Page 19 of X’nath (Dark Orcs of Helfallow)

19

Echoes in the Shadows

GRACIE

T he day had been quiet, the usual hum of activity around camp settling into a familiar rhythm. The orc women were going about their work—cooking, mending, and tending to the younger children—while the men joked and shared stories over the low crackle of the fire. In the distance, I could hear the rhythmic clang of metal against metal as some of the orcs worked in the smithy inside the mountain, crafting new tools and weapons.

Others were gathered near the outskirts of the camp, testing different amounts of gunpowder with pistols, the sharp pops and crackles breaking the otherwise calm atmosphere. It was the kind of day where everything felt strangely peaceful, almost too peaceful. The human women, though still adjusting, were finding their routines as well, helping out where they could. The sounds of laughter mixed with the occasional clink of tools or the distant murmur of conversations, creating an air of calm that I had almost grown used to.

As I watched the activity around me, I took a deep breath. There was an undeniable sense of equality here among the male and female orcs, something that was a stark contrast to the way I had lived back in the human settlement. In the settlement, women were often restricted to roles dictated by tradition and societal expectation. But here, the orc women were not only accepted but actively participated in every aspect of life. They worked alongside the men, shared responsibilities, and contributed to the clan in ways that felt natural and unforced.

It was refreshing to see that no one was looked down upon or given less opportunity based on their gender. The female orcs weren’t simply taking care of the children and the home—they were warriors, strategists, hunters, and leaders, equal to their male counterparts. I realized how much I had missed the feeling of true equality, something I hadn't even known I was longing for until I arrived here. It made this life feel more freeing, like I could finally breathe without the weight of outdated rules and expectations.

The sounds of laughter, the clink of tools, and the hum of conversations, all mixed together, gave the camp a peaceful, balanced rhythm. It was a quiet that I hadn't known could exist, and yet, in a way, it felt like the calm before a storm. But, for now, I allowed myself to enjoy it, knowing I was no longer trapped in a world where I had to conform to someone else’s idea of what I should be.

Sophie had settled in with Greag, while Vakgar was busy expanding his home to accommodate Kelly. Erin, on the other hand, was struggling to communicate her needs with Karg. Despite his youthful energy, he was a bit like a young human man—clueless when it came to understanding female flirtations and subtle hints. He fumbled often, frustrating Erin, but it was clear there was an undeniable interest between them.

Salma and Korrin, on the other hand, had kept to themselves, rarely showing their faces in the communal areas. However, every so often, I’d catch the sound of her soft laughter drifting from behind their walls.

Everyone was settling in with someone sooner or later. That left me alone in the home we had built together, a home that no longer felt like it belonged to just me. I wasn’t sure where I’d fit in once they had all found their place. The uncertainty haunted me.

The air shifted quickly as the loud, frantic voice of Rasha cut through the village, her panic palpable.

"Ahnak! Ahnak!" Her voice rose in desperation as she frantically searched the area for her youngest child.

The orc women were on their feet in an instant, trying to calm her, but Rasha was beyond reason. Her hands shook as she clutched at her chest, her eyes darting around like a cornered animal. The little ones, oblivious to the panic, continued to play nearby, their laughter echoing in the house, unaware of the growing tension.

I stood frozen for a moment, my heart hammering in my chest. It wasn’t just the fear in Rasha’s voice that gripped me—it was the way she moved, like a mother about to lose her child. The tribe members began to organize, a few of the men exchanging light-hearted banter, dismissing the situation as something normal.

“Boys are always getting into trouble,” one of them said with a chuckle, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. The others nodded, their tones casual, as if the missing child was no big deal.

But Rasha didn’t look relieved. And that was enough to send a spike of fear through me.

I had just returned from one of the homes on the outskirts of the tribe, the familiar weight of a basket of fresh vegetables pressed against my hip, a gift from one of the clan members. As I stood there, my eyes scanning the area, I could feel the tension in my muscles. There was a restless energy inside me, an urge to do something—anything—to help.

That’s when I heard it.

A small, faint scream. It was so quiet that I was sure I imagined it at first, but it was there. A sharp, frightened sound that cut through the chaos and into my bones.

My instincts took over before I could even process what was happening. Without thinking, I dropped the basket and bolted, sprinting toward the source of the noise. The orcs, too preoccupied with organizing the search, didn’t notice my departure. I couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing in my ears anyway, fear and adrenaline propelling me forward.

I ran, following the scream’s fading echo. It wasn’t far—just a few hundred yards from the communal house.

I paused at the edge of a small clearing, catching my breath. My eyes darted around, scanning the area. The woods were quiet now. Too quiet.

And then, I saw him.

Ahnak. The boy was crouched in the brush, his small body trembling with fear. His wide eyes were filled with terror as he looked up at me. He was covered in dirt, his clothes torn, and I noticed a strange, sharp smell in the air. Something was off.

"Ahnak," I whispered, kneeling down slowly, trying to keep my voice calm. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He didn’t respond. Instead, he backed away from me, his gaze fixed on something behind me.

That’s when I felt it. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and a cold chill ran through me. I turned, my heart in my throat, but saw nothing at first.

Just the trees swaying gently in the breeze.

Something moved in the shadows.

A figure. No, not a figure. Something more... ominous. Something I couldn't explain.

I instinctively grabbed Ahnak by the arm, pulling him behind me, my pulse quickening. What loomed before us was something straight from a nightmare.

It was a twisted abomination, a grotesque blend of beast and shadow, with matted fur and elongated limbs that ended in claws that glinted like knives. Its mouth was a gaping maw, filled with jagged teeth that dripped with a viscous, black drool. The child screamed again, but it was cut short as the creature’s claws shot out and tightened around his waist, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

Time seemed to stretch on as I stood there, frozen, paralyzed by the sheer horror of it all. Every instinct in me screamed to run, to hide, to escape, but I couldn’t leave him. He was just a child—helpless, unable to protect himself. My heart raced as I scanned the area, desperate to find something, anything, I could use to defend him. My eyes landed on a jagged branch, its end broken off, rough but sharp enough to pierce flesh. Without thinking, I grabbed it, my hands tightening around it as my grip steadied. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had.

I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to step forward. “Get away from him!” I shouted, my voice cracking as I raised my makeshift weapon. The creature turned its head toward me, its eyes glowing like embers in the dim light, and a low growl rumbled from its throat.

What was it about this land that gave rise to such creatures?

With a surge of courage fueled by rage, I lunged forward, aiming the branch at the creature’s flank. It snarled and whipped around, swatting me aside with a brutal swipe of its paw. I crashed into the dirt, pain exploding in my side, but I pushed through it, scrambling back to my feet.

“Let him go!” I screamed, my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. I couldn’t let fear dictate my actions any longer. With every ounce of strength I had left, I charged again, aiming for the creature’s legs.

But it was faster. It dropped the boy as I approached, turning on me with a speed that made my breath catch. I ducked just in time as its claws grazed my shoulder, ripping through fabric and flesh. Blood surged down my arm, hot and sticky, but I didn’t stop.

“Stay back!” I yelled, as I kicked out, catching the creature off-guard. It stumbled back, momentarily distracted, and I took that brief moment to grab the child and pull him away from the chaos. “Get up! We need to move!”

He was trembling, his face pale, but he nodded and scrambled to his feet. As we backed away, the creature roared, a sound so primal it sent chills down my spine. I didn’t have time to think. I pivoted and slashed the branch at its face, aiming for the soft flesh just beneath its jaw.

This time, it barely nicked its skin, and the creature let out a horrific howl that echoed through the trees. It turned its full attention back to me, and my heart raced as I prepared to dodge another attack.

Out of the corner of my eye, a blur of red shot out. X’nath’s weasel, charged into the fray. He was the size of a medium dog but fierce, darting between the creature's legs with surprising agility. He nipped at the beast's ankles, drawing its ire. The creature twisted, momentarily distracted by the tiny whirlwind of fur and teeth.

“Yargol!” My heart raced with fear for him, but there was something undeniably brave about his sudden assault.

With the creature momentarily off-balance, I seized the opportunity. “Stay here,” I urged the child. We charged again, Yargol darting and weaving around the creature’s limbs, drawing its attention away from the child.

For the time being, we managed to keep the creature at bay. Yargol leapt up, trying to climb the creature’s leg, sinking his tiny teeth into its flesh. The beast howled in pain, and I could see blood splash onto the ground, coating Yargol’s fur.

The creature swiped a massive claw at Yargol, sending him tumbling aside. A rush of fear gripped my heart. To my relief, Yargol quickly scrambled back to his feet, undeterred. The creature was distracted again, and this time, it was furious.

The battle had dragged on far longer than I anticipated, and I could feel my strength beginning to falter. The creature—massive, grotesque, its claws sharper than any knife—fought with brutal, primal force. Every swipe of its claws narrowly missed, and every time I struck, I felt as if I was barely making a dent. My body ached, the weight of my weapon pulling me down with every swing, but I couldn’t stop.

I had to defeat this thing. There was no other choice.

But it wasn’t going as planned. My strike barely nicked the creature’s thick hide. My mind raced, searching for a way to end this.

The creature, furious and desperate, swung its enormous claws with a terrifying speed I wasn’t ready for. The force of the blow sent me crashing to the ground, the wind knocked out of me. My weapon clattered away, useless in my hand. I gasped for air, trying to regain my bearings, but before I could move, the beast’s jaws were snapping toward me.

I froze, the terror flooding my veins. The child. I had to protect the child. I couldn’t let it end like this.

Just as the creature lunged, a deafening roar echoed through the forest.

Out of nowhere, X’nath appeared, his massive form charging forward, battle axe raised high. The creature barely had time to react before X’nath’s axe cleaved through the air, striking it square in the side with a sickening thud, spraying blood everywhere. The creature howled in pain, staggering back, and X’nath swung again, his axe finding its mark in the monster’s thick hide.

His movements were precise, deadly, and there was a brutal elegance in the way he fought. My heart skipped a beat as I watched him in action. The cocky, flirtatious orc from before was gone. In his place stood a warrior—relentless, focused, and determined to protect.

Yargol had been darting around the creature’s feet, attacking with a viciousness that almost matched X’nath’s, biting and nipping at the creature’s legs. Together, they were a deadly force, overwhelming the creature at every turn. It was morbidly mesmerizing.

The beast swung its claws desperately, but X’nath was too quick. He dodged, moving with an ease I hadn’t expected, his axe striking the creature’s exposed throat with a violent crack.

But just as I thought the fight was nearing its end, the creature’s tail whipped out, catching Yargol midair. The weasel let out a screech of pain as he was sent flying, crashing against the rocks nearby.

“No!” I shouted, panic rising in my chest. I couldn’t lose Yargol. My connection to the weasel had deepened over the course of this battle.He was more than just a companion; his tenacity gave me the strength to keep fighting when the odds were stacked against us.

The creature focused its attention on X’nath, and I saw my opportunity. I dove forward, grabbing my weapon and charging with everything I had. I didn’t think. I just acted.

The creature’s head turned toward me, its eyes narrowing as it roared, but it was too late. X’nath’s axe swung again, taking the creature’s head off with one final, precise strike.

For a long moment, the world stood still as its decapitated head rolled away. The only sound around us was the ragged breaths we were all taking. The creature’s massive body collapsed with a heavy thud, the last remnants of its life spilling out across the forest floor.

I stood there, panting, my heart racing, as I surveyed the scene. The battle was over. It was really over. The child was safe.

I looked over at X’nath. His chest heaved as he stood over the fallen monster, his axe still raised. Blood soaked his clothing, his face smeared with the creature’s gore. Despite the carnage, he didn’t look tired. He didn’t look afraid. He looked... alive.

I wanted to say something, anything, to acknowledge what had just happened, but the words caught in my throat.

X’nath turned to me, his eyes narrowing as he took in my appearance. I knew I must look like a mess—blood streaked across my face, my clothes torn and stained, my body aching. But when he spoke, his voice was calm, as though we’d just had a casual conversation.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his gaze softening.

I nodded, but my body felt like it was about to collapse. My legs wobbled, and I had to brace myself against a nearby tree to stay standing.

“Thank you,” I managed to say, my voice barely a whisper.

He gave me a small nod, though there was a glimmer of something—something more than gratitude—in his eyes. But before I could say anything else, I turned away, feeling the weight of everything crash down on me. I had to get away for a moment, to clear my head, to breathe.

As I escorted the child back toward the tribe, I glanced over my shoulder.

Yargol, thankfully, had scrambled back to his feet, shaking off the dirt and debris from the battle. He quickly returned to X’nath’s side, his form brimming with determination despite the chaos.

X’nath stood there, watching me as the other orcs rushed toward them, their expressions filled with concern and awe. His arms were crossed, his posture relaxed yet commanding, as he surveyed the aftermath of the battle. Despite the blood and gore surrounding him, there was a quiet confidence in his gaze—a reminder of how much I still didn’t fully understand about him.

The admiration I had for him—despite myself—was growing. I hated it. I hated that he had come to my rescue, that he had saved me, that he had been so powerful and capable.

But the truth was undeniable: there was more to him than the cocky orc who flirted and teased. He was a warrior, a protector, and something about the way he fought alongside me made me want to understand him more.

And that terrified me.