Half-Orc Redemption

by Luke T Barnett

  The grumbling resumed with a few gasps and shouts of treason. Merd held up a hand, quieting the crowd.

  “And why do you bear their armor, brother?” he asked.

  “Fate brought to my care a young man who’s father was a Knight of the Realm killed in battle. I became a second father to him and taught him the ways of honor, the ways of a true knight and a dwarf. He desired greatly in his heart to join the Knights as his father had. I could not sway him from it. To ensure he remained in the ways I had taught him, I joined as well. Together we found many who had come into the knighthood that were honorable and brave and regretted the actions of their forbearers against our kindred. Everyone else I’m afraid had deserted what little honor the knights had previously held and were now totally corrupt. It was their hand that sent the noble six-thousand to their deaths.

  “The remnant of us that escaped would have all been dead in a second encounter, were it not because of one who came into our midst just after our escape. It is because of him that I stand before you now. It is his bravery and selflessness that allowed me and those few with me to live. I have brought him here as one worthy of the dwarves.”

  “Well let’s see him, then,” cried an elderly dwarf near the front. “Enough of this build-up. Bring the dwarf forth and let us honor him for his service.”

  Dola turned back to the tunnel.

  “Gash.”

  Dola then turned and faced his kin as a shuffling sounded behind him. A green hand appeared out of the darkness as Gash gripped the side of the entrance. The eyes of the dwarves widened and their weapons became battle-ready in their hands as Gash’s towering form stepped from the shadows and stood to his full height. Dolanas stood ready to hold back his kindred should they decide to rush. They were far too stunned, however, to do anything but stare.

  “Dola,” Merd managed to utter, “that is an orc!”

  “You figured that out, did you?” Dola responded.

  “What madness is this?” Merd shouted at his elder brother. “Have you no love for your home that you would commit such a vile trespass?”

  “Stone your tongue, Merd!” Dola rebuked him. “Or have you heard nothing I have said? Gash has proven himself worthy of the dwarves. I have witnessed it myself. Not once since I brought him here has, he made any action against me nor even took step without my word. He fought against his own kin, slaying at least fifty by my count of a horde of the beasts and saving the lives of myself and those I fought with. He despises his kin almost as much as we. He is our ally.”

  “He is an orc!” Merd shouted.

  “Half-orc!” Dolanas shouted back. “And a dwarf-friend.”

  Merd’s shock only grew at the statement.

  “Madness!” was all he could manage. “This is madness! I will not stand for this travesty! I will no-”

  Merd reeled as he felt a force impact his cheek. He blinked and saw Dolanas standing there, his hand in the air. It was then Merd truly understood his elder brother to be deadly serious. His shock melted into a low fuming.

  “All-right, brother,” he said after a time. “You say this is true. Prove it to us. Or earth help you, Dolanas, because I will only consider you senile and no more of a sound mind. And we will not hesitate to cleanse our home of this abomination.”

  Dolanas did not shift his gaze but merely reached back an open palm.

  “Gash,” he instructed the half-orc, “lend me your axe.”

  Bewildered, but nonetheless obedient, Gash reached up and grabbed the haft of his axe. The dwarves braced themselves, ready for an attack. Gash glanced at them a moment, and then slowly slid his axe from its holster. Without adjusting his grip, he slowly flipped it and landed the end of the haft in Dolanas’ outstretched hand. Dolanas turned the weapon on its head and placed it before his kin.

  “His axe carries the mark of a dwarf-friend. There, just under the left blade.”

  Merd and those who could see looked down at Gash’s weapon a moment and then back up to Dolanas.

  “This one carries the weapon of a dwarf-friend,” he called back to the rest of the group. “He must have taken it from a dwarf-friend he killed.”

  “You know as well as I that such a thing cannot occur without the killer himself being killed before long and the weapon passes into another’s hands,” Dolanas retorted. “That very thing happened to the orc that previously wielded it, by Gash’s hand. As I’ve said, I have seen him use it extensively, and his actions make him worthy to be called such. So I call him and, as is our way, so he is named.”

  Dolanas then handed Gash’s weapon back to him. Gash slid the weapon back into his holster and waited for what was next. The dwarves stood there for long moments, muttering amongst themselves. Someone whispered into Merd’s ear, and he looked back to Dolanas.

  “You are certain the orcs have united. What is their number?” he asked, now more calm.

  “At least thirty-thousand strong,” Dolanas replied.

  “And our allies are a half-breed orcling and a handful of Knights of the Realm. I see now why you did not light the brum, nor came to meet us. This is a heavy thing that we must consider. These others, do they wait in the hall of Mul Krün?”

  “They do.”

  Merd nodded.

  “Take the…half-orc there and wait for us. We will come to you when we have decided if we should aid the world of men or sleep again until the world restores itself anew.”

  “Make haste,” Dolanas instructed. “The longer we delay, the more the orcs will triumph.”

  “You have our word,” Merd stated.

  Dola nodded and turned, motioning Gash back into the tunnel. Gash cast a last glance at Merd and the dwarves, all of whom stood staring at him, hatred burning in their eyes.

  When they had again entered the vast, dark maze, Gash spoke.

  “What is a dwarf-friend?”

  “Someone who has so proven himself in valor or shown such kindness to dwarves that he is considered a dwarf himself. It is why you were allowed to come and the rest were not.”

  “You risked much by bringing me.”

  “They needed to understand the seriousness with which I took your status. They would have been more hesitant to believe me had I left you with the others.”

  “Will they help?”

  “I cannot say.”

  Dolanas offered no more and so Gash fell into silence as he followed him through the darkness, a deep sense of honor for Dolanas and his words filling him.

  XV. Mission

  Gash sat upon a cliff on the plateau outside the Hall. The nighttime stars shone brightly overhead. It was late summer and the mountain air was unusually warm. He had always been more comfortable in the open air. With all he had learned about his status and his weapon, he needed some place to go and think and so had immediately headed for the outside plateau that Dolanas had previously named. Now he sat staring at the underside of his axe. The small symbol that marked his weapon as that of a dwarf-friend lay etched into the metal of the blade. Questions arose in his mind. Where had Gurak gotten this axe? How had he wielded it for so long and not been killed? Was it the weapon that killed him or was it merely an instrument of judgment that the Godking had chosen in ironic justice for the atrocities the brute had committed? And why had he then entrusted it to Gash?

  Gash’s mind sparked in thought of some greater purpose for his life. And suddenly, Lilliandra’s words and those of the plainsman came to him.

  You yet have much purpose, Gash. Your purpose did not end with Gurak’s death. If it had you would have died there upon that ground. Yet you live.

  I think that he must have something more in store for you, or he would not have done it and he would not have left you that scar.

  Gash again ran his hand along the massive scar that spanned his chest. He wondered silently what was before him and what this Godking had purposed for his life.

  “Where does your mind go?”

  Gash looked over to see Mara seated next to him, staring at hi
m with concern in her eyes. He had been so lost in thought, he had not heard her approach. The human female was small and lithe especially when compared to him. Yet the fire that blazed within her and the wild spirit with which she fought and conducted herself made Gash feel as if she were more akin to him than any of the others, his followers included. His heart was comforted by her presence and he felt no need for defenses when he spoke with her. Rather, he felt a need to be strong for her sake, yet he was at the same time able to be vulnerable. He valued her companionship and so spoke to her with all depth of heart.

  “My purpose,” he replied softly. “Where does yours?”

  In the starlight, he thought he observed her face redden; yet he could not be sure. Mara glanced behind them to ensure they were alone and then looked back to Gash.

  “To you,” she spoke just as quietly, “I must admit, that I have grown fond of you, Gash.”

  They way she spoke and her body language were strange. And yet, there was something familiar about them. Out of nowhere, his mind recalled the affection a female orc would show to a male just before they chose to mate and he instantly made the connection. An oddly questioning look came upon his face and he straightened. Mara could apparently see his reaction well enough, for her eyes widened and she held up her hands.

  “No, no! Not like that!” she said quickly. “I just…I just meant that…I know that Trogla and Grak, and even H’ruk are your kindred. But…I have come to feel a deep kinship for you. I have not met one from the wild as you are since leaving my home. I have been with you almost a cycle of the moon and I have gained a great respect for you. I…truly feel…that you are my kindred.”

  She gave a half-laugh at her next statement.

  “I cannot explain it. It is as if we were intended to be born together from the same womb, but were instead born separate. I would ask…if you would…that you would allow me to name you among my family. And that when we are finished with whatever it is we are to face, I have fulfilled my vow to you, and I have solved the question that is before me, that you would come with me to my home to meet the rest of my family.”

  She stared at Gash, smiling a genuine smile of friendship. Gash sat speechless and breathless. Twice now in the span of two days, he had been honored far beyond what he considered himself worthy. His emotions desired to well up inside him and burst him into tears. Yet he held them in check with what little strength he could muster for Mara’s sake. A little slack-jawed, he managed to give her a confirming nod.

  “Thank you, Gash!” Mara said, throwing her arms around him.

  She immediately pulled back and attempted to compose herself.

  “Um…do not tell anyone I did that,” she instructed him. “I do not want the others to think me less of a warrior, understood?”

  Gash nodded.

  “Good,” Mara said with a slight smile.

  The two then looked back out before them. Something clicking in his mind, Gash turned to Mara.

  “What question before you?” he asked her.

  Mara dropped her smile and her face seemed to go pale.

  “G’uar!”

  The two turned around to see Grak standing some distance away.

  “He comes.”

  The two stood and moved to follow Grak into the cavern. Gash stopped Mara and looked at her.

  “We speak of this later?” he asked her.

  The same look on her face as before, Mara hesitated and then reluctantly nodded. Gash nodded back and they proceeded into the cavern.

  The three of them along with Trogla and H’ruk who had been sleeping elsewhere on the plateau entered the hall just as the stone doors shut and Dolanas greeted his brother.

  The dwarf looked around the chamber and viewed the many figures that filled it. His eyes stopped on Gash and his troop as Dolanas stepped to his side. A tone of anger in his voice, he spoke in his native tongue.

  “You didn’t tell me there were three more of them,” he said.

  “What’s the decision?” Dolanas asked, still speaking in the common tongue.

  Merd lingered a moment on the orcs and then looked to his brother.

  “Is this your company?” he asked, speaking in common.

  Dola nodded and began to introduce those present.

  “This is Joseph Caldris, former captain of the Knights of the Realm. He’s the young man I told you about. He also I have named dwarf-friend.”

  Merd turned to Dolanas.

  “Have you named everyone in the party a dwarf-friend?” he shot at his brother. “I suppose the lady here-“ at this he gestured to Marian “-is one because she tended to your wounds after some battle where your halberd was too slow.”

  “Actually, master dwarf,” Marian replied. “I was so named by someone other than Sir Dolanas.”

  All heads turned to look at her at her statement. Merd simply put his head in his hand.

  “Uh…this is Marian of the Wood,” Dola continued. “She aided us on our flight from the orcs. This is Lieutenant William Jopher, Lieutenant Phren Deluge, Sergeant Thomas Ballister, and their men, all former Knights of the Realm.

  “Gash you know. This is his companion Mara of the tribe of Dura-Din and his followers Grak, Trogla, and H’ruk.”

  Merd’s eyes lingered on the orcs.

  “Listen up,” he stated finally, turning to the group. “Our people have counseled and agreed to help the world of men. However, if this force is as Dolanas has reported to me, it will take more than we who rest in this mountain. A messenger has already been dispatched to our brethren in Valencia. But it may take them some months to arrive. In the mean time, we need to get a fresh assessment of the orcs’ numbers, their organization, their position, everything, so we may know where to meet them in battle.”

  “Our thanks to you, master dwarf, and to your people,” Joseph said. “There would be no hope for Sylrin without you. We are all ready to face this menace alongside you.”

  “That is good,” Merd stated. “We will need every skilled hand we can get.”

  “We’ll leave immediately and-“

  “We will go,” Gash interrupted the captain.

  Everyone but Mara and the orcs looked to him.

  “Ha!” Merd mocked him. “Knew you couldn’t resist the opportunity to run and warn your scum-bred kin. You really think we would let you walk out of this mountain alive?”

  That prompted growls from the orcs and readied weapons from them and Mara.

  “Worthless don-ga!”

  “Try and stop us, un-orc!”

  “Blugard sharkar, gooklak!”

  Gash merely held out an arm, silencing them as he glared at Merd.

  “You honor your kin?” he asked him.

  Merd did not answer, but merely glared back. Gash drew his axe slowly from its sheath.

  “You have ways I do not know, ways you honor. I have attempted to honor them as well, though I do not know them. But they have ways as well that they and I must honor. The orcs cannot be allowed to destroy Sylrin. They know this in their hearts. Only orcs who follow Grot do not see this. This, these three have told me. They follow me and they do not lie. They must see this army for themselves, or they cannot believe it has happened. Such a thing is as wretched as it is impossible, even to an orc. Such knowledge, such…things…are in our blood and I cannot explain it to you more. They…we…have ways that you do not know. As I have honored your ways, show yourself worthy and honor ours. Or at least, honor your own.”

  He then tossed his axe towards Merd. It landed with a clang and slid across the stone floor, coming to rest near the dwarf’s feet. Merd stared at Gash a moment in silence. All in the chamber stood tense. At last, the dwarf squatted down and picked up the weapon. Taking his eyes off Gash, he ran his thick fingers along the haft, then the blades, examining the weapon as only a master craftsman would. His fingers came to rest upon the rune that marked the blade as the weapon of a dwarf-friend and his eyes looked back to Gash. He then took the axe in a two-handed grip and s
wung it, testing its weight and balance. He swung it as though he were practicing a well-rehearsed kata. Flashes of his face could be seen as he moved, showing his eyes to be closed. His movements flowed in flawless form and all watched as the dwarf danced with a sense of reverie unfamiliar to them. He ended swinging the axe up and bringing it down, the head stopping inches from the floor. He then opened his eyes and straightened.

  Seemingly satisfied, he walked back over to Gash and offered him the weapon. Gash reached out and gripped the haft, but paused, seeing Merd had not relinquished his grip. The two stood there, silently staring at one another.

  “If you want to honor our ways,” said Merd, “you’ll treat this axe with more respect.”

  Though his words were not hostile, his tone was dark and challenging. He then released his grip and began rubbing his hands, as though he was attempting to sooth them from the strain of having to relinquish the weapon. His eyes glanced to the orcs and to Mara before settling back on Gash.

  “You may go,” he said. “See the army if you must. But you will be watched. Do not fail to come back and report…or your life will be forfeit.”

  He then glanced once more at the others and turned away, still rubbing his hands. Gash did not linger on him but instead, turned, sheathed his axe, and headed for the side entrance that led to the outside.

  “Come,” he said, passing the other three. “We gather food, eat, and rest. Next night comes, we leave.”

  All three orcs and Mara cast angered glances at Merd before turning and following Gash into the tunnel. Dolanas walked over to Merd.

  “You walk a fine line with me, little brother,” he told him.

  Merd gave him a sideways look.

  “You have already crossed it with us, Dolanas,” he shot back. “Tell me what you’ve learned in your recent battles with these orcs.”

  ***************

  Gash and the others had emerged from the mountain to discover the sun beginning to rise. The air was still warm for mountain air and the sky was clear and blue. They spent the first half of the day hunting the mountain goats. With Marian’s aid, they had them skinned and some cooked by late afternoon. They ate and slept upon the plateau, their hands upon their weapons. Merd’s hostility burned away in indignation any comfort they might have had and from that moment they had kept themselves on guard against any treachery.