Page 7 of X'nath

“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.

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