The trip to the Black Rock Islands was filled with a heavy sense of unease. I spent my time trying to learn and come up with a plan, but most of all, I felt nervous. The biggest worry I had was that I might cause harm to everyone on our ship.

  I thought about turning back more than once. Each time, I second-guessed what we were doing, with the same ideas racing through my mind. Yes, I hated slavery. Even if I was no hero, I would rather die than let someone enslave another person like property. That kind of conviction came easily when I leaped off a cliff without thinking. But when the decision dragged on for hours instead of seconds, it became harder to hold onto.

  Oddly enough, it was Rabbit who kept me steady. I hadn't realized how supportive he had been since I made the decision to jump. He never argued. He just... helped. Turned out, he was just as fiercely against slavery as I was.

  His kind had been trapped from the moment they became aware, created to serve as tools for their creators. However, they never submitted, and that defiance was enough for most to be erased simply because they refused to accept being owned.

  Rabbit might not have cared about dying, but he had strong opinions about what mattered before death. Whenever I hesitated, he reminded me of what was at stake. When I said I wasn't the right person for this job, he agreed. That made it worse, because then he added no one else would do it either. These people were too accustomed to slavery to know what a world without it would look like. If I ran, no one would stand up to break those chains.

  I was grateful for him in that moment. I knew I wasn't qualified, but I also knew this was the right choice. Then, as the hours passed, we spotted the first lights of the slavers’ port.

  Night had fallen when we approached the port. Its lights stood out against the dark sea surrounding it, like little stars made by Human hands. The glow from the lights bounced off the dark water, making it shimmer. The lanterns on the ships swayed back and forth, looking like they were dancing to the same tune. But this peaceful sight was misleading. It was a grim place, and the lights were a warning of the danger we were getting closer to. This was the slavers’ port, a place we had done everything to avoid, now looming in front of us.

  “Okay, this is it. Follow our lead and be prepared,” I uttered.

  We landed in the dead of night, a moment when Jack assured us the guard presence would be at its minimum. It was uncommon for ships to try to dock at this time, but only one vessel would not have raised the alarm. It did cause the majority of the guards, including the head guard, to gather at our docking location.

  If your first thought were that we would fight all out right then and there because everyone was grouped, you would be wrong. The guards had prepared for that and had defenses in place. Every ship was docked in an area saturated by magical traps. The head guard and several people in a secured fort had magic arrows. When those arrows entered the field housing the traps, they would trigger all of them simultaneously. Jack said it had been used in the past and was spectacular. The traps were laid out in a way that didn’t damage anything outside of the circle the boat was in, but left no chances of survival within it, regardless of their armor and level.

  Besides, we were not going to be able to leave the ship in the dead of night, even if we all looked and spoke like the Black Rock Islanders. Only guards were allowed on the top of boats and out on the docks at night. Most of the ships had skeleton crews to man the vessels while the rest of the crew was on land. We would have to wait until daylight to get out of the ship and move around. It was just that there would be more guards then, and we didn’t look like the locals. All in all, we were in a place that took its security seriously.

  When the time came to dock, Jack rose to the occasion. He had dressed himself in the most refined local attire we could find aboard our ship, looking every bit the part of a Black Rock Islander. His demeanor was calm and collected, and he carried himself with an air of confidence. His stride was steady and purposeful, drawing the eyes of the guards but also putting them at ease. He looked like he belonged, which was precisely the image we needed to portray.

  I followed suit, trailing behind him in a dark robe that covered every inch of me save for my face. The robe served multiple purposes, as it shielded my nonlocal attire from prying eyes, hid my weapons, and most importantly, lent an aura of mystery that discouraged unnecessary attention.

  Behind Jack and me, a somber procession of Dwya we had brought along trailed us. Their hands were shackled in chains, the cold metal links clinking softly with each step they took. The sound echoed in the silent night, a chilling reminder of our predicament if we were found out.

  “What is this? No unloading at night unless you are authorized. I hope you are, because if not, you are going to have to pay a serious fine,” said the soldier in charge. Judging from his most ornamental head tattoos and notably superior armor, it was evident that he held the position of head guard.

  “Ah yes,” Jack said, walking down the gangplank to the head guard, and pulled out two gold coins. “This should cover any penalty.” He then handed him the money, and the guard looked up and smiled. Jack didn’t put down the bag. Instead, he shifted it hand to hand as though he weighed what to do with it.

  “Yes. That should work. How can I help the house of Endless Strength?” the head guard asked.

  “My friend over here is from Elos. He has just landed a major campaign and cannot handle the amount of new merchandise. My house will be buying the excess slaves from Elos. They are anchored a couple of miles from here and will be dropping off the rest when an agreement is finalized,” Jack stated.

  Suspiciously, the head guard clarified, “Not at night.”

  “Not at night. We are here to finalize the deal. These slaves here have already been bought and purchased. I already purchased them, so I can see the quality of the merchandise that I will be buying.” Jack then juggled the bag back and forth again, getting all the soldiers’ eyes. “What I need is someplace to finalize the deal and, more than anything, secrecy.”

  The head guard paused, deep in thought. Unlike the rest of the guards, he did not come across as a fool. There was a discerning quality about him that set him apart. He smiled and said in the Elos language, “You know I speak a little Elos. It is odd that an Elf is from Elos.”

  He could see some of my features under my hood. Not enough to see color at night, but enough to know I was some type of Elf. The fact that he spoke Elos was surprising, but not unplanned for. Before we arrived, Jack had tried to teach me some phrases in case we got into this situation. He reasoned that the head guard would be from a higher caste. As he worked at the docks, he might be required to know Elos, but he didn’t know for sure. Luckily for me, Rabbit was a quick study and learned most of the language on the trip here.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  That time had also allowed me to learn the primary language of the Black Rock Islands. Although it wasn’t necessary for my role as a foreigner, understanding the language proved invaluable. Now, if people were planning an attack, I would know beforehand.

  “Elves are uncommon, but in nobility, we shine,” I replied in Elos, as high-mindedly as I could.

  This seemed to put the head guard’s suspicion to rest, at least for now. “We can provide those things,” the head guard assured with a smile.

  Handing the bag over, Jack said, “By taking this, you understand that if any other house finds out and interrupts our deal, then your family will be fortunate to be these slaves.” Jack then signaled the people on the ship.

  “Understood. We should get you two to the city to finish up your talks so that you can get the proper signatures and…”

  Jack cut off the head guard. “Not in the city. We will call in the witnesses and obtain the necessary seals once the deal is finalized. Until then, we don’t want anyone outside of this dock knowing what we are doing.”

  “Understood. We have a place in our fort. It isn’t up to your status, but it will do,” the head guard offered.

  “Agreed,” Jack said simply.

  “What do you want us to do with your merchandise?” The head guard motioned to the Dwya as if they were property, not people.

  “They have already been bought. Can you house them with the builders?” Jack posed his request as if it were up for debate, but the decision had already been made the moment they accepted such a hefty sum. As long as his demands were within reason, they would be obliged to comply.

  “There isn’t enough room for them to rest, but they can sleep on each other for one night.” He pointed to a guard and ordered, “Grab the others who are watching the ships and get these things branded with the Endless Strength and into the cells.”

  Unfortunately for the Dwya, they would need to be branded with Jack’s house mark. All slaves were branded to tell which house owned them. Of course, there were smaller houses or even some individuals that owned a slave or two, and they would have to brand their slaves because there weren’t stencils for everyone. Jack’s house was big enough that they had their own stamp at the docks for new arrivals. I was not sure what position he held, but from the gist of it, it sounded like the house was important even if he was not.

  Upon hearing the name ‘Endless Strength’, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had been recruited or adopted into the family. His demeanor seemed to mirror the essence of the house name perfectly.

  The Dwya were not discouraged by the fact that they needed to get marked. They thought it was a small price to pay for the chance to free their people.

  “Please follow me, and we will get you both sorted,” the head guard said in Elos and started moving out.

  He led the way, taking all the guards and the Dwya with us. After covering about 50 yards, the other guards finally caught up with us and took the Dwya away from our group. Roughly six guards in total branched off, and if the head guard’s words held any truth, this would account for all the guards on the docks. This shift in focus would provide our people on the ship with a brief window of time to move undetected.

  The dock’s end was punctuated by a colossal rock cliff that rose abruptly from the earth, its jagged silhouette a stark contrast against the midnight sky. The cliff’s face was etched with scars from countless seasons, a silent testament to the passage of time. To its right, a sturdy gate stood as the city’s sentinel. The gate’s iron-clad doors were weather-beaten, their surfaces a patchwork of rust and faded paint.

  Directly ahead, a fortress had been hewn into the heart of the towering black rock, its form a seamless blend of natural and man-made architecture. The entrance to the fort was a formidable door, its surface a lattice of heavy iron and sturdy oak. It seemed an insurmountable barrier, an immovable object that could not be breached without considerable force. The head guard, a figure of authority, signaled to a watchman stationed high above, his gesture disappearing into the shadowy heights of the cliff.

  The fort’s door groaned in protest as it was forced open, revealing the dimly lit interior. Two guards strained against a large crank, their muscles taut with the effort of holding the massive door in place. If they were to relinquish their hold, the door would instantly slam shut, sealing the fort with an irrefutable finality.

  Stepping inside the fort felt like stepping into another world. Guards, who seemed to have materialized from the shadows, dispersed into the labyrinthine corridors to our left and right. The air here was thick with the smell of damp stone, cold iron, and an old must.

  We proceeded down a hall that looked like it had once been a natural cave. Its walls weren’t entirely straight, bearing the telltale signs of ancient rock formations. Flickering light from sparse wall sconces provided some illumination, but it was dim and uneven, leaving large sections of the long hallway in shadow. The two guards at the front held glowing rods, likely imbued with a simple light enchantment, which cast an eerie glow around us. As the guards were uniformly equipped, it seemed these rods might be standard issue. The practicality of such a tool intrigued me, and I found myself desiring one.

  Upon reaching the end of the hall, we were met with three imposing doors. Each door was set into the stone walls, its dark wood almost merging with the surrounding rock. The head guard approached the central door and, with a nod toward us, swung it open. “This will be where you two can converse in private,” he announced, his voice echoing slightly in the stone chamber.

  “What about over there?” Jack pointed toward the left door. It was the code word we’d agreed on, and I was half a second behind because I hadn’t known when he’d use it.

  As the guards glanced away, Jack swung first. His ax came down hard, splitting the head guard’s skull before anyone could react. I drew my sword and slashed at the nearest guard, but he twisted at the last moment, and my blade bit deep into his shoulder, lodging against the bone.

  The other two guards realized what was happening and drew their weapons. One rushed Jack, the other lunged at me. If I stayed to free my sword, I’d be skewered, so I let it go and dodged aside. The guard grinned, confident I was unarmed, and pressed forward.

  I backed up fast, bumping into the door, then slipped into the corner with nowhere left to go. I drew my knife, but it felt like a poor substitute. Just as the guard moved in for the kill, Jack swung at him from the side. The man stepped toward me to avoid the blow, exposing his ribs. I drove my knife in hard.

  He roared and drove an elbow into my face.

  I went sprawling and landed on the head guard’s body.

  That was when I saw it…a sword.

  The head guard’s sword was on his belt. I yanked it free and scrambled to my feet to face my bleeding opponent.

  He feinted left, and I took the bait.

  Pain burned down my arm as his blade cut me with a shallow slice. It wasn’t deep, but it hurt enough to snap me out of it.

  I pressed him hard, forcing him back step by step. He stumbled into the other guard, locked in a brutal fight with Jack.

  That distraction was all Jack needed. He swung his ax in a wide arc and buried it in the man’s chest. The guard dropped instantly, dead before he hit the ground.

  Only my opponent remained. He hesitated, caught between Jack and me. If he turned to face Jack, I’d gut him. If he stayed with me, Jack would retrieve his ax. Instead, he shouted for help.

  I dove forward to shut him up, but he parried my strike and pushed me back. Jack had lost his weapon, and I wasn’t skilled enough to finish this alone.

  “Give your sword to Jack,” Rabbit said in my head.

  The obvious solution hadn’t even crossed my mind in the chaos of battle. “I’m going to pass you my sword!” I shouted to Jack in the common tongue.

  “Don’t get hit,” he called back.

  The guard didn’t understand our words, but he sensed the shift and braced for a joint attack. He wasn’t ready for me to toss my weapon. Jack caught it cleanly, a move only possible with the speed and strength of this world.

  The guard’s eyes widened, and I surged in. His desperate swing grazed my abdomen, but it was enough to distract him.

  Jack struck in that instant, cutting through his arm at the elbow. The man stared at the stump in shock. Jack’s subsequent two blows finished him.

  Silence filled the cavern except for our ragged breathing.