“You’re human too though, right?” she asked him.
Gash nodded.
“Then the Godking must have used your human half to make your orc half nice,” Lum hypothesized.
Gash continued in silence, pondering this as Lum continued.
“Father used to tell me how he was half-Lukrushian and half-Southerner. He said…what’s wrong?”
Gash had stopped walking and was staring intently ahead. Lum looked ahead and then to Gash.
“Do you hear something?” she whispered.
“Orcs,” Gash replied in a low voice. “Coming this way. Hide in bushes. Over there.”
A panicked look on her face, Lum rushed over to large grouping of bushes and squatted down. She watched through the mesh of tiny branches as Gash drew his axe and waited. The trees were too thin for him to hide behind and so he was forced to wait until the orcs came closer.
They did come closer, spotting him not long after he had drawn his axe. Cautiously they approached until they were within a stone’s throw. There were three of them, each with the symbol of Grot painted in blood in different places on their bodies. Cautiously, rough, jagged weapons in their hands, they moved in and surrounded Gash. Gash made no move against them, but stood with his axe head resting on the ground, his weapon in a one-handed grip, his eyes set on the figure in front of him.
“What do you do here, half-blood?” the lead one spoke in the orcish tongue. “And where is your clan?”
Gash recognized the words, but there was a savagery there that did not exist in the tongue that he had learned.
“Broken,” Gash replied in their tongue. “I am called half-blood no longer. I am g’uar. You wish to challenge me?”
The lead one looked to the others and then to the scar that lay across Gash’s chest. He then spit on the ground.
“I don’t care what you say or what scar you have or what test you passed. You are a half-blood. I smell human nearby and it is not you. Tell me where is the human and swear allegiance to Grot and maybe I’ll kill you.”
Gash merely raised his axe to a two-handed grip, holding it horizontal in front of him. This prompted growls from the three orcs.
“You dare to threaten us with slaughter, half-blood?” the leader said.
“You follow a fool of a god,” Gash replied. “You will not take this land. Grot will lead you only to destruction. Leave this place. Return to the Northlands. You may yet find mercy from the Godking.”
The leader growled deeply.
“You dare blaspheme the name of Grot?” he spat. “You are the fool! As long as Grot lives, nothing of these lands will! And you and your god shall be the start!”
The leader then charged with a roar. His swing was wide and slow and Gash easily dodged and brought his axe into the monster’s belly. He then half-turned and kicked the charging second in the stomach, pulled his axe from the leader’s gut, swung it around and cleaved through the third’s gut. Using the momentum he had gained, he then swung the axe up and brought its head down into the skull of the recovered second. The monster fell face-first to the ground, forcing the axe out of his skull and spilling blood upon the forest floor.
Gash looked around, making sure that all three were dead. He then walked over to the bushes and found Lum huddled with her eyes scrunched tight, her lips moving rapidly, though no words came forth. Gash called to her and she opened her eyes and looked up fearfully, her breaths raspy and quick. Upon seeing him, she immediately reached out and hugged his leg.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” she said.
She then released him and looked to the orcs now lying dead in the grass. She walked from Gash and amongst the stinking bodies. She came to the leader and knelt beside him. Gash noted he was still breathing, his breaths shallow and fading. Lum stroked his matted hair and looked at his eyes.
“The Godking will forgive you, if you ask him,” she said to him.
Blood trickled from his mouth as it moved to form quiet words. Lum bent down to hear what he was saying. After a moment she straightened and Gash noted the orc’s breathing had stopped. Gash stepped up beside her. Lum looked up at him.
“What does ‘uk-brach’ mean, Gash?” she asked him.
“’Curse your god,’” Gash replied.
Lum looked back at the fallen orc and simply sat there, staring at him.
“They never listen,” she said at last.
“Who?”
“Anyone,” Lum replied sadly.
Reaching down, Gash took the little girl’s hand, lifted her to her feet and led her away from the battle scene.
**********
Knowing there would be more orcs if they stayed close to the mountains, Gash and Lum left the forest and began moving north-west. Gash kept his eyes on the Bent Mountain as they walked and watched out for any signs of more orcs. He still hoped Lilliandra would appear. Lum still did not show any further signs of sickness, though her breaths were still raspy. They continued north-west for a few more days, Gash carrying Lum as much as she could stand it. He felt tired and stretched, not having slept a full night since leaving the Valley of the Maw. He was reluctant to stop and rest, what with their encounter in the woods and the mountain of the orcs growing closer by the day.
The fourth day brought them upon the Dry Hills. Lum was unrestrainable wanting to climb the rocky hills. Gash allowed her and together the two climbed up to the top of one of the smaller mounds. From their vantage point, Gash could see that they were almost parallel with the Bent Mountain. The sea of green and brown ebbed and flowed around the base of the mountain. It seemed to Gash that its size had grown, though he couldn’t quite tell due to their distance. He could see beyond them, the North River Mountains and the comparatively narrow gap in the range in front of which the Bent Mountain sat. He could hear distant rumbling, as a tumbling of many rocks. The orcs were hard at work widening the pass to make a way to drag their accursed mountain with them. Gash knew he needed to get back to the dwarves, but he could not abandon Lum. Now, at least, he knew he had time.
He looked down at his feet to find that Lum was not there. He turned around several times, his eyes moving further out as he turned, searching for the little girl. He didn’t see her anywhere. He called out to her as he spun around again. She did not answer. He frantically called to her again, louder this time, and again received no answer. He moved to the edges of the hill trying to see if she had fallen, or for some sign of where she had gone. What if some orcs or some other being had come and snatched her away right under his nose? No, he would have seen that or heard that. Was he too distracted by the orcs? What if she had fallen and broken something? Wouldn’t she be crying? What if-
The slight sound of stone rapping against stone entered his ears and he immediately turned and headed down a particular side of the hill. There at the bottom, he found Lum sitting in a gully, one hand clutching her chest, the other rapping a large stone onto another. Her breathing was raspy and shallow, her eyes wide as she struggled for breath.
Reaching the frightened little girl, Gash gently took her into his arms and held her close. He could feel her wheezing breaths against his chest. Her little hands clutched at his skin. Despite the fear coursing through them both, Gash knew he needed to be calm for her sake. He sat there for what seemed like an eternity, the only sound being her raspy breathing. After some time, he noticed her breaths were smoother and more drawn out. Her hands were not clutching his skin in deathgrips. He looked down to find her sleeping in his arms.
Gash did not know what to do. His nerves were still shot, first from thinking he had lost her, and then to fearing he would lose her right then and there in his arms. His heart broke for her. He found tears forming in his eyes and he began almost unconsciously stroking her hair. How could he save her? He had to save her. He had to find a way. He had to find Lilliandra.
Standing, he re-wrapped her in the animal hide as she unconsciously re-adjusted in his arms. He then gathered his nerves, made his way out of the
gully, and again headed north.
Eventually, the two traveled far enough north that they encountered another range of mountains running east to west and stretching beyond their vision. Determined to find Lilliandra, Gash carried Lum into the mountains. He had not seen a pass or a dwarven road and so they were forced to make their way as best they could across the mountains. The air became colder as they climbed higher. Often, Gash would have Lum hold onto his neck so his hands would be free to climb. He kept her wrapped in the animal hide. She complained often, but he knew he could not risk her breathing the cold air. The days seemed to pass one after another in unceasing doldrums. Gash became increasingly exhausted. Near sunset one day, (though he had no idea anymore how long it had been), Gash found himself stumbling through field of snow. He struggled to keep his eyes open, even in the bitter cold. His steps swayed as he would nod off for a second and then jerk awake again, only to feel his eyelids falling once more. He knew they needed to stop. He knew he needed to sleep. But there was no place except to stay in the frigid cold and freeze to death. But he knew he could not give up and so he kept moving, kept looking, and kept struggling with sleep until just before the last light faded from the sky his ragged eyes spotted a cave a distance off. He stumbled forward, forcing his wracked limbs onward. He swerved this way and that as he attempted to maintain his direction. Somehow, through the daze of waking and sleep, he at last found himself inside the darkness of the cave. Still he pushed himself to keep going until he could feel more temperate air surrounding him. At last giving in, he slid to his backside, lie down, and instantly feel asleep.
**********
Gash awoke to a horrid sound. He sat up in the darkness and heard the sound again and recognized it as the sound of someone vomiting. The rancid smell of bile and blood was in the air. He groped in the darkness for Lum and found her hunched over a couple feet from where he sat. He wrapped her up in his arms and held her in her position until her fit had ceased. And then he held her longer.
“I’m sorry…I woke you up,” she said weakly.
Gash could not reply. He could only hold her close. His heart broke for her. He hated to think of her sick and he being powerless to help her. He had to get her some help. They had to get moving again.
Holding her close, Gash rose and made his way back the way they had come. The air became cooler and the light around them slowly grew. At last they stepped out into the frigid mountain air and Gash looked around.
The air was crisp and cold and it woke him fully. The sky was clear and the sun shown distantly down upon them. Before them, spreading north, east, and west was an endless forest of mountains, their snow-covered peaks stretching to unseen distances. Back south, beyond the few peaks and crags that partially obstructed his view, the North River Mountains, looking quite different than when they had walked alongside them, stretched out before them in a jagged line running south-west. Amidst them, in the distance, stood the bent peak of the mountain of the orcs. It did not appear as if it had moved since he last looked upon it from the Dry Hills. On either side of the North River Mountains, lining its length, was spread a forest that thinned as it reached the arid turf of the Dry Hills on the west, and gave way to grassy highlands on the east. Beyond the highlands lay the ocean, just visible through the peaks of the many mountains that surrounded them. Several paces from them to their left was a precipice. Beyond it, the land seemed to dip before distantly returning to the mountain sea that surrounded them. The odd sight moved Gash to curiosity and he moved to the precipice to look down.
Before him was spread a rich valley of green. Pine trees filled it from edge to edge, punctured by clearings of lush, green grass. A river coursed along in a crooked line off-center. Various animals could be seen walking or running amongst the trees. It was a paradise cradled in the midst of a mountain wasteland.
Gash was hesitant to stop or divert from moving north. But the reality was that their food was running low and they needed a place to rest and recoup, if only for a short while. The thin air of the mountains, Gash was sure was not doing Lum any good either. He turned and swept his eyes across the mountain landscape north, hoping to see Lilliandra’s form pop into view. Seeing nothing, he reluctantly turned back to the valley and settled his heart to find a way down.
As soon as he had stepped onto the short cliff, Gash had noted that the ground and even the snow did not feel cold. In fact, there was a slight warmth to it. Gash knelt down and scooped a handful of the snow. He looked at it closely and felt it run between his fingers. He did not know what sort of substance the stuff was, but it was most definitely not snow, though it felt the same. Grains of sand, perhaps? But why here unless it was purposeful in order to disguise the cliff? Gash looked down over the edge. The mountain went steeply down for several leagues and he could see no path until far below. Until that point, it looked to be painfully hazardous to climb. But the false snow had made him wonder and now he searched the sides of the cliff for handholds. Low, he found one. He searched more and found another. Telling Lum to hold on to him, he turned around and moved down the side, gripping the handholds he had found. His feet looked for a place to rest and each found holds for themselves amidst the rock, though they seemed to be oddly placed. He groped for the next lowest hand-hold and found one much farther up than he had anticipated. Nonetheless he moved his hand to it and then searched and found another, again finding it in an oddly close location. His feet searched with the same result and before long, he had found the pattern and was making his way down the cliff which seemed to grow warmer as he descended. He found the handholds to have been made for someone of much shorter stature than he, but of equal girth.
After a few minutes, he reached the bottom and found himself standing on a level surface of stone that warmed his feet. Now that he stood in the midst of it, he could see plainly before him the path that seemed to stretch forward a ways and then wind around and downward.
Gash looked down at Lum. There appeared to be some dried blood on her lip. Her eyes looked slightly sunken, and Gash’s worry grew.
“Do you want to walk?” he asked.
“Is it cold?” she asked in a dry voice, for even she had noticed the slight warmth in the air around her.
Gash shook his head and then set her down on the warm ground. Lum took a few, shaky steps forward and then sunk to her knees.
“Gash, my legs feel shaky,” she said.
“I will carry you,” Gash replied.
He then picked the little girl up again and began walking along the path. As they descended, the air grew steadily warmer until it was as though along the path, time had reversed and it was high-summer with the sun high over-head. But every now and again, a chilled breeze would blow past them, reminding them of their elevation.
Lum was silent as they traveled, looking long across the wide landscape stretched out before them. Gash looked at her often to see her condition. Her lack of speech and the dryness of her voice worried him. His thoughts turned inward as he walked, his mind going to Lum’s mother and father and how highly she spoke of them. Her parents had shown great care for her, instructing her and chastising her regularly, but not torturing or even delighting in her chastisement. They had directed her learning and shaped her character for the better. Gash wondered if Lum talked so much because that is what she used to do with them and she missed it. Something tugged at his heart and he realized that he too longed to relate his innermost thoughts and burdens to another for whom he held great respect. Was this what a mother and father did? Was this why Lum talked of them so? No, he was certain it was something more. But what he could not say and so his mind went back to his own longing, searching it out to understand it and in some small way console himself concerning it, though it be in self-pity.
His mind went from this to what his lot had fallen to in life and what purpose this Godking held for him. He did not doubt the words of those he had encountered; Lilliandra, Marian, or the plainsman. But he held no answers, and this troubled him. The f
uture seemed afar off and un-seeable. Were it an enemy he could see plainly, though their strength be as the mountains, he would have no fear, for he would plainly see what lie before him and could so prepare himself for it. But with this he could not. It was an open cliff with several bridges and he felt as if he knew not which one to take, nor was there anyone to show him, nor to guide him along the way.
An intake of breath drew Gash’s attention to the little girl now sleeping in his arms. He held her close as he continued to walk and suddenly realized they were near to the ground and the day had almost gone. Feeling wearied, but having no will to stop just yet, Gash opted to keep moving, not quite aware of his direction, but having little fear of what lay ahead in the forest. Of one thing he was certain: he needed to help the small creature cradled in his arms. She needed him and, strange though it seemed to him, he needed her as well.
XX. Fate
The valley was indeed rich and fertile. Dense foliage covered the ground despite the thick tree cover and the constant bed of dried pine needles. Birds of lovely song and brilliant colors fluttered through the trees and soared overhead. Occasionally, Gash would see a deer before it caught wind or sight of him and bounded away into the forest. Before long, he found himself on what might have once been a beaten path, long overgrown with shrubbery. He looked ahead and saw what looked like a cabin hidden away amongst the trees. Gash decided to make for it. Perhaps someone lived there that might be able to help them, he thought, or perhaps it was Lilliandra’s cabin. It seemed to him to be a likely place for her; secluded in a forest of beauty amidst a mountain waste. He did not expect to find her there. He hoped he might, nonetheless.
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