled. The intended slaying still fresh in their minds, the orcs all drew their weapons. Gash immediately held up his hand. He then turned to the captain.

  “How do you come?” he asked him for the sake of his kin.

  Joseph looked to the battle-ready orcs.

  “As a friend,” He told them. He then turned to Gash. “We are now enemies of the knights to whom we had previously sworn allegiance. You have nothing to fear from us.”

  Gash nodded and then lowered his hand. He looked to his followers and nodded to them, assuring them. Trogla and Grak slowly lowered and holstered their weapons, their eyes still watching the knights with suspicion. H’ruk did so more reluctantly but kept his weapon in his hand as Dola shut the door.

  Marian noticed a trickle of blood running down Joseph’s arm and rushed to him.

  “Captain, you’re wounded.”

  Joseph looked to his arm and then to Marian.

  “Merely a scratch, lady, I assure you,” he told her. “Please see to my men first, if you would.”

  Marian nodded and quickly did as she was bid as Joseph turned to Gash.

  “I would speak with you.”

  ***********

  After all had been bandaged and seated, the captain stood and looked around at the strange company amongst which he found himself.

  “Men,” he began. “We find ourselves in a strange situation, but not one that was totally unforeseen by those who led us. As many of you know, General Arnett and General Toz had long suspected the treachery that has befallen us. I dare say it is only by the presence of our orc companions and Marian of the Wood’s connection with the townspeople that the treachery was revealed to me in time enough for us to escape a complete slaughter.”

  At the word “companions”, the three orcs looked to each other in mild surprise, muttering words of doubt and wonder in their native tongue.

  “I know what this means for many of you,” the captain continued. “It means just as much for me. You are all loyal men, dedicated to doing what is right and upholding the honor of the Knights of the Realm. However, that name has become a by-word and a na
me of derision. We can no longer bear it.”

  At this, the sad reality set in for the knights. Their faces grew long and some heads fell in grief.

  “But gird yourselves,” their captain continued again. “There will be a time for mourning, both for our comrades and for the name of the Knights of the Realm. But it is not now. For now, we must turn our attention to other matters. Many of you have family still in Dorlain. They must be retrieved from that land before something befalls them. That is our first duty.

  “However the first will be of no use if we do not attend to the second. The orcish armies we faced in the north still exist. According to our new allies, those that crossed the mountains to fight us a week ago would have likely been the first fruits of what is to come. Why the rest have not yet crossed, we do not know. But Gash has assured me that once they do, they will raze all of Sylrin to the ground if they are not stopped. What we saw in the north will be how it is everywhere on this continent and soon all of Sylrin. I do not place my hope in the Knights of the Realm, especially in light of their newfound treachery. They lack your bravery and selflessness. When war comes, they will flee, and they will fail. We must, then, rely on a different force.”

  “Sir,” one spoke up immediately, a white-bearded veteran with a scar running over a closed eye. “What force is there? That I have heard, even in news of distant lands, there is no force like that of the Knights.”

  Others nodded or gave mumbles of agreement with the statement. Joseph waited till the room again quieted before he spoke.

  “You speak truly, Phren. We cannot rely on men. We must turn to such as we have not seen nor heard from in two millennia: the dwarves.”

  The room immediately broke out in murmurs. The orcs each gained a look of disgust.

  “Sir,” one young man stood, one of the few in the room that was not a veteran. “Were not the dwarves all killed? As you say, it has been over two-thousand years.”