Gash hobbled at a quickened pace towards the enormous cart and the mountain that sat upon it. His steps were lopsided and waddling. His eyes stared straight forward. His back was more hunched than usual. He held Mara on his shoulder with one hand and drug her staff and his axe in its holster behind him with the other. He could feel her back muscles tensing and releasing beneath his grip. He knew the blood he had smeared on her was itching her. She hadn’t liked the thought of his blood on her in the first place. But it had been necessary to make her look more like a corpse than a captive. Her arms dangled limply behind him. She was playing the part well. He hoped he was doing as good a job. He could do nothing about the fine furs he wore, nor his scar, but at least the furs were somewhat torn from his fall in the mountains and most would not look directly at him to see his scar.
Mara hung tense from Gash’s shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her face was towards Gash’s back. But the fact that she could not see the many orcs surrounding them made things worse for her. She tried to remain loose and not tense her muscles. But every time an orc came near she had to fight the panic and warrior instincts within her to keep from tensing up.
“Uk! Jootka!”
Gash halted in his steps and looked around, as if he did not know where the sound had come from. Mara tensed at Gash’s halt. What was wrong? Had they been spotted? Her body tensed and refused to relax.
“Jootka me dok boopkiks!”
Mara knew that if she did not relax her muscles, they would be discovered. She forced her body to obey, forced her mind to focus on the breeze of the plains of her home and not think about the eminent danger in which they found themselves.
Gash turned to see an orc larger than himself standing by a siege weapon, staring at him. Gash moved in his direction. He felt Mara stiffen for several moments, but finally relax again. When he approached the orc, he saw that the siege engine was sitting on a corner, its large wheel lying on the ground beside it. A smaller orc stood next to the wheel.
“Lift up this rock-thrower and hold it until I tell you to stop,” the larger orc said in orcish as he pointed to the siege engine.
Dropping his axe and Mara’s staff, Gash moved to the un-wheeled corner, bent down, and began to lift. It was extremely difficult. Not only was the siege engine heavy, but he was at the same time attempting to keep Mara on his shoulder without looking like it. His muscles tensed and loosed as he lifted, moved around, and shifted position, trying to make it look like he was getting a better grip all the while fighting to keep Mara in place. Both their bodies were coated with sweat. She was slipping. He almost had it up. He gave one final shove, at last lifting it high enough above his bent shoulders for the shorter orc to put the wheel on its axle. He held it there as the orc worked at his task. He couldn’t let go until the larger orc told him or they would draw attention and suspicion. Mara began to slide. Gash fought back the urge to stop it. The larger orc was examining the fit of the wheel when Mara at last slid off and landed in the mud with convincing limpness. Gash winced, but Mara did not react. She simply lie in the awkward position in which she had landed, her eyes closed and her chest not moving for breath.
“Let go, you stupid half-breed!” came the larger orc’s derisive shout as Gash was smacked hard upside the head. The blow forced Gash’s arms and legs to buckle under the weight and he stumbled forward, almost falling on Mara. “Now get out of here before you make me more sick!”
It was a challenge not to answer the smack to his pride and react to the same injustice under which he had suffered for so many years. But he knew the danger to himself, and more so to Mara, if they were discovered. Fighting back his emotion, Gash made a show of cowering at the orc’s voice before stooping to pick up Mara.
“Stop!”
Gash turned to look at the large orc, attempting to give a stupid, questioning look.
“Where do you take that humun?”
Gash raised an arm, pointing a finger in the general direction of the Bent Mountain. The orc stared at Mara a moment.
“Leave her here,” the orc said at last in calmer and darker tones. “I will have her.”
Gash knew all the implications that statement could have. Disobedience meant risking exposure. But the alternative was worse. With a look of pleading upon his face, Gash shook his head vehemently. The orc’s eyes shifted to Gash. His brow creased and his upper lip lifted in anger.
“Stupid half-blood!” he shouted, back-fisting Gash across the face. The blow hurt but was not hard enough to knock him down. Still, despite his growing rage at this orc, he continued to play the part and rolled onto the ground as though the strike had been fiercer than it was. The orc followed him, continuing to shout.
“You don’t tell me no!” he said, kicking Gash in the chest. Again Gash rolled, halting on his backside. Gash made a fearful face of pleading and frantically pointed both index fingers back behind him toward where he had pointed before.
“I don’t care who your master is or what he wants!” The orc shouted back as he approached for another strike. “I am-“
The orc stopped and stared down at Gash. A look of scrutiny came upon his face and his eyes shifted, looking Gash over. He then regained his angered look and reached down, grabbing Gash by the throat.
“Who are you, half-blood?” he growled, no longer shouting as he raised him off the ground. “You bear no symbol of Grot. Where did you come from? How did you get here?”
Panic streaked through Gash. He pushed it aside as his mind raced through options and consequences.
“Answer me, half-life!” the orc shouted, shaking him.
Gash knew he had run out of time. Others would start to notice if this went on any longer. He knew he could no longer contemplate. He knew he had to act. But for once in his life, he was too slow. The orc reacted angrily to Gash’s silence by slamming his knee into Gash’s groin. Pain rippled through Gash and he felt his body go limp. The full-orc then slammed him to the ground face-down and pinned his neck with his massive foot. Gash could do nothing but lay there, helpless.
“Where were you going with that filthy humun…carcass…” the orc’s words sounded as if a revelation had hit his mind. “The humun. She is still alive.”
The pressure increased. Gash tried to move, but his limbs were still weak. He felt the orc’s hot, stinking breath on the back of his head.
“You were trying to get her to safety,” the full-orc said with malicious delight. “Well now you will see her end.”
The orc then lifted his foot from Gash’s neck. Gash was able to raise his head enough to see the orc walking a swift pace back towards Mara and the siege weapon. Gash cried out in his mind in terror. He strained to move his arms. His hand gripped the dirt and he pulled. The orc was almost to her. Gash’s legs pushed with little strength. The orc had reached her. Gash felt his strength swiftly returning. He put his hand beneath him and pushed. The orc was stooping down over Mara. Gash put his feet beneath him and began to stumble forward. He watched helplessly as the orc reached for Mara’s throat.
Long afterwards Gash would often think to himself how foolish he had been to think that Mara would ever be caught unaware.
In motions so swift, Gash would have missed them if he had not been watching so intently, Mara reached up and gripped the orc’s arm and pulled. The action caused not the orc to fall forward, but rather vaulted Mara upward, her shin slamming into the orc’s groin. She then swung her legs forward, sweeping the orc’s out from under him, and then released her grip, falling limply to the ground as though dead. The motion had twirled her whole body so that when the orc collapsed to the ground with a grunt, she was lying nearly parallel to him. As soon as he was on the ground, Mara’s arm swung with full force into the orc’s throat. She then pulled her arm in and again lay still as the massive orc lie choking and convulsing next to her. By the time Gash at last reached them, the orc was in his final death throws. He held his throat and stared at Gash with wide eyes. Gash looked around. Orcs went about th
eir business unaware.
Grabbing the orc’s legs, he pulled him over to the siege engine and shoved him beneath its base where he would be out of sight. He considered for a moment removing the pin and wheel, allowing the contraption to collapse upon the orc, but decided against it. There was no time and it would likely draw more attention.
Leaving the now dead orc, Gash walked back over to Mara.
“How did you know?” he said quietly as he maneuvered her limp body back onto his shoulder.
“Smelled different,” Mara mumbled in reply.
After positioning Mara on his shoulder, Gash reached down, picked up their weapons and continued on his way towards the mountain.
The cart alone was more imposing than it had seemed from a distance. It towered several stories high. Logs upon logs upon logs latticed together with such order and skill, Gash knew it to be far beyond the capabilities of his kin. They had had help from someone.
A hastily constructed ramp zigzagged up one side of the cart. This was quite clearly orcish and a strange contrast to the fine construction of the cart. At the base of the ramp, stood two orcs in what would constitute orcish armor; breastplates and backplates slung over the shoulders by tattered rope, and helmets obviously taken from some creature smaller than them. Still, the sight was odd in that he had never heard of any of his kin wearing armor. To do so would be to say that one was too weak to go without it and thus invite challenges from any orc that saw them. The contradictions and oddities of this army were growing and Gash was becoming increasingly uneasy about them.
He couldn’t fathom why they would need a ramp up to the cart in the first place, unless there were orcs going to and from the tower. But he saw no movement upon the ramp, and so its purpose seemed unclear to him. Regardless, he could not go up there directly unnoticed and unhindered. No half-blood would even be allowed to come near the base of the mountain, much less ascend it. Another option came to mind as he approached the ramp.
He walked to the right of the guards and the ramp, acting like he did not notice them. They too seemed to ignore him as he walked past them and out of their line of sight. He walked around to the back of the ramp where what passed for support beams in orcish construction sat in the shadow of the ramp, bordered by the deeper darkness of the cart. Gash then took Mara off his shoulder, telling her they needed to climb. He then handed her staff to her, and then slipped his holster on, his axe still firmly inside.
As soon as Mara had tucked her staff beneath her belt, she began to climb. Gash grabbed hold of one of the beams, and was about to follow, when a strange feeling of being watched washed over him. He turned and looked underneath the cart. Far into the darkness, Gash thought he could see hundreds of small, glowing eyes staring at him. The sight sent a shiver up his spine and he suddenly felt very unnerved, though he couldn’t explain why the sight so affected him.
“Gash!” Mara’s hushed cry came from above him. He looked up to see she was already twice his height off the ground. “What are you waiting for?”
Gash decided not to look back at the darkness, but immediately began to climb, partly from fear of the sight, and partly from thought of not having much time once whatever was under the cart gave the orcs report of their presence.
The two climbed as quickly as they could, staying in the shadow of the underside of the ramp and watching out for places too unstable to support them. It did not take them long before they were at the top tier of the ramp and had to climb across the beams, into the relative sunlight, and up the other side. Gash made it there first. Gaining a handhold, he pulled himself up and then reached down and pulled up Mara.
The orc army was far below them now, the base of the mountain only a few paces away. They paused a moment, looking to see if any force had been amassed to come after them. But nothing unusual seemed to be happening.
A horn sounded and Gash and Mara looked to see the orcish army breaking camp. They felt a sudden jerk, nearly knocking them off their feet as the cart began to move. They knew they had little time.
“We must go,” Gash said, and then turned, walked over to the base of the mountain and began to climb.
It was immediately rocky and barren, the stone of the mountain seeming to hold an unnatural chill. No plants or animals of any kind were seen, only harsh rock. The two climbed all that day, at first merely treading a cold, rocky incline. But as their elevation increased, so did the grade and by the end of the first day, they were on all fours, climbing a steep incline. Had they been able to see, they would have continued through the night. But as night fell, they looked up to see neither stars nor moon present in the night sky, as if the mountain itself was shrouding them from view. The two settled where they were, having found a small cove where the incline more-or-less flattened out.
Gash lay there for some time, attempting to fall asleep, but his mind was unsettled and a sense of foreboding seemed to surround him. He heard Mara tossing and turning upon the rocks and worried for her. He was relieved to hear her speak.
“Rola bung di nola,” she said as she tossed. “I cannot get comfortable on this rock. Just as well. I would rather not put myself in that creature’s path again.”
Gash was silent as he heard Mara sigh.
“I cannot abide this shinja darkness. Will you stop being so silent and speak to me about something?”
“What?”
“Anything. I do not care, just talk to me.”
Gash was silent and after a few moments, Mara let out a frustrated sigh.
“Tell me what happened on the mountain,” she said. “Why were you gone for so long?”
Gash was silent a moment, finding the words difficult to form. At last he spoke what he immediately could, not wanting to aggravate his friend.
“It is difficult,” he said.
“More difficult than my tale?” Mara challenged him.
Gash was again silent.
“I do not mean to force you, Gash,” Mara continued. “But you ought to know after hearing my tale what such darkness as this does to me. Not to mention…”
Gash heard Mara stop and let out a hard breath. She then continued in a calmer tone.
“I know many do not care nor understand you, Gash,” she said in sincere tones, “but I have never shown myself to be one of those people. You have shared much with me. You have bared your soul and have heard me bare mine. I do not wish your harm. You are my brother. Let me be your sister. I will not betray you.”
Gash was silent longer still as he thought on her words. He knew them to be right and could not deny the truth in them. Letting a breath slide out his nose, he at last relented. Ignoring the urge to clam up, Gash, clumsily at first, but with increasing clarity, related to Mara the events that took place after his separation from the group, how he fell and wandered the mountains alone and bitter. He then told of the village he found and of the girl, Lum that had followed him. He told her of her sickness and her eventual death. Then he told her of the pain and helplessness it had brought him and how even now his heart broke for her. He could but barely contain his emotion as he spoke of Lum, his love for her, and his devastation at her death.
His words spoke more than he realized, and as he finished the tale and the light of the morning began to dispel the darkness around them, he looked to see Mara sitting, facing him, her eyes wide with sorrow and astonishment at the pain he had faced. Gingerly, and without a word, she moved from her spot, wrapped her arms around him, and silently wept for him. Her embrace was warm and comforting. Her action opened up in him the flood of emotion he had been keeping in check and he found himself almost instinctively returning her embrace as sorrowful tears fell from his eyes.
************
The sun had fully risen by the time they had finally broken their fast and began moving again. They had not gone far before the air had gotten colder. Mara once again pulled out her skins and donned them and they kept moving. The incline became steeper and the two soon found themselves scaling an almost sheer c
liff. The handholds were few and far between and it slowed their progress by much. They kept their slow pace for hours, through the burning heat of the sun and the biting chill of the air. Snow began to blow around them. The rock was becoming ice cold. Their fingers and toes felt numb. The wind whipped around them, sometimes forcing Mara to stop and hold on to what little grip she had to avoid being blown from the mountain. Yet still they pushed themselves, not giving up, but pressing on ever so slowly. Handhold after handhold they found and foot by foot, they made their way up the sheer face of rock. Until at last, Gash’s hand felt through a layer of snow a broader area of level ground above him. His arms aching and his fingers numb, he pulled himself up onto a wide, flat path covered in a thick layer of snow.
Immediately, he rolled back to the cliff and looked to Mara who, despite her having to stop, had managed to keep close behind. He reached down a thick arm towards her. After a few more paces, she was close enough to grip his arm and the cliff. The two pulled and Mara joined her companion on the cliff, collapsing into the snow.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, “Praise…whomever! I have never been so happy to be in a pile of snow.”
Sitting up after a few moments, the two stood and looked around.
Though covered with snow, they could clearly discern that they were on a pathway. One direction lead south at a slight downward grade before turning east, winding around the mountainside. The other direction lead to the strange bend of the mountain peak not a mile away, at the end of which, hung the grey form of the Tower of Grot. Not wasting time, they immediately took step towards it.
It wasn’t long before they reached the strange bend and they could walk no further. But as they looked ahead, they could see handholds somehow shaped into the rock, beginning just inside Gash’s reach. He looked at Mara who simply shrugged.
Half-Orc Redemption Page 38