“I’m fine,” she blurted, startled by his question. The voices had thankfully stopped murmuring in her ear. She grabbed fistfuls of her hair, gripping tightly. Was she going crazy? Had the lack of sleep and Rafe’s death finally gotten to her? No. No, it must’ve been the men. They didn’t seem… normal. They must’ve spooked her more than she was willing to admit. She was being silly. A stupid girl.
“I’m fine,” she repeated calmly. Offering a fake smile to Caden, she saw that he was clearly not convinced. He’d learned to read her as well as Finn. It angered her to know she wasn’t masking her emotions as well as she should. There were already too many eyes on her. Any one of these men would use it against her, saying she looked clearly guilty.
Instead of pressing her further, Caden simply patted her shoulder, an offering of comfort. Serra placed her hand atop his before letting her arm fall back down to her leg. Bracing herself with her elbows on her knees, she took a deep breath. She really needed to get more sleep.
The ride back was quiet. Benedict and Finn chuckled a few times as they shared stories of past events. In the small crew of five men, the others were too busy minding the ship to pay any thought to her. They were ones she had worked with before but never bothered to offer their names to her. She was still an outcast after all this.
She pulled out a small canteen of ale from Finn’s bag and took several gulps. While she never believed in drinking on the job, she needed something to calm her nerves. It was one of the habits she had learned from Finn over the years. “When you feel your nerves going, take a couple of sips. It’ll calm you right down,” he had told her a long time ago.
Finn caught her putting the canteen back and made a polite excuse to leave Benedict’s side. He leaned in close to her so she would be the only one to hear him. “What’s going on? You never take a drink from my stuff unless something’s wrong or you ran out of your own.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, pushing away the hair in her face.
“I got a bad feeling,” she whispered and rubbed her temple as the throbbing pain surfaced.
“What’s the matter with her?” called out Benedict.
Finn gave an unconcerned smile. “Oh, she’s just a little seasick. Guess it was those weird oysters she ate last night. Just didn’t set well. Nothing to worry about.”
“Aye, well, if she explodes, make sure she points her head off my ship.”
Finn’s charm worked as always. No matter what was happening, he knew just what to say and how. It was a skill Serra regretted never learning from him. She had never possessed the skill of making others believe what she wanted. Choosing logic and compassion over outright lies got her into more trouble than it was worth many times over. She just didn’t have the flare for lying games. She would get nervous and dig at her fingernails when she was put into a difficult position.
“We’ll talk about it later when the job is done. I didn’t like the looks of those guys either. Just try to keep your chin up.” Finn patted her back, failing to reassure her but she didn’t have the heart to tell him so. She instead nodded and let him continue his rounds among the crew.
Finn had done his best to mellow any suspicions against them. Even when the crew was rude or conceding, he showed them camaraderie and respect as his counterstrike. It was a technique he used for every crew they were part of, no matter how long or short they were with them. He once explained it was because “You must know who you are working with,” and know their thoughts and feelings on things. That also prevented issues in the future should something go horribly wrong. Serra supposed this was an example of that.
The shipyard they were to deliver the cargo to was within eyesight. Rotted, broken boards hung off their ledges. The entire building seemed mostly intact, despite its poor condition. A hinge on the door was rusted, which would make it difficult to open without it potentially ripping off.
Their boat floated against the dock. Benedict dropped the anchor and had some of the men set up the plank to carry the cargo onto the dock and into the building. Serra and the others worked together to lift the heavy boxes. The man, the leader of the strange group from earlier, had already opened the door. He said nothing and helped with nothing. He just watched as they carried each piece back and forth.
There was a paper in his hand and a bag on his waist. The bag was there to make it obvious to the others that he had their coin, flaunting it like candy to a child. At least his leader—or whatever he was—was telling the truth about one of his men being here.
After carrying in three boxes out of the five, they heard someone speak. “I see everything went well.” Serra and Caden stopped carrying the fourth box in.
Grom.
Serra had never seen him make a personal appearance to any delivery. Was he trying to make a good impression on his new partner? She believed he thought such a thing would be beneath him. The dirty work was meant for his crew. He would simply reap the benefits of it.
The others brought in the final box and the two barrels. Grom’s smile spread across his face as he offered a hand to the man dressed in the same clothes as his brethren. He didn’t take it. Instead, Grom led him out of the building to finalize the deal.
Serra and Caden shared a worried look. When they followed Grom out, he called out to Serra. “Oh, girl, make sure you get all the cargo off. Count it, will you? I want to make sure everything is in order.” His words were a command, but his tone was different. He’d sounded almost kind to her, as if it were nothing more than a request.
She balled her fists.
Caden glanced back at her. She rolled her eyes then went back to the cargo. Crossing her arms, she counted the boxes one more time even though there wasn’t many of them. It was an insult to her intelligence. She was treated like a child learning to count to ten for the first time.
It was a waste of time, and Serra hated wasting time.
Once she was done, she heard another sound coming from the boxes. She tried to force herself to walk away, but it was louder this time. It sounded like a sob, as if someone was crying somewhere inside the building. Scanning the area, there was no sign of any presence besides her own.
The sound came again, and Serra grabbed the bar. She followed the cries and found its source in the second box they had carried in. Kneeling, she leaned her ear toward the box and heard sniffling.
Without thinking, she pried open the box with the bar. A bunch of hay fell out with no clear sign of what was inside. She brushed it out of her way. A gasp escaped her when she saw what the cargo truly was.
A woman and a little boy were curled up together within the box. Cramped, thin, and starving. The boy’s eyes were filled with tears. His pointed ears hid within his black hair. A mark was on each of their foreheads.
Slaves.
The cargo was slaves.
Serra jumped back, falling on her rear as the bar fell to the floor with a loud clank. The woman covered her child’s face, tears streaming down her cheeks. The cargo was slaves. Grom was getting his crew into the slave trade by smuggling them into Adhlem in boxes. Cramped boxes barely big enough to hold a full-grown elf, much less one and a child.
“Please,” the elf whispered. The grip on her child was so tight Serra could see her shaking. “Please.” Her black hair was long and messy, covering her face.
Serra didn’t know what she meant. She could’ve meant anything such as “don’t tell Grom or the others” but that couldn’t have been it. Grom knew. There was no way in hell he didn’t know what the cargo was. That’s why he made this a test for his crew. He wanted to know how they would react to this.
Adhelm didn’t have laws against having slaves, but there were laws against smuggling them into the city. Granted, it would mean that the duke wouldn’t get a cut of the profits. Grom had smuggled all types of things into the city, but elves—people—were not one of them.
She sat up, offering a hand to the elf. “I won’t hurt you. I’m not part of the crew that kidnapped you. I was hired to bring cargo h
ere, but none of my crew knew you were in here.” Once she said it, she immediately regretted it. Regardless if Serra was part of the crew who kidnapped her and her child, she was part of Grom’s crew, who smuggled her into the city. She was part of all of this.
“Please,” she repeated, “don’t take my son.”
The poor woman. Ripped away from her home. She must’ve lost everything and only had her son left. Wherever they came from, they knew of the rampages on their soil and the enslavement for the elf to immediately believe Serra would take her child was enough to assume that.
“I’m not here to take your son.”
But what was she here for? What could she do? The elf clearly needed help and if she revealed the truth, Grom would surely try to have her killed for disobeying his orders—for challenging him. It was the very thing he wanted from her. He would convince the others she was the one who betrayed them. But… if she left them where they were, they would be enslaved. Tortured.
“How many of you are there?” she asked. The elf said nothing but nudged her head at the other boxes.
Serra opened each one of them, including the barrels. Out of all the five boxes, there were three more women and two young men. The barrels contained chains and collars, enough to enslave all the elves here and more.
These elves would be the first of many. An entire village was to be brought here to Adhelm. To increase the slave population and give nobles the servants they wanted. Unadulterated, obedient slaves who had no rights of their own.
But why here? Why now?
“Are you my master now?” one of the young male elves asked. He looked barely older than twelve. He was short for his age, and his voice hadn’t deepened yet. Serra was taken back at his question. “I can work. I got good hands. Like my papa’s.”
She didn’t dare ask where the boy’s father was. The truth was written in the scars around his wrists and the bruises on his face and arms. His father was no longer alive. That much was clear. These people were torn from their homes. Their families. Taken against their will and those who fought against it were killed.
What am I going to do? I can’t let them enslave them. They could face the same end as— She stopped the thought. She knew what would happen to them. Nylain and Velatha’s faces flashed in her mind. Theren, who was starving when she first met him. All elves who were forced into servitude.
Elves have no rights.
No one can help me.
Grom knew about all of this. He seemed too pleased with himself to know otherwise. Curling her hands into fists, she resisted the urge to hit something. Rage boiled inside her blood, rippling throughout her body. I am not a slave trader, she told herself. I can’t let this happen.
The three younger female elves huddled together, holding on for dear life. Their plain dresses were tattered and covered in hay and dirt. All three of them had auburn hair, and one of them was shorter than the other two. The similarities in their facial features between them told Serra they were sisters.
The mother crawled out of the box with her son, watching Serra like she expected the worst. She lowered her head, staring at the wooden floor. These women would be forced to… perform services for their masters.
It wasn’t acceptable. She couldn’t let that happen.
She turned back to the boy. “No,” she finally said. “I’m not your master.”
The boy tilted his head, confused by her statement. The three other puffy-eyed girls stared at her. A flicker of hope touched their faces then terror appeared. They thought she meant that she would give them to their new master.
“No, I am not your master. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let him have you. Any of you.” She pulled out her dagger and walked out of the building.
The men dressed in black were gone, but a large bag of coin laid in Grom’s palm. His lip curled upward when he tested the weight of the bag. The deal had been made, and he was beyond pleased with himself. He barely had time to react when Serra punched him squarely in the stomach and then his jaw, forcing him down onto his knees.
He spat blood, glaring at her. “You bi—”
She silenced him by placing the dagger against his throat, pressing just enough to trickle blood. The others stood still when they saw the icy rage in her eyes. The elves followed her out of the building but remained at the doorway, watching. Waiting to see what would happen. Finn and Caden’s mouths hung open when they figured out what was happening.
“You son of a bitch. You are having us transport slaves. This is not what we signed up for. We are thieves. We are smugglers, but people are not on our services.” She shifted the dagger to force Grom to look up at her. “I don’t care who you think you are, but I will not allow this to happen. Here is how it’s going be, Grom. You will let me and my friends leave. You will let these slaves go, and you will not follow either of us. You will let all of us be, or I’ll slice you open right here, right now.”
“Y-You think I’d let someone like—like you intimidate me?” Grom choked.
She dug the blade into his throat. “How much is your life worth? Keep our pay. Keep your money. The job has been finalized. If they managed to lose their cargo, it’s on them, not you. But here and now, your life is in my hands, Grom. So, answer the question. How much is your life worth to you?”
Benedict took the chance and attempted to attack Serra, only to be stopped by Caden with a dagger at his back. Finn drew his axes and aimed them at the other’s heads. “Any one of you try to go after her, I’ll cut you all down. Grom ain’t worth a damn to any of you. I’d suggest you find other work.”
Everyone but Benedict dropped their weapons and ran off. Caden dug the dagger into Benedict’s back. “Stop,” Grom ordered. “All right, girl. You win. Let us go, and I promise you won’t be bothered. No number of slaves is worth this shit.”
Serra carefully released him then kicked her heel into his back. He landed on his face. She pointed her dagger to Benedict. “That goes for you as well. All of this ends now.” He said nothing and looked to Grom who nodded, giving him the go ahead. Caden released them.
“Now! Get out of here!” Caden commanded. Benedict rushed over to Grom and helped him stand. They didn’t look back once at Serra and her friends.
“You sure know how to get us into a shit-storm, don’t you?” Finn jested. Serra ignored him and walked over to the slaves, sheathing her dagger.
“You are free. I suggest you take the ship back to your home. Do you know how to sail?”
They looked at one another, and the one boy raised his hand. “My papa was a fisher. I’m not good but…”
“But what?” said Caden.
“I don’t know how to get home. Our whole village… it burned. I don’t know if there’s anything left,” the boy explained.
Finn crossed his arms. “Well, that changes things.”
The woman with a child stood forward. “We will find a way. Thank you. I never expected… this from your kind.”
Serra hung her head, staring at her feet. Theren also didn’t think much of her race. She lifted her chin. “Not all of us are like that.”
And with that, Serra and her friends left the elves and headed home. Finn stopped and picked up the pouch filled with coin that Grom had left behind. He flashed a victorious grin and then tucked it away to count later.
The last thing Serra expected was slaves. Slaves. While Finn made it clear to her as they walked back to the Square Serpent that he was conflicted about their decision to go against Grom, she knew she had done the right thing. People were people and that meant the elves as well.
Yet it made Serra worry about what this meant for Adhelm. If Grom’s new client was trading in slavery, how many more was he planning to bring into the city? The laws allowed the citizens to have slaves, but there wasn’t anything specifying that they couldn’t trade them within the city limits. As far as she could guess, what Grom was doing was only frowned upon rather than enforced. Maybe he was paying the duke’s cut under the table, and in
return, Grom would have the city guards keep their eyes elsewhere. This was assuming the guards even cared. Captain Falck didn’t exactly hold elven lives sacred.
Public executions and a black-market slave trade. Both of which were within her new home.
How would she deal with this? She wanted to help them. More specifically, she wanted to help Theren. A sack of apples would only feed him for a short while, and he was taking a lot of risks by drugging his master into a stupor so he could leave without his master knowing.
No one can help me.
His words made more sense now. Was it possible that he knew what was going on? He was taken from his home and brought here by his master from Osthollow. It wouldn’t be hard for him to meet others who had met the same fate. In addition, to bring these slaves here in the city meant there were buyers. Somewhere, some place, these trades were happening. Serra knew she would need to find its location before more lives were taken. The question was how and who was involved.
Captain Falck’s face entered her mind. As protective as she was to make sure those slaves were executed, it would make sense that she could be involved. It seemed too easy, though. And there would be little point for her to do it. As captain, she had power and resources. Her job was to uphold order in the city. More slaves wouldn’t provide her more power. If anything, it would give her more of a headache to deal with it because if all the lords and ladies wanted to get rid of their slaves, they would go to her about it. Getting their hands dirty wasn’t their style, and they would want to keep their flawless reputation as Sostar’s citizens.
“Would you two mind if… if I stayed with you? I don’t think I’ll be allowed back at the base now,” Caden muttered as he nervously wiped his hands on his pants.
“Of course. You helped us back there,” said Finn with a smile.
Serra concurred. “It would be safer for all of us to stick together. I doubt Grom will stay away forever. I did just cost him a lot of gold and potentially his new client.”
Rise of the Champion (The Champion Book 1) Page 7