Rise of the Champion (The Champion Book 1)

by Clara C. Johnson

Before he could argue with her further, she walked toward the house. The gate was barely holding onto its hinges as they were rusting to a deep red color. Carefully, she unhooked the lock and closed it behind her. She made her way up the uneven steps and knocked on the door.

  “Hello?” she called out. “I apologize for bothering you, but my friends and I are looking for information about Redwood.”

  A few moments passed before the door cracked open. A woman with similar dark hair was at the door. She looked like she was in her early thirties. She was potentially younger than she appeared. Her skin was dark, but there was a lightness to it as if she hadn’t seen the sun in a long time. Malnourished, perhaps. Her face was narrow and thin.

  “Hello. My name is Serra Blackburn. I—”

  “What do you want? Are you from the guard? We will have our payment next week. I just need more time.”

  Guard? Did she think they were from the guard from the city? Was the captain demanding taxes from them? It would have to be something she would need to investigate when all of this was settled.

  Serra shook her head. “No, ma’am. We traveled here because…” She trailed off. She wasn’t sure if it would be wise to tell her exactly why they had come there. Instead, she said, “A friend of ours was hurt, and we think the person responsible may be hiding in the forest. May I come in?”

  The woman looked past Serra at the others. “Are they your slaves? The elves and the… dwarf?”

  “No. Friends. They are free men.”

  The woman turned away from the door, allowing her to enter. Serra waved over her friends before going in. Inside, the cottage was in rough shape. Bits of wood lining the walls had either cracked or broken off completely. The air was damp, and a faint smell of mold filled her nostrils.

  Creaking sounds echoed underneath Serra’s boots as she followed the woman into a larger room with two chairs and a fireplace, and various paintings covered the walls. The shelves held old containers and teapots with painted flowers on their bellies.

  The woman sat as the little girl Serra had seen earlier rushed over to her mother’s lap. “My name is Mary. This is my daughter Olive.”

  Serra offered a small smile to Olive then sat. The others slowly trailed in but remained by the doorway. “What is it you want to know exactly?”

  Serra shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “Has there been any… strange occurrences either in or out of the forest? Anyone you’ve seen coming and going?”

  Mary shook her head. “Not that I can recall. The only people who come here are those guards from the city taking what little we have. I barely have enough for cloth and food.”

  With no obvious sign of a husband, it was easy to assume that Mary and Olive were alone to take care of themselves. Whatever happened to him, he clearly left them very little.

  Her fingers curled into a fist. She would need to find out what was going on with the guards.

  Captain Falck wasn’t the most welcoming nor was she willing to listen during the execution. But there wasn’t much she could do about it now. The rebellion had to take priority right now. There was too much at stake.

  Deciding to change the subject, Serra asked how long they had been living at the cottage.

  “Since my husband disappeared. He went to the city one day and never came home. Whenever I asked the guard that came here, they said he simply must’ve ‘lost his way’. They have since refused to respond to any of my questions. I tried going into the city, but…” Mary trailed off.

  Serra looked at the others. Aravar stared out the window, ignoring Mary. Leo scoffed and walked back outside.

  “Can we do anything for you? I can fix some of the… things you have around here. I just need some tools,” Finn said.

  Serra stood quickly and pulled Finn to the hallway out of earshot. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m offering to help the poor woman. I mean, look at her.”

  “I want to help her too, but we are on a mission right now.”

  He crossed his arms and sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “We need to get moving,” said Leo. “It will be dark here in a couple of hours.”

  Serra rubbed the back of her neck. This wasn’t the best time for Finn to grow a conscience and randomly want to help strangers. She reminded him too much of that woman they worked for a couple of years back.

  Was it possible Mary was hiding information? Was there something she wasn’t telling them? Perhaps if they were to help her, they could keep an eye on the forest. Ethrond’s father was sure that he saw a sign like the one on Ethrond’s chest around here. Serra thought for a moment. Maybe if we gain her trust, Mary will tell us what we want to know.

  “Leo, I want us to stay here for a bit. I need to see if I can get more information. While we are here, we need to watch the forest’s edge. If the ones we are after are there, we will see someone come and go,” she finally said.

  His brows narrowed. “Who put you in charge? I say we move on. This human can’t tell us anything more.”

  Annoyed and frankly, done with his attitude, Serra grabbed ahold of his shirt and pulled him so that his face was within inches of hers. “A human is the only thing standing between you and a painful death. If we don’t think this through, the entire rebellion will fall. We don’t know who these people are, but we do know that they will not stop at Ethrond.”

  She shoved him away from her.

  Baffled, he stared at her with his mouth slightly open. He made an obscene gesture then walked away.

  Serra and the others spent the rest of their day helping around Mary’s farm, repairing what they could and as a thank you, Mary offered them a hot meal. It was welcomed as it was a significant change from bread and tough jerky.

  Aravar was still displeased that they stayed but made no argument. He stared out the window for the past hour, waiting for any sign. Leo kept a distance between himself and Serra, avoiding eye contact whenever possible. Theren was finishing washing the dishes for Mary as Finn went outside to return the tools to a shed behind the cottage.

  When nightfall came, Mary sent Olive to bed and pulled Serra aside.

  “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Olive, but I have seen… things,” she whispered.

  “What things?” Serra said, making sure she kept her voice low.

  Mary shook her head. “I’m not sure. Shadows. They will move through the trees beneath the moonlight. For the longest time, I just convinced myself it was just some large animal, but this thing walked on two legs. The other night, I saw someone go in there. He moved fast like he was in some hurry.”

  Could it be the same person who possessed Ethrond? Was he returning to his base to report about what he learned about the rebellion? “Was he being chased or something?”

  “Not that I could tell.”

  She thought for a long moment, chewing on her thumbnail. But her thoughts were interrupted by Theren’s hand on her shoulder. “What was it?”

  He led her to the window where Aravar stood, looking grim and serious. Aravar’s body leaned against his arm on the windowpane. He jerked his chin, forcing her attention outside.

  Someone was outside by the edge of the forest, wearing a black cloak. It was only in the moonlight that they could see him. It was too far to make out a clear image, but they could faintly see the coloring of his hands and the corner of his face that contained a dark beard.

  Serra glanced back at Mary. “Thank you for dinner, but we need to leave.”

  She nodded. “I understand. I… hope to see all of you again soon. We rarely get visitors, much less decent ones.”

  Serra wasn’t sure what to say to that but offered the tiniest smile instead. Finn came out from the back of the cottage. She signaled him to follow, and they headed straight for the edge of Redwood forest.

  In the cover of night, they reached the far edge of the forest. The moonlight shone its rays through the branches ever so slightly gracing the ground beneath. There was no sign of the
man they saw earlier. He must’ve moved further in the forest. Leo moved carefully, staring at the ground, searching for clues—footprints, snapped twigs, anything that appeared out of the ordinary.

  Serra searched for the marking burned onto Ethrond’s chest. Bits of bark were broken off on some of the trees, leaving a way for the bugs to feast upon its wood. In the corner of her eye, she saw two trees that had intertwined low branches. Examining them closer, she saw a faint carving of the mark she had been looking for.

  Whoever cut the mark in the tree took his time. Despite the moss that covered the tree at its base, the mark was left alone. Time had made it lose some of its color, making it darker as it blended into the wood. Most wouldn’t notice it unless they either stumbled upon it or actively searched for it as she was.

  She waved the others over who frowned deeply when they saw the mark. This was the sign they were looking for. It only meant they were getting close to the base. Now, their real work began.

  Leo led the group as Aravar stayed at the back of their formation. They remained close so that none of them would get lost in the night, having only a few trees between them. The night made it difficult to see exactly where they were going, but they couldn’t risk lighting a torch. It would be too easy for them to be spotted.

  After about twenty minutes, faint voices could be heard from a distance. Leo stopped as he lifted a closed fist. Pinpointing the direction, he motioned the others forward. The damp smell of the air shifted into a restricting aura. Serra was sure that it was campfire smoke. A fog formed before them.

  They converged against a fallen tree big enough to cover them over a ledge where they could see below them. There were five individuals that they could see. The man in the black cloak was in front of them with his hands pressed together in a prayer and chanting in a language she didn’t understand. The others were on their knees, bowing with their arms spreading out then inward, wrapping around their bodies. The fire between the black-cloaked man and the others flickered its embers as if responding to their prayers.

  Is this some kind of ritual? Serra turned to Leo, who simply watched. His head lowered and he pinched his nose in frustration.

  In a whisper, she said, “What do we do?”

  Leo shook his head. He was at a loss as much as she was. The numbers were even, and there was no sign of the men having weapons at their hips, but if they were using the same magic that they corrupted Ethrond with, they were no match.

  The man in the black cloak stopped chanting, remaining completely still. Serra’s breath caught in her chest. Had he heard them?

  Before she could move to retreat, she felt a hard blow on the back of her head and saw nothing but darkness.

  When Serra opened her eyes, she discovered she couldn’t move her arms freely. She and the others were tied up, lying on the ground before the cloaked man with a smug look covering his face.

  “Finally awake?” a man said in a deep voice. When she looked up at him, he removed the hood of his cloak, revealing his face. His eyes were dark, and black veins protruded outward. They were the same eyes she had seen months ago when she worked for Grom.

  Quickly, she saw the others were the same. Their faces were covered by similar masks she had seen before, covering their mouths and parts of their nose. They each stared cruelly at her, as if imagining stabbing her with knives. She and the others must’ve interrupted something important.

  “You must be the girl I’ve heard so much about. It was reported that some small blonde-haired girl was responsible for the loss of Slaterock.” He snickered. “Hard to believe the reports were right. You don’t look like much to me.”

  She glared at him. “Perhaps you shouldn’t judge everything you see.”

  Theren growled, pulling at his ropes. Aravar spat at one of the others, earning him a kick to his stomach. Leo shifted, trying to calm him. Finn remained still, holding his head low. He was either thinking of a way to get out of the ropes or he was already working on cutting them with the small knife in his sleeve.

  “What do these elves mean to you, girl? Clearly, you are no princess and need this many slaves.” A bored question.

  “We are not slaves!” Theren snapped.

  “Silence!” The man behind him smacked Theren on the back of his head.

  Anger boiled Serra’s blood. “Leave him alone!” She would be sure to kill him first.

  The assumed leader chuckled. “Ah, I understand now.” He waved his hand to one of the others. “Bring this one to my tent. I have questions.”

  Serra struggled as they grabbed her, shoving her shoulder into them, but they kept her at a distance where she couldn’t make contact. It was all a futile effort. The men were twice her size and with her limited mobility, she couldn’t fight back. She looked over her shoulder toward the others. Theren’s eyes struck her like a blow to her chest.

  He pushed himself forward to try to reach her but lost his balance. He was picked up and shoved into the others. Serra’s eyes filled with tears. They would kill them the moment the leader gave the word. She would lose him.

  Finn’s smile caught her eye. A silent shared look between them prevented her tears from falling. He winked, making it look like a twitch so their captures wouldn’t see it as anything else. It was his way of telling her he had cut through his ropes with his hidden knife. His body shifted back to back to the others. Within minutes, all their ropes would be cut.

  Serra would need to give them the signal. Once she got all the information she could out of their leader, they would attack. It brought some comfort to know Finn had her back, but it terrified her at the same time. They could still lose this battle as they had no way to fight magic. Who knew what they were capable of?

  The man on her right carried her sword in his hand. She would need to find some way to get it from him.

  They led her about a hundred feet away from the others into a tent she couldn’t see before in the fog. The leader waved his hand, and her ropes were cut. They forced her to sit in the chair before a large table.

  “Tell me,” he said as he poured a clear liquid into two glasses, “What’s your name?”

  When he placed the glass in front of her, she watched him suspiciously. He sighed then drank from his own. “I can promise you it’s just water. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t waste resources by poisoning you.”

  She picked it up and sniffed it then took the tiniest sip. He was right, it was just water. “Now, your name?”

  “You first. Only fair since you tied me and my friends up. It would only be polite.”

  He chuckled. “Feisty little one, aren’t you? All right. You may call me Ewen.”

  That name… why was it so familiar? “Serra.”

  “Well, Serra. I would love to hear how you came upon my city and the rebellion against it.” A shiny gold ring caught her eye. Very valuable. Only fit for a… That’s it! Realization hit her like a punch to the stomach.

  She smirked. “You’re the Duke of Adhelm. The right hand of the king.” It only made sense. She felt so stupid for not realizing it before. He had control over the city. He saw who and what came through its shores. Who else would be so determined to terminate the rebellion? But what she didn’t understand was how he got involved in this cult.

  All that power. All those resources. He was almost unstoppable.

  “Clever. I do well to keep my face away from the common eye.”

  That would explain why it was always rumors I heard and never saw him personally. “Are you the leader of this… cult?”

  He stood from his chair, staring at the tent wall behind him. “I suppose you could call what we are that, though it is such an ugly term. We are the Black Trinitas.” Serra remained silent. Just how much would he spill if she let him talk?

  “Our mission is to return the gods to the world so we may live in the paradise we were gifted so long ago. No wars. No sickness.” He turned to face her. “Don’t you ever wish the world was a better place? That the threat of war wasn
’t always at our doorstep?”

  Admittedly, she did, but that was how the world worked. It was unfair and cruel. If anyone found a touch of happiness, they were lucky and must hold onto it. “I’m sure everyone does in their own way, but as to what that exactly means to each individual is up for debate.”

  He nodded. “True. Crelia abolished slavery and now assumes that everyone else should. They would even go to war to do it. But it’s only a mask. An excuse to declare war on the rest of us who follow a more… traditional approach.”

  “I hear they do economically well despite their so-called flawed approach.” Between Finn and Caden, she kept up with any new information about Crelia. A rebellion wouldn’t fare well if there was a war. There would be too many armed, ready for battle and would easily defeat the broken city of Adhelm.

  “Rumors, of course. They must prove their strength. Manipulate the minds of the common folk, and the country will thrive.”

  “Is that what you’re doing? Controlling the minds of the common folk?” She finished her drink then placed it on the table, but her hand remained grasping it.

  Ewen smiled proudly, clearly amused by her remark. “It’s a slow process, but once the gods return, there will be world order.”

  Serra let out a breath. He was clearly mad. It made her wonder what this meant for the king. Where did he fit into all of this? Did he believe in this shite? Maybe something happened to him for the duke to have so much power. It was possible he was dead. What that would mean for her and the others would need to be followed up later.

  She rubbed the glass. “May I have some more water? I’m afraid my friend finished my last bit hours ago and I am quite thirsty.”

  Ewen eyed her but moved toward the pitcher. When his eyes were no longer fixed on her, she quickly stood and threw the glass at a guard’s face. The impact was hard enough to shatter it into pieces. The other moved, ready to strike. She kicked the chair in front of him, tripping him.

  Stunned, she took advantage of this and grabbed her sword as she blocked an attack. Within seconds, she killed the two guards then faced Ewen, who smirked.