The last of her words came out more subdued and shaken. Gash remained silent, listening.
“I wonder at times,” she said in a choked voice, “do you think righteousness and truth exist?”
“You do not believe,” Gash stated.
Mara shook her head and looked down.
“I do not know.”
“Is this the question you spoke of?”
Mara took in a breath.
“In part,” she replied.
“I believe truth exists,” Gash replied. “As for righteousness, if it exists, it is not something we can grab. It must be given by one who is righteous, perhaps by the god of Marian. I know that he is truth.”
Mara was further silent and Gash wondered if she was pondering her earlier conversation with Marian.
“If I want to take my foretold place among my people and the gods,” she said at last, “I must attain righteousness. If I do, I can rule my people, maybe even ascend into the sky right then and there and rule over Maranaria’s children. But even this seems false. I would seek one that has been given righteousness, but what good would it do if none of what I have believed is true?”
Mara wiped more tears from her face.
“Rola bung di nola!” she spouted. “I cannot speak to you like this!”
She got up to leave, but Gash immediately reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Let go of me!” she said, moving to strike him.
She stopped in mid motion in horror and sadness at the action she almost performed. Gash could see in the bright moonlight her heartache shining through her tear-filled eyes. Knowing it as a pain all too familiar, Gash released his grip. Both stared at each other for the briefest of moments, both wishing to apologize. But instead, Mara covered her face in shame and stalked off into the darkness. Gash sat there for some time, contemplating.
He looked back to the three sleeping orcs as Mara’s words circled through his mind. He did still feel resentment towards them, despite their declaration of loyalty. He turned back to face front and wished there might be some way to rid himself of the anger, bitterness, and rage that burned inside of him. His thoughts again turned to the Godking, somehow knowing that he must hold the answer to all these questions. If only he could again speak to the light elf.
Gash’s eyes looked again at the stars and he wondered at Mara’s secret pain. Something moved far off in his peripheral vision and he moved his head to look at a distant hilltop. There, standing in the full moonlight was the delicate form of Lilliandra. She stood waiting there, staring down at him, as if his very thoughts had summoned her. Giving no care to glance behind him, Gash stood and headed directly for her. It took him some time to descend the hilltop upon which they had been resting and to ascend the next atop which Lilliandra stood. But at last, he reached the summit and stood before the beautiful light elf. Her cloak and hair rustled in the gentle wind. Her hair seemed to have taken on a silvery sheen in the moonlight. She stared up at him with compassionate eyes which also seemed to glint with silver, the emerald green having vanished from them. He hoped he was not dreaming.
“How fare you?” she asked him.
Gash glanced back at the other hilltop.
“I do not know,” he replied. “Many things trouble me.”
“Tell me of them. I will listen.”
Gash stared at her a moment. He wondered why she was not reading his heart as she had before.
“Tell me of the Godking,” he told her. “Tell me of this ‘love’ he has for me.”
In the bright moonlight, he could see her lips spread into a smile. Something was in her eyes, he thought; a joy, deeply rooted and now ignited, set on fire by…what, he could not guess. He saw it and a deep longing grew inside of him to know it. He had never known joy, only victory. Nor had he ever known or even understood the sensation of a smile. It was as much a mystery to him as the god of whom this light elf spoke. As of late, Gash’s life seemed more and more to be filled with mysteries. Perhaps, he thought as Lilliandra began to speak, some of them might be solved this night.
“The Godking is truth and in him is no falseness at all. He is merciful and gracious, longsuffering and abounding in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands.
“Though we are fallen and worthy of no good thing, he, in his kindness, has chosen to save many from the fate we ourselves have chosen, that of death and utter hopelessness. He will accomplish this through the Coming One. He will take our death that we might partake of his life. This is his love for us.”
Lilliandra stood staring for long moments afterwards, her eyes lost in some deepness of thought. Gash could see her lips moving, forming inaudible words. Gash too found much to think on. Such were the lady’s words that he found he could scarcely comprehend what she had said. As the two stood there, their thoughts mulling over the words that had been spoken from this light elf’s lips, a single point of question came to Gash’s mind.
“Who is this Coming One?” he asked.
Lilliandra continued staring in silence a moment, before answering, “I am not sure. There is much he reveals to me, that I cannot yet comprehend. There is a prophecy of one who is to come, an heir sent by the Godking. When we become children of the Godking, we partake of his life. But how this Coming One is, in the same way, to partake of our death…I cannot understand that. It is beyond me.”
A little put-off, Gash nonetheless decided to drop the matter. He did not wish to squander his time with her seeking questions to which he felt would be no answers he could understand.
“Tell me of yourself,” he asked her.
Sadness seemed to come over her face.
“What do you wish to know?” she asked him. “Am I sorceress, a daughter of the earth? Do I call forth the lightning by my hand? Do I command the trees to grow and the mountains to move? Does the earth rise or fall at my voice? I have heard these things and many more and it does not surprise me if you have as well. It only saddens and angers me.
“I have done a great many things in this world, but all were by the hand of the Godking. I do not so much as walk or breathe but by his permissive will. And I have stated plainly to all who have seen such fantastic things that it is he who does them and not I myself. Yet some choose to disbelieve because of the blindness of their hearts. Men love the darkness because their deeds are evil. Thus many choose to stay there and be blind to the truth. I am made into some magician, demon, avatar, or god.”
She shook her head.
“I am not any of these, nor have I ever claimed to be. There is but one who gives power and life to all and that is the Godking. He does not share his glory with any. It is his and his alone. I would be a coward and a fool to claim any for myself.”
She looked at him then and he nodded.
“I believe you,” he told her.
“That is a comfort to my heart,” she replied. “Now tell me how I may comfort yours.”
Gash looked at the hilltop. He did not see Mara, only the three sleeping orcs.
“Tell me how these cannot be evil,” he said, looking back to her, “and how I can know it within me.”
“I would do better to show you,” Lilliandra replied. “Come with me.”
She then turned and led him down the slope. They climbed in silence down the hillside and reached the bottom after what seemed like a shorter descent than it should have been. The light elf then began to lead him across the barren plains towards the North River Mountains. Each time he looked, Gash found the forest to be closer than he expected. Looking back, he saw that they had come a great distance in a very short time. He did not understand it, but remembered her words and so followed in silence and trust. After some time, they entered the forest. The trees became dense quickly and it again seemed, though they walked for some hours, that the night progressed much faster and they were soon walking in a forest of thinner trees and brightening twilight.
Lilliandra too seemed to be changing. As the light grew, her hair faded from its silver sheen t
o the faint blonde that he had witnessed at their first meeting. At last, high dawn was upon them and the two emerged from the forest onto a short cliff looking down upon an encampment in a large clearing no more than ten feet below them. Lilliandra stopped there and looked down upon the encampment. Gash followed suit and chanced to look at her eyes. They too had returned to their emerald color, the glint of silver having been chased away by the dawn.
He turned to look at the camp leaving the mystery to be revealed in its own time as he prepared himself for the lesson she would now teach him.
The encampment consisted of several plain-looking tents scattered about in no organized fashion. Near the cliff upon which the two stood lay a circular area of worn ground surrounded by felled logs. Nothing stirred in the camp at first. But as the two watched, there emerged from the tents the hulking figures of orcs. Their scowled faces brought a slight disgust to Gash’s heart, of which he was immediately aware. Words were spoken amongst them that Gash did not recognize, though it was most definitely an orcish tongue. This too he despised and he felt like spitting as he remembered the orcish words passing his lips before. A thought hit him as he stared on at the scene before him and he gave quiet voice to his concern.
“We should get under cover,” he told Lilliandra
“Do not fear,” Lilliandra replied. “We are safe.”
In like-fashion to all he had seen before, Gash saw the orcs with weapons of rough and unhoned natures begin practice swings and exercises, warming themselves for battle. In all their presence and preparation, they somehow seemed not to notice the two standing plainly upon their short precipice. Still, Gash was tense, not wanting to witness the brutality and savagery of orcish combat he knew to be coming. As two gathered in the area of worn ground, the rest gathered on the logs to watch the battle. At this point, Lilliandra spoke.
“Do you notice anything about these orcs?”
Gash observed them a moment, looking for a distinction. There were two things immediately apparent.
“I see no symbol of Grot. And there is no shouting before this challenge.”
“Very good,” Lilliandra replied. She offered no more as they continued to watch.
The two in the center looked at each other and were prepared to start when one from the crowd called out to them. They looked at him and he then yelled in the direction of a particular tent. Gash looked and a moment later observed the fair figure of a dark-haired, human woman emerge from the tent. Draped in white robes, she walked, sleepy-eyed towards the arena, a wrapped bundle in her arms. Without a word, she unwrapped it and began to pass out to the seated orcs slabs of dried meat, which the orcs took with a word or a nod. Once all had some, the one who had shouted stood and began speaking loud into the sky. He finished after a moment and all, including the female, gave the same word of finishing. He then sat down again, signaling the fighters to begin.
All of this Gash found quite peculiar and he watched now with interest, marveling at the manners these orcs held. Still, they were orcs and he saw nothing yet that had dissuaded his heart from the notion that they were evil. Lilliandra said nothing but stood at his side, observing.
The orc who had called the woman at first called her over to sit next to him. She did so obediently and watched the fight alongside of him. Tense at the thought of the woman’s well-being, Gash nonetheless saw nothing immediate happening and so turned his attention to the fight.
The orcs fought well. Their skill was greater than that of Gurak’s clan. Gash assessed though that he could still defeat them in battle if need be. At a particular moment, the two had their swords locked. One shoved the other away and suddenly began attacking more ferociously than he had before, though he dropped any semblance of defense in doing so. Lilliandra leaned in closer to Gash, while still watching the fight.
“These orcs have learned to control the savage nature of your kin,” she told him, “and utilize its advantages to make them more formidable opponents while still maintaining focus and control. They call it dukja. It means ‘savage.’”
Gash watched and indeed saw the match which had previously been even was now very much favored towards the one who savaged. The amount of skill in his attacks was little, but the strength and speed he seemed to gain was great. His opponent quickly fell. The orc brought his weapon down, halting at the voice of the orc who had ordered the woman, whom Gash figured to be the leader.
The victor orc stood over his opponent, his breathing heavy as his body calmed. At last, he dropped his striking pose and to Gash’s amazement, offered a hand to the felled orc. The vanquished one took his hand gladly and was helped to his feet. He was then given a slap on the back by the victor and moved to sit down as the leader rose, exercising his arms. The two took battle positions and again engaged one another. This leader was definitely more skilled and his opponent was soon forced to savage in order that he might simply stay in the fight. But the leader was ready and took the advantage of the orc’s dropped skill to dodge an incoming lunge and strike the orc hard on the back with the flat of his weapon, another action very alien to Gash.
The orc fell at the blow and rolled into two other orcs who laughed and patted the humiliated orc on the shoulders. The crowd gave shout and the leader walked over, helped his opponent to his feet and sent him hobbling out of the arena to sit down. The leader then pointed his sword at two others and the two rose and entered the ring.
The leader walked towards the human with a determined look. Her back was to Gash and though he could not see her face, he could see her shift nervously. The leader stood staring down at her comparatively small form. Suddenly, he thrust his weapon into the ground and lunged for her. The woman yelped. Gash moved to intercept them but was halted by Lilliandra.
Then a sound he had not expected entered his ears. It was laughter. And it was coming from the human’s silvery voice. The leader twirled her about and Gash could see a wide smile on her face. Gash stared more confused than he had ever been. He glanced at Lilliandra whose face also held a pleasant smile.
“This is the clan of Thornblade,” Lilliandra spoke, knowing Gash’s confusion. “They live on a continent across the ocean from your clan. I came upon them some years ago whilst I wandered the wood. Only recently did the Godking bring me to them again.
“They are a peaceful clan of orcs who broke with the main line of your continent long ago and came here to settle far from the evil of the orcs you know. They still revel in battle, but they use it to defend and protect, not to dominate. The one giving the orders is Juk, their leader. The human is Luna. She is a servant of the Godking who happened upon this clan just before I did. They were worshippers of the Godking before they met her. They desired to know him and so he sent her to them to reveal himself and his nature to their eyes. Shortly thereafter, all came to knowledge of the Godking and what savagery still existed in their hearts was slowly erased. Now it exists only as a tactic for fighting those that would seek to do harm to others.”
Flabbergasted, Gash found himself barely able to speak. “Why…why does she and Juk…”
“Have you not guessed?” Lilliandra asked him. “They are mates.”
Gash looked at Lilliandra, thoroughly confused.
“Why do you find it so strange, Gash?” the light elf asked him. “Can the love of the Father not exist between two despite their differences? Or is it that you are so used to the concept of an un-orc that such a union escapes you? Shortly after her arrival, Juk took an interest in Luna. Indeed, when she watched the fights, he was her favorite. The two came to love one another and he took her as his mate. And she went willingly and happily.”
All this Lilliandra said with a smile. She delighted in the story and in the scene before her. Even through his confusion, Gash could see this.
“Look,” she instructed him.
Gash turned to look back at the crowd. Orclings had come out and were sitting by their parents. Juk and Luna sat now, watching two children enter and begin battling. They finished
dueling after a short time and exited. One then entered from the far side of the arena and another rose from a spot in front of Luna. Gash watched this one whose back was turned to him as he drew his sword.
“The one from in front of Luna is Grunk,” Lilliandra told Gash. “He is Juk’s son.”
The two youths engaged one another and Gash quickly marked out Grunk’s skill as superior to his opponent’s. The two turned in their fight, and the opponent savaged, charging at Grunk. Grunk defended, being pushed back, but staying focused. Gash observed his face and started. His jaw went slack and he took a step forward.
“He is a half-orc!” he exclaimed.
“Yes,” Lilliandra said. “He is also Luna’s son and he is the most skilled in the tribe for his age. His mother calls him Grunkorian and has given him her last name of Dalentries. Because of her gentle nature, he has found himself unable to savage as the rest of the youths do. But his mind is also more focused and he continuously hones his skill to a level that exceeds that of his orc kin.”
The two continued their fight as Lilliandra spoke. The savage orc attacked. Grunk dodged and copied his father’s move. But the orc was too fast and he caught the sword by the blade. He then turned, a balled fist flying at Grunk’s head. Grunk attempted to halt it with his hand but instead found his own hand impacting his face with all the force of the orc’s punch behind it. Grunk went rolling on the ground. The orc came charging after him. Grunk leapt to his feet and at the last moment, caught the orc’s swing, grabbed his sword strap, rolled back and flipped the orc backwards, the orc’s momentum throwing him further than Grunk’s strength alone would have allowed. The orc slammed into two adults. Grunk rolled to his feet and faced his opponent, ready for a recoil. But the youth did not stand, but lay on top of an adult, wailing.
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