Page 4 of X’nath (Dark Orcs of Helfallow)

4

The Calm Before the Storm

X’NATH

T he men stood at the water's edge, eyes trained on the dark, still surface. The air was heavy with unease, thick with tension that felt almost tangible. Each ripple seemed to carry an ominous warning, and the silence pressed down on us like a heavy cloak.

Greag shifted uneasily, his hand tightening around his weapon, his eyes scanning the horizon. "I don't like this," he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for the others to hear.

I didn’t like it either. The water looked wrong—too still, too quiet. It was as if something was waiting, lurking beneath the surface, waiting to strike.

Then, without warning, a dark shape shot up from the water. It moved too fast to be anything natural—an explosion of movement, a blur in the gloom. We watched in stunned silence as a skaevin bird—massive, leathery wings spread wide—suddenly emerged from the water, its sharp beak clamped tightly around something. The creature’s screech echoed across the swamp, a sound both shrill and haunting.

As it rose higher, we could see the figure in its beak: a humanoid, struggling in vain against the bird’s powerful grip. Their screams sliced through the air, full of terror and desperation. The sound sent a chill down my spine, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe. The bird’s prey flailed weakly, helpless against the beast’s relentless hold.

"What in the ancestors’ name…?" Karg whispered, his voice thick with disbelief.

The skaevin’s flight was fast, but the struggle of the person caught in its beak slowed them for just a moment as they let out a masculine scream. I could only imagine their face, twisted in agony, as they looked down at the water below, eyes wide in terror as they were carried away. It was like the world had stopped, the swamp holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable.

Then, with a sickening snap, the creature dropped the humanoid into the water. The screams abruptly stopped, and the surface of the water rippled violently, as if something deep below had stirred in response. The bird continued its ascent, its wings cutting through the air as it vanished into the darkening sky, leaving nothing but ripples behind.

The silence that followed was oppressive. No one spoke, none of us daring to make a sound. My heart was pounding in my chest, a mixture of awe and horror settling over me.

“That... that wasn’t just a meal," Greag murmured, his voice low and tense. “That was a warning.”

I could feel the eyes of the men on me. I didn’t have an answer, only the cold realization that whatever lay ahead, it was far worse than we had imagined.

I swallowed hard, my instincts screaming at me to leave, to turn back. But I knew that wasn’t an option—not now. The shipwreck was close, and whatever waited out there in the waters wasn’t going to stop us.

“We keep moving,” I said, my voice steady despite the fear gnawing at the edges of my mind. “But we move carefully. Whatever that was, we’re not equipped to fight it. Stay sharp.”

The men nodded, though I could see the uncertainty in their eyes. We couldn’t afford to turn back now.

We trekked quietly along the shore, each step heavy with the lingering unease from the encounter with the skaevin. The water seemed endless, stretching out before us in a dark, featureless expanse. There was no sign of the shipwreck, no hint of the prize we’d been hunting.

I furrowed my brow, scanning the horizon. “This doesn’t make sense. The ship should be somewhere along this stretch of shore.”

Greag muttered something under his breath, his eyes flicking nervously to the water. “You’re telling me it just disappeared? Maybe it sank to the bottom, and we're wasting our time.”

“I’ll bet it’s already at the bottom of the sea,” Karg grumbled from behind, wiping mud off his boots. “We survived the damn swamp, fought off monsters, and now we’re gonna go home with nothing—no loot, no women. Just a bunch of soggy, pissed-off orcs.”

“Speak for yourself, Karg,” Vakgar chimed in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll gladly return home empty-handed if it means I don't end up as some giant frog's lunch.”

“I’m with you,” Korrin added, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ve survived enough swamp horrors to last me a lifetime. I’ll be damned if I come back without some kind of reward, though.”

"That's it," Karg continued, throwing his arms wide. "We survived a damn swamp filled with curses, ghosts, and a psycho frog, and we’re gonna come home without a single woman? The ancestors are laughing at us."

“Maybe the ancestors are laughing at you, Karg,” I said, giving him a side glance. “You’re the one who couldn’t even run from a couple of vines without screaming for help.”

The group erupted in laughter, though it was thin and hollow, the kind of laughter you use to mask your frustration. There was truth in Karg’s complaint, though. We had come this far, faced untold dangers, and now we were no closer to finding the shipwreck than we were when we first set out.

“Maybe the ship wasn’t even worth it,” Korrin muttered, grunting as he adjusted his pack. “What if the ship was just a damn lure? We’re deep in enemy territory now, and we’ve got nothing to show for it but sore feet and bad memories.”

“Quit whining, Korrin,” Greag snapped, though there was a trace of frustration in his voice. “We came for a reason, and we’ll find it. We’re orcs, damn it. If we have to tear apart the shore itself, we’ll do it.”

The men shuffled on in silence for a moment, each of us lost in our own thoughts. But the ominous feeling remained, a heavy weight pressing down on us as we trudged through the sand.

“I’m telling you,” Karg grumbled again, kicking at a pile of dried wood. “This better not end with us getting eaten by whatever’s lurking in the water. I didn’t sign up for this much disappointment.”

“Maybe you should’ve stayed home then,” I shot back, though a part of me was starting to agree with him. The longer we searched, the more it felt like the ship had simply... vanished. Swallowed by the sea, or maybe torn apart by the skaevin. Where there was one, there were bound to be more and their Cliffer handlers.

Before anyone could say more, a sound cut through the thick air—a low, drawn-out creaking that seemed to come from the expanse of the water. It wasn’t natural, not like the sounds of birds or distant animals.

The men froze, their eyes darting toward the seemingly calm surface, searching for the source of the noise.

“Did anyone else hear that?” Vakgar asked, voice tight.

“Yeah,” Greag muttered, his hand going to his weapon. “That didn’t sound like a shipwreck… it sounded like something’s waiting for us.”

I glanced at the others. We were battered and worn, but still ready for whatever came next. As we continued along the shore, the eerie creaking grew louder, more distinct, until it was impossible to ignore.

I squinted into the water, my gaze narrowing as something broke the surface—a figure, arms flailing, struggling to stay above the water. The sight sent a jolt of realization through me. The ship hadn’t sunk without a trace. The passengers were still alive.

"Look!" I shouted, pointing toward the struggling form. "They’re still out there!"

The men didn’t need any further encouragement. Without a word, they dove into the water, splashing as they kicked toward the figure. Some of them grumbled, muttering about how they’d have to dry out their pistols, but they quickly stripped them off and tossed them aside before diving in.

"I swear, next time we bring these damn things, they’re staying on the shore," Vakgar grumbled, shaking his head as he swam past me.

The water was cold, biting at our skin as we swam toward the floating wreckage. Under the light of the moon, the broken pieces of the ship floated eerily on the water’s surface—splintered wood and torn sails drifting like ghosts. Amidst the debris, a few figures were clinging to the wreckage, barely keeping themselves afloat.

“Over there!” Korrin called, pointing toward one of the figures, a woman clinging to a broken piece of the mast. Her face was pale, and she looked barely conscious, but she was alive.

I swam toward her, my muscles burning with each stroke. The others followed, moving quickly despite their weariness.

"Grab her!" Greag ordered as he reached her first, his arms outstretched. The woman gasped in surprise as Greag pulled her onto a piece of debris. Her eyes were wide with fear, but relief flooded her face when she realized she wasn’t alone.

“We’ve got you,” Greag said, his voice gruff but reassuring.

I was already scanning the water again. There had to be more survivors. The wreck had to have been much larger than what we were seeing now. But the moonlight barely illuminated the expanse of the water, making it hard to tell how far the wreckage stretched.

“Look!” Karg shouted, pointing to the edge of the wreckage. Another figure was barely visible, clinging to what looked like a broken spar.

The men immediately surged toward it, some grumbling about the cold but pushing forward nonetheless. The sounds of splashing filled the air as we gathered the survivors from the wreckage, our hearts pounding, our breaths shallow as we worked to pull them from the water.

As I reached the second figure, I felt a strange sense of urgency—this was more than just a raid now. These people had survived something, something that had torn their ship apart. And now, we were their only hope.

We managed to bring five women to the shore, their faces a mix of exhaustion and disbelief. Their clothes were soaked, their hair tangled and clinging to their faces, but they were alive. And that was more than I could say for most of the wreckage.

Greag was the first to speak after we pulled the last survivor onto the shore. His voice was sharp, practical, like it always was when things got serious. "Alright, someone start a fire! And get those leaves—anything to give us shelter from the night air. These women need warmth, and we can't afford to lose any more." His eyes swept over the group, taking in the damage, calculating. "Korrin, you’re on fire duty. Vakgar, grab some leaves. The rest of you—keep your eyes peeled. We’re not alone out here."

The men quickly split up, working in the darkness. Korrin began gathering dry wood from the scattered debris along the shore, while Vakgar scouted the surrounding trees for leaves big enough to shield us from the chill of the night air.

The women huddled together on the shore, their eyes wide and filled with fear, but there was also a strange sense of relief that hung in the air as the men began to build a fire. They weren’t out of danger yet, but they were alive. I stood close by, watching them, my mind still reeling from the wreckage we’d found. They must have been through hell.

“How did it happen?” I asked, kneeling beside one of the women as she shivered uncontrollably. Her blonde hair clung to her face, her body trembling in the cold. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with fear. But when I spoke again, she shook her head and scooted back a little, unsure of our intention.

I tried again, but her face only twisted in confusion. It wasn’t just the exhaustion—she didn’t understand me.

I glanced over at the others, realization dawning. Not all of us spoke the human tongue fluently, and I wasn’t sure how much of it these women would know, especially after being through whatever they had endured.

Greag, standing off to the side, grumbled and muttered to himself, clearly trying to piece something together in his mind. “This isn’t good. We don’t have much of a clue how to talk to them.”

Vakgar, who had picked up some words from previous raids on human trading ships, scratched his chin and nodded. “I know a few phrases. Should be enough, right?”

The five women appeared to be around the same age, except for one who observed us with a wary expression. There was a certain maturity to her that set her apart from the others, as though she had lived through more despite still appearing to be of breeding age. The blonde woman’s eyes flickered to her, perhaps seeking guidance or reassurance. It was clear that the older woman understood us better than the rest.

“Maybe start with simple words,” Korrin suggested, his voice low. “You know, like ‘food,’ ‘water,’ ‘help.’ We have to keep it basic until we figure it out.”

I nodded, turning back to the blonde woman, trying again with a slower, more deliberate approach. "Food?" I said, miming the action of eating. "Water?"

The woman blinked, then glanced at the others, and finally, to the older one, who seemed to be processing the attempt. After a moment of silence, she slowly nodded, perhaps recognizing what I was asking.

I repeated, “Food. Water.”

The blonde woman responded, her voice soft but clearer now, as if understanding the gesture. “Water... please,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. She didn’t seem as frightened now, but there was still wariness in her eyes.

I gave a nod and motioned toward the men, signaling for someone to fetch one of the water bladders they had thrown on the shore before diving in. As Korrin moved to gather what we had, the older woman stepped closer to the group, her gaze focused on me and the others. She hadn’t said a word yet, but her eyes were sharp, and her stance was that of someone who had seen much and trusted little.

“Storm,” the blonde woman spoke again, barely above a whisper. “It came... storm... and then... something attacked. I... I don't know...” Her voice trailed off, and she closed her eyes, as if the memory was too much to bear.

I clenched my jaw. There was something behind her words—something she was still holding back. But the older woman moved again, placing a hand on the younger woman's shoulder, a protective gesture that spoke volumes. She gave me a look that was as cold as the water itself, her eyes narrowing.

The men murmured among themselves, still uncertain. Vakgar finally broke the silence. “What if we just took them back to the camp, fed them, and tried again later?” He motioned toward the women. “No sense pushing them too hard when they’re this spent.”

I watched the fire flicker in the distance, the warmth of it calling to us. “Agreed,” I said. “Let’s get them settled and make sure they’re safe.”

As the group began to organize the camp, some of the men spoke quietly among themselves, trying to piece together whatever human words they could remember. "Boat," Korrin muttered, holding his hands like a ship’s wheel. "Maybe... she knows about a ship?"

“Let’s hope she knows more than she’s letting on,” Greag said, rubbing his forehead. “I’m not about to go diving into the sea again or fighting any more damn monsters without answers.”

The women might have survived the storm and skaevin, but the night felt far from over.