Rise of the Champion (The Champion Book 1)

by Clara C. Johnson

  She dreaded coming back. Grom’s wrath was now full blown. He would do anything and punish anyone who might have betrayed them. Although she and Finn had nothing to do with it, they would nevertheless be the most suspicious. They were the newest recruits, therefore, the most susceptible to bribes. They would be watched constantly now and interrogated.

  Honestly, all she wanted right now was dry clothes and a hot bath.

  Martin stepped forward. “I don’t think they were tipped off, sir. I think—”

  “What do you think, Martin? Why would you think otherwise? Were you the one who tipped them off?” Grom snapped.

  “No, sir. Of course not. I would never betray—”

  “I don’t care to hear excuses or promises. You will all suffer until this is settled. Dismissed.” The others left without question, but Serra remained.

  “Sir, isn’t it possible that someone outside of the crew tipped Lord Iren off? A spy?” she said. “I don’t think it’s fair to immediately assume your people—your crew—did this. Rafe is dead. Everybody here was his friend. Not one of us would’ve done such a thing to put him in meaningless danger. You have to believe that.”

  Grom walked around the table and smacked her across the face. “You will do well in remembering your place, girl. No one knew about this plan but the people in this room. I have no choice but to assume there’s a snake in our midst.”

  Serra touched her beet-red cheek as her lips trembled. A trickle of blood traveled down to her fingertips. Grom stared down at her like she was nothing more than a disobedient child. But she couldn’t remember any time that her father treated her this way. No, this wasn’t the look of a father, but of a monster used to getting his own way and threw a tantrum when he didn’t.

  “Dismissed,” he repeated, his voice sharp as if it were another slap across her face. It caused her to wince, only to immediately regret doing so.

  Serra stood for a moment longer before turning on her heel away from him. She looked back only once to see the sword lying on the table. One way or another, she would get that sword and give Grom the payback he deserved. She would never forgive and never forget this.

  Caden applied the ointment across Serra’s injured cheek. It was cool to the touch and stung when it sunk into the cut from Grom’s ring. She flinched away from his hand. He apologized for the pain. He hadn’t bothered asking her what happened. She assumed it had already spread throughout the base that Grom had lost his temper with her. She was sure some of the crew found it hysterical.

  Over the past several hours, each of the crew were questioned in Grom’s office. Grom was particularly irritated when he reached her and Finn, but he didn’t hit her again. He just remained sitting behind his desk. Perhaps a small part of him regretted it, but it was unlikely.

  Despite all the interrogations, they were still no closer in finding out who ratted them out to Lord Iren. Tensions would rise soon, and blame would be easily cast. Fights would break out too. Serra could already feel the pounding headache it would cause.

  “I’m glad you’re all right. I was worried,” Caden said.

  He was often the most kind to her, to the point where she wondered if that smile of his was meant for more than that. His eyes would shine in her presence. Sometimes he would stumble over his words or talk too much. He fiddled with his nails nervously.

  Though she couldn’t say she felt the same way about him, it was nice to know she wasn’t totally hideous to men. Caden was a good man, but the last thing on her mind was some romantic fling. He didn’t know her. If he did, he would run straight into the sea just to get away from her.

  But others saw that look, too. Some of the crew, like Martin and Rafe, would tease her, saying they made a cute pairing. They went as far as calling her “Mrs. Caden.” She put an end to that quickly.

  “Thanks.” Though, I worry what this may mean for the future. The words entered her mind but failed to be spoken. She wasn’t sure who she could trust anymore. Whoever betrayed the crew wanted them dead. Her dead. And the thought of someone wanting her best friend dead was another betrayal. She would need to be extra careful.

  Finn knocked on the doorframe, a fake smile on his face. He had put it on for her sake. He was just as worried as she was. “How you doing, kid? I didn’t think—”

  “I’m fine,” she said. Her voice came out harsher than she intended.

  There was nothing he could’ve done to prevent Grom’s abuse toward her. If he had tried, it would’ve cost them a lot more than just a cut on her cheek. She knew this, but it didn’t ease the anger in her heart. Trying to control her temper, she decided to change the subject. “What’s the plan? Are there any more jobs coming up?”

  He shook his head. “I imagine things will be quiet for the time being. Grom’s pride was hurt, so he will want to do something big and worthwhile for all the losses.”

  “It wasn’t just coin he lost, Finn.”

  Finn shrugged. “It’s all the same to people like him. I suggest we lay low for a while. We have enough money to last us. As long as we don’t go crazy, of course.”

  Caden finished with the ointment and put it away in his bag. Serra crossed her arms and scoffed at the dwarf. “You mean, as long as you don’t go crazy.”

  “My dear, when have I ever done that?” He smirked, knowing full well she was right. She rolled her eyes childishly at him. “Come on, let’s go home. Drinks are on me tonight.”

  Blood covered Serra’s hands. She wiped them fiercely on her pants, but her palms remained stained. The bare torches ignited, revealing the lifeless body before her. The person’s back was facing toward her. She hesitantly reached for the person’s shoulder, turning the body onto its back.

  Rafe.

  “How could you do it? I thought we were friends,” he said with tearful eyes. She scurried away from him, her back hitting the stone wall.

  “It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know someone ratted us out!” she cried, trembling uncontrollably. She could barely breathe. A sharp rock dug into her back, but Serra was in too much shock to notice the pain she should have felt.

  Rafe’s body moved as blood poured from his wounds. He crawled on the floor, the sword scraping against it. She tried to move away but walls formed around her, trapping her with him, leaving no means of escape. She clawed at the walls, pushing them in hopes they would move. A futile effort.

  When she turned back to Rafe, he was within feet of her, holding out the unsheathed sword. “Did you keep your promise? Did you get the sword?”

  She blinked and, before she could answer, Rafe was once again a lifeless corpse. His eyes were closed, mouth agape. The sword was in her hands, covered in blood. The weird markings on the blade lit and ignited a flame.

  It burned her hands, causing her to drop it. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she screamed, but when she looked at her palms, they bore no burn marks or blood. Rafe’s body had disappeared. She closed her eyes, willing herself awake.

  Serra shot up from her bed. Finn was asleep next to her, snoring loudly. Always the deep sleeper, unlike herself. Sunshine touched the dirty floorboards, making it clear she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. She rubbed her face and eyes, struggling to fully wake.

  It had been like this the past few weeks. Nightmares of Rafe’s death plagued Serra’s mind as she slept. Attacking her. Blaming her for his death. She wondered, at this point, if she was losing her mind.

  Although she knew his death wasn’t her fault, the guilt of it filled her just the same. The true person who caused his death was yet to be caught, leaving no one to point the finger when his accusations were thrown at her. She had to remind herself it wasn’t truly Rafe.

  None of the interrogations revealed anything, and there was no word on Lord Iren himself. Serra assumed he was all too pleased with himself when they were caught but he was upset they got away in the end. While they had their lives, they had lost their pay. The entire job was a waste of time.

  She got dressed and h
eaded out, wanting to distract herself from any further thoughts on everything that went wrong—away from Rafe’s memory.

  The market hadn’t been as busy as usual. In fact, people were closing their stands and packing their belongings, leaving bare shelves and empty cases. Something big was happening that everyone wanted to be a part of. It didn’t look good from where she stood.

  Serra approached one of the few remaining stores and asked what was happening. “An execution in the town centre. Some slaves tried to escape their master. You know how it is, they got to make an example of them to the others. Can’t have a pointy-eared uprising. It would ruin business,” he said. The overweight man often touched his large belly as he spoke. Businessmen always thought of exactly that: business. Trade. Profit. Money. Regardless of who it hurt. He called out to what Serra supposed was his wife and left.

  Unsure of what to do, and finding her curiosity overpowering, Serra followed the crowd toward the town centre, questioning why she wanted to see such a dreadful event. The pull on her heart made her feet move one in front of the other.

  The town centre was on the south side of Adhelm, not too far away from Silverhall, the place of government in the city. It was a large open space with a small fountain in its hearth. Silverhall itself could be seen even at the top of the hill. It was rumored to harbor the duke who was called the “king’s lap dog,” as his “home” was just short of a silver palace.

  Guess that’s where they got the name.

  The execution was to be of a male and female slave on the chopping block. They were brother and sister, named Nylain and Velatha. Nylain’s hair was short, cut to his shoulders. The ash-burned color of his hair matched his sister’s. Both looked dirty, as if they hadn’t seen a bath in weeks. Nylain had a swollen cheek. Velatha had puffy eyes. They were terrified.

  The person giving the execution was a woman by the name of Atala Falck, who was one of the captains of King Aron’s army sent here to provide order for the city, or so the official announcement said. Finn was good at keeping up to date with rumors and heard the captain was here to make sure the duke didn’t get too out of hand. He got cocky being the king’s lap dog.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” A hand touched her shoulder. Serra turned and saw Caden. Was he here planning to watch this horror as well? Why wasn’t he at the base?

  She shrugged off his touch. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “Couldn’t sleep, so I took a walk and heard the commotion. They’ve been working on this for the past hour.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Serra narrowed her eyes at him. Something didn’t add up with his story. He said it faster than normal—too hurried. Lies twisted with truths.

  “I see. I couldn’t sleep much myself.” She decided to not call him out on it. It was best she didn’t know. It was possible he was telling the truth. “Why are these slaves being executed?”

  He shrugged. “The girl claimed their master forced himself on her, and her brother found them in a… delicate position. He was enraged and attacked his master. So, his master demanded their executions this morning.”

  Forced himself on her? Serra cringed. In other words, he thought because she was a slave, she couldn’t ever say “no” to her master’s uncontrollable urges. Her brother had protected her and her dignity. He did nothing wrong. He defended his sister from an attack. The master deserved this punishment. Every woman had the right to say no.

  Serra dug her nails into her palms, forcing her temper down. This was injustice at its finest. A woman had a right to her own body. Even a slave had that right. What if she became pregnant? Would he still kill her then? But she knew the answers to the questions rummaging through her mind. Her life was forfeited the moment he bought her from… wherever they were from.

  The captain left the execution block and stood aside the platform. Without thinking, Serra pushed through the members of the crowd on her way toward the captain. She could hear Finn’s voice in her head telling her to stay out of it and walk away, but that was what Serra had always done. Walk away. Walk away from the slaves and let them be when it was clear they needed her help. She had to do something.

  “Captain Falck,” she said, still clenching her fists. The captain faced her with an apparent bored expression on her face. “Why are you executing these slaves? Their master forced himself on the girl. Does she have no right to say ‘no’? She is a person. A woman. If he had his way with her, she could’ve become pregnant. The baby would’ve been killed. A child. She—”

  Falck held up her hand, shutting her up. Frowning, she said, “Enough, girl. Their owner has every right to order their execution. The boy slave attacked him. They are both to be punished for his actions. It is to be made public to establish order. An example for the other slaves if they tried to defy their master.” She sounded like she had to explain this before one too many times.

  “But how can you justify death? Wouldn’t you defend your sister from an attacker?” The captain winced at her words. Recovering quickly, she shook her head then waved her hand for the executioner to continue.

  “Slaves have no rights,” Falck said.

  Fury raged inside Serra. She grabbed the handle of her dagger but stopped when she felt an arm wrap around her wrist.

  Caden whispered in her ear, “Let it go. There’s nothing more you can do. I know how you feel, but this will only make things worse. You will be executed next. Think, girl. Think.”

  Serra knew he was right. If she attacked, it would be her end and then nothing would change. The slave girl was first. Her brother watched helplessly, tears streaming down his cheeks, dripping onto the unfeeling world that watched his suffering.

  She wanted to hold him and tell him it was all right, that their spirits would leave this horrid world and go to a better place away from hate, away from slavery, and away from their master. But there was nothing Serra could do. She watched as the axe came down, severing Valetha’s head from her body. Her body went limp and fell on its side.

  She was a slave. An elf. A person. Someone who the captain claimed had no rights to her own body. She looked at the captain, who wore a malicious smile as if she had just claimed victory against her.

  Serra narrowed her eyes, promising the captain that this wasn’t over.

  Caden and Serra returned to the Square Serpent. She kept her distance from him, walking faster each time he caught up to her. The doors of the tavern slammed against the wall, causing unnecessary strain on the hinges as she walked through and headed straight for the bar to order herself a drink. The bartender seemed uninterested in her but slid her a fresh tankard of ale. Finn smiled when he saw her.

  “There you are! Here I thought I’d have to drink all alone.” Serra refused to face him. All she could picture was the slaves’ faces. Caden sat next to her between them. Finn leaned toward him. “Hey, did something happen?”

  Caden quietly explained what happened at the execution, including her run-in with Captain Falck. “She did what?” Finn shouted. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you could’ve caused us?”

  A few lone patrons looked at them with their eyebrows raised. The bartender shook his head after giving Finn a warning look.

  Serra ignored them and finished her drink. Her hard expression softened when she saw the concern written on Caden’s face. “You did well. You controlled yourself and managed to not cause trouble.”

  The small joke managed to ease some of her anger. Tension lifted between her and Finn, though it was mostly his own. He didn’t see the look in Nylain and Velatha’s eyes. The light from them just vanished as their heads were planted on the stand. They were dead before the axe ever came down onto their necks.

  With nothing to say, Serra rushed out of the tavern and kept walking.

  She continued until she reached Fogshore, a place she remembered where she and Finn were supposed to be dropped off when they first came to Adhelm. The underdeveloped docks on the far side were partially washed away from the shore. Only one doc
k remained intact but it was left unused by the looks of it. Perhaps that was why the captain of the Emilia changed ports besides the supposed “deal” he was offered for his goods, the docks were almost nonexistent.

  Green plants grew and stretched up the leaned supports on the broken docks that sunk in the water. Damaged boats were shoved underneath it, shattered beyond repair. Others were left where they had washed ashore. It was a pitiful sight. She imagined that many years ago it had been a fruitful place of work and trade. The duke felt there was no need to rebuild it as the city had Summerport instead. Such a waste, she thought to herself.

  She carefully stepped down to the shore. Her feet slid against the muddy terrain, almost causing her to fall several times. Her boots were covered in mud by the time she reached the rocks. She removed them and sat on the edge of the largest one.

  She stared out at the water and the wind brushed hair into her face. As she moved the strands away, she noticed a figure sitting in the sand a few paces from her by the shore.

  He wore old, ragged clothes and his bare feet were buried in the sand as he hugged his legs. His long, braided white hair lay on his back, unaffected by the wind she was dealing with. Ears protruded from his head to a solid point. Serra thought he seemed familiar until it hit her that she had met him several weeks ago.

  Theren.

  Grabbing her boots, she hopped down from the rock into the warm sand and headed toward him. He was alone, which made her wonder if his master was nearby or didn’t know he was here. As a slave, he should’ve been with his master or doing chores. Perhaps he found a way to escape his master’s hold for the time being. It was unlikely he ran away with nothing but the clothes on his back and no food or water.

  Serra was both happy and sad that he could find a small amount of freedom. Happy that he was finding some measure of peace. Sad because that also meant he was risking being caught and thoroughly punished for it. Freedom… She thought of Nylain and Velatha. They weren’t as lucky as him. They found freedom only in death.