Chapitre 11: Chapter 11: A Duel In The Dark
Chapter 11: A Duel In The Dark
The shrill cries of our panicked horse pierced the stillness of the night, each desperate whinny clawing at my nerves. My grip tightened around the hilt of my sword, its cool steel grounding me against the flood of thoughts that threatened to overwhelm. If it were Zarathids, the horse would already be little more than mangled flesh. Whatever awaited us out there was deliberate, patient, something far worse.
Beside me, Buck crouched low, his bowstring taut. He met my gaze, his eyes filled with grim determination. No words passed between us; they weren't needed. Together, we crept forward, the crunch of leaves and the occasional snap of twigs the only sounds betraying our advance.
The horse's cries grew louder, frantic and guttural, as we reached the edge of the clearing. And then we saw it.
It stood over eight feet tall, humanoid in shape but exuding an alien ferocity. Its dark green skin glistened in the moonlight, stretched over muscles so pronounced they seemed ready to tear free. Veins coiled around its limbs like living ropes, pulsating with each movement. In its hands, it carried an axe, a monstrous weapon whose blade gleamed wickedly, promising destruction with every swing.
The orc turned its head slightly, uttering something in a guttural tongue. The deep, gravelly tones sent a shiver racing down my spine. Then, without hesitation, it strode toward the horse.
In one brutal motion, the orc seized the horse's head and tore it free from the body. Blood erupted in a gruesome spray, painting its face and raven-black hair. It held the severed head high, letting the crimson rain cascade down its body like a grotesque baptism. Then, throwing its head back, it let out a primal roar that echoed through the forest, shaking the very air.
I froze, my instincts warring between the urge to run and the resolve to fight. Memories of battles fought and foes conquered flitted through my mind, but they felt hollow now, mere shadows compared to the raw power before me. Then, beneath my foot, I felt it, a fragile branch, dry and brittle. It snapped with an audible crack.
The orc's head whipped toward me, its keen eyes locking onto mine with terrifying precision. A slow grin spread across its brutish face, blood dripping from its tusks. It cast aside the horse's head, gripping its axe as it took a step toward us.
Running wasn't an option. Even with my enhanced strength, I couldn't outrun an orc, nor could I match its endurance. And as the shadows in the trees shifted, other forms emerged, hulking, green-skinned warriors, their eyes glinting with cruel anticipation.
The leader raised its axe and bellowed again, a sound both challenge and declaration. The other orcs joined in, their roars a deafening chorus. But none moved. They stood as spectators, honoring the rite of a one-on-one duel.
I stepped forward, sword raised, and forced myself to meet its gaze. My heart pounded so violently I thought it might burst, but I refused to show weakness. My thoughts raced as I tried to recall every lesson, every scrap of advice I'd been given about orcs. Their honor-bound duels were my only advantage, but it was slim—razor-thin.
The orc surged toward me, its speed defying its massive size. Its first strike came in a blur, the axe cleaving through the air with terrifying precision. I barely managed to raise my sword in time, the impact jolting my arms and numbing my fingers. The sheer force sent me stumbling backward, my boots skidding against the dirt.
It pressed the attack, its strikes relentless and calculated. Each swing of its axe carried the weight of a boulder and the intent to kill. My counters were clumsy in comparison, my movements sluggish against its sheer ferocity.
Desperation surged within me, pushing me to lunge forward in a reckless attack. Our weapons collided, and sparks erupted between us, illuminating the darkened forest in fleeting bursts of light. For a brief moment, I thought I'd gained the upper hand.
But then my sword shattered.
The blade, forged to endure countless battles, splintered into jagged shards that scattered across the ground. I stared at the broken hilt in my hand, my mind blank with disbelief.
The orc paused, tilting its head as if savoring my helplessness. Then it stepped closer, its shadow engulfing me.
I stumbled and fell backward, the rough ground biting into my palms. My body refused to move. My hands shook, my breaths came in shallow gasps, and my heart felt like it might stop altogether.
Primal fear took hold. Memories of past victories now felt like mocking ghosts, reminding me of how far I'd come only to face this insurmountable end. I could feel it, the weight of death pressing down on me, cold and unrelenting.
The orc loomed above me, its axe raised high, muscles coiling as it prepared the killing blow. The world around me seemed to fade, reduced to the glint of the axe's blade and the inevitability of what was to come.
This was how it would end.
Chapitre 12: Chapter 12: Shackles of the Unknown
Chapter 12: Shackles of the Unknown
The axe descended, its massive blade carving through the air with a deadly whistle. My mind raced, desperation clawing at me. I couldn't die, not here, not now. After everything I had endured, this couldn't be the end.
Then, just as the cold inevitability of death loomed over me, an arrow pierced the night. Its whistle cut through the chaos, and a sickening thud followed as the projectile embedded itself in the orc's eye. The brute staggered, its roar of pain shaking the ground. Blood streamed from the wound, and its grip faltered, the enormous axe crashing to the earth mere inches from my head.
In a blur of motion, a figure darted past me. My vision swam from exhaustion and shock, but I caught glimpses of the figure, lean, swift, and familiar. Buck. He moved with a speed and precision I hadn't known he possessed, seizing the massive axe and leaping high into the air. With a single, powerful swing, he cleaved the orc in two, the blade tearing through its torso.
The forest erupted into chaos. Orcs roared in fury, their cries shaking the trees. The rules of their honor-bound duel had been shattered, and now they surged forward, rage igniting their charge.
Buck barely had time to raise the axe again before a fist the size of his chest slammed into him. The impact sent him sprawling to the ground, his body crumpling like a discarded doll. More blows rained down, and in moments, he was unconscious.
I barely had time to register what was happening before another orc loomed over me. Its fist, heavy as a boulder, came down hard. Darkness swallowed me whole.
When I opened my eyes, my head throbbed like a war drum. I blinked against the dim, flickering light, the world around me coming into focus slowly, cruelly. Cold metal dug into my wrists, chains rustling with every twitch of my aching arms.
The first thing I saw was the cage. Thick, blackened steel bars rose around me, their surfaces pitted with rust and streaks of dried blood. The air inside was heavy and damp, carrying the stench of rot and despair. Beyond the bars, the camp unfolded like a nightmare; a sprawling, grim expanse of suffering.
Other cages stretched in every direction, crammed with prisoners. Humans, their faces sunken and eyes hollow, sat slumped in corners or leaned against the bars in silent resignation. Among them were smaller figures, goblins, their wiry frames trembling as they whispered to one another in frantic, unintelligible tones. Their voices were abruptly silenced by a deafening clang as an orc banged a cudgel against the bars, sending a jolt of fear through everyone.
I forced myself upright, the motion agonizing. My body screamed in protest, every muscle a reminder of the beating I had taken. My chains clinked as I shifted, the sound grating against my ears. The air reeked of unwashed bodies, iron, and something faintly metallic that seemed to stick to the back of my throat.
Beyond the cages, the camp revealed its brutal purpose. What had once been a vibrant forest was now a desolate wasteland. Stumps littered the landscape like tombstones, and the earth was churned into a muddy, unrecognizable mess. A dark, oily haze hung in the air, turning the distant mountain into a looming shadow. The ground beneath my feet was littered with shards of stone and splintered wood, each step a reminder of the destruction wrought here.
A narrow, winding path cut through the camp. Along it, emaciated prisoners dragged rickety carts piled high with jagged rocks and dull, gleaming ores. Their backs bent under the weight, their faces etched with exhaustion and despair. Others carried crude tools, shuffling toward the mountain like lifeless marionettes.
The orcs patrolled the camp with an air of cruel authority. Their hulking forms cast long shadows in the dim light, and their guttural commands boomed across the wasteland. Any prisoner who faltered was met with immediate and brutal punishment; a cudgel swung without hesitation, a boot to the ribs, or a backhanded slap that left blood in its wake.
I scanned the crowd desperately, searching for Buck. But he was nowhere to be seen. Panic rose in my chest like bile, my breaths quickening. The oppressive weight of the cage, the camp, the orcs, it was too much.
My gaze fell to my shackled hands, the rusted chains that marked me as another cog in this merciless machine. A tremor started in my fingers and spread, my whole body shaking uncontrollably. The cold iron bit into my skin, leaving raw, angry marks. Every time I moved, the rusted links grated against one another, a sound as grating as my own thoughts.
"This… this can't be happening," I whispered, the words catching in my throat. "I fought. I survived. I'm supposed to be stronger than this."
But the truth clawed its way into my mind, cruel and unrelenting. I wasn't strong enough. Not against the orcs. Not against this. My chest heaved, my breaths turning ragged. The walls of the cage seemed to close in, the bars pressing against me, suffocating me.
A sob escaped my lips, raw and guttural. I buried my face in my hands, the tears burning hot against my cold, dirt-smeared skin. All the battles, all the struggles, what had they been for? To end up here, broken and powerless?
The clang of a cage door jolted me upright. An orc stepped inside, its massive hand gripping the chain that linked my shackles. Without a word, it yanked me forward with brutal force. I stumbled, the rough ground scraping my knees as I struggled to keep up.
As I was dragged toward the path, I caught one last look at the cage. The prisoners inside avoided my gaze, their faces turned downward, lifeless. The spark of rebellion or hope, if it had ever existed, was long extinguished.
A strangled cry built in my throat, but I choked it down. What was the point? My mind raced, searching for a plan, a way out, anything. But the reality was stark and unyielding.
I was too weak. Too small. Too human.
The orc barked a command, and I stumbled again, the chain pulling me upright like a puppet on strings. The mountain loomed closer, its shadow swallowing me whole.
This was no battlefield. There was no glory to be found here. Only despair.
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