A Slave to the Dark

“You want me to kill… What exactly?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was almost surely insanity.

“I do not want you to kill anyone. Your duty will be to seek out information. You are in fact not allowed to kill except to preserve your own life and return to us the information desired.” My employer was an “elf”, pointy ears and all. Supposedly a ranger, he had approached me three days ago to investigate two individuals, one “Remoras Trueshot” was suspected of selling his compatriots into slavery. The other “Fedder Eislen” was supposedly the man he was selling them to.

“Your task is dangerous. We have arranged some minor assistance for you, as well as suitable equipment to make your life easier. This is a list of potential weaknesses in the slaving ring. Investigate them all, or not. The other item is a small work of magic. An amulet that will bring you safely from the enemy if it is broken. Anyone touching you will be brought along, so you must take care in its use, lest you bring your enemies with you.” He held up what was the equivalent of a case file in these parts, and passed me a small necklace.

“I’ll start looking into things tonight. Where can I find this “Remoras” character?” I knew where to start with this. My last job had been well away from here, but not so different in scope, a job to investigate a company rather than a person, but still an investigation. That job had turned exceedingly violent towards the end, and I was prepared for the same eventuality here.

“All of the information you need is contained in the document I have provided. I will take my leave. Please try not to get killed. If you succeed, I have more work for you.” He got up and left, crossing from the chair he had been seated at, and exiting through the main door. The house was small, and I was technically trespassing living here. But the owner was very (un?)dead at the moment, and I needed a place to stay. The fact that he would ask me not to get killed was slightly unsettling, even for one of the weirdo elves that cropped up all over around here.

“Yeah… I like living, thanks…” I looked at the sheets of paper; they were heavy cloth paper, like the few twentieth century bills I still held on to, and the script was flowing, and a general pain in the ass to read.

“Remoras Trueshot is headquartered at a large waterfront warehouse, where he holds meetings with the large refugee population, and gives speeches on a regular basis. It is also here that we believe he selects those who will depart Raiaera and be sold into slavery. Most are in fact humans that escaped the Horde, but a few are fellow Elves. It does not seem to bother him to…The fuck is that word supposed to be?” I was reading aloud, the only way I could figure out the damn elfy writing, but even phonetics and fifth grade cursive were failing me at this point.

I gave up reading the paper. My eyes were starting to hurt as the sun set, and I got ready to start my first mission in this blasted city. I had all the information I needed, and I got dressed for work. My jeans went on first, replacing the linen trousers I wore for meetings. My belt, and the heavy Stars and Bars buckle that secured it followed, one loop, a knife, two more loops, another knife, last loop from the end, and my last knife was secured. I picked up the slim wrist sheath that held my throwing knives, and strapped it on, before sliding the knives themselves in, and checking they were loose in their sheathes.

A quick flourish and toss, and the knife came out, flipped twice in the air, landed point first between my thumb and index finger, and disappeared back into the sheath. Finally I hefted my jacket, I slipped one arm into a sleeve, spun the thick leather over my head, and the other sleeve fell right into place. A couple quick shakes and it was settled perfectly on my shoulders. My boots came last, non-slip, oil resistant, steel toed, they were modern, and I loved them in this backwater hell hole of a world more than anything else. A quick pop of my back and neck, and I was out the door, heading for the waterfront.

The city reminded me of what New York must have been like in the past. Dirty, smelly, pervaded by a sense of rot and despair. A chuckle escaped my lips as I realized that actually described the New York I was familiar with pretty well too. A hand reached for my waist, and my coin belt, and left with a broken finger. Street people were the same too. Human or Elf, they were all scum. “Hey, kid. Do that again and you’ll pull back a stump.”

I kept walking, leaving the injured pick pocket behind. I didn’t care he’d tried to rob me. He’d failed, been punished, and I was busy.

“You here for the meeting?” The voice came from a ragged looking man, and a pair of equally ragged looking elves. They were all wearing a similar badge I didn’t recognize, but their arms were thick, and they carried themselves like fighters.

“Yeah. What’s it to you?” I knew better than to act suspicious or deny my intent, but the fact that they picked me out so easily was unsettling. Like they knew I was coming.

“We were told to meet all newcomers, and bring them to Remoras after the meeting.” I looked past them and saw a small crowd of people, elves and humans, and realized that this was the indoctrination party. I looked around a bit more, and realized I’d made the water front faster than I expected. Lost in thought, I’d wandered right to my destination, without ever intending to get this close tonight.

“Well that’s great that is. I hear he’s just a brilliant man he is.” I immediately laid on a stupid enthusiastic act, and started to walk past them to join the small group milling near one of the warehouses.

“You will have to surrender your knives.” My eyes narrowed immediately, and I just as quickly let them fly open again. There was no reason to take my weapons unless they thought I was a threat. A quick once over showed that everyone in the group had at least one empty sheath or quiver, and a small strongbox was sitting next to the trio that I had overlooked before.

“Both of my knives? You’ll give ‘em back later right? Them and my hammer’s all I got left from my home, and I can’t be doin without ‘em for long.” It was true, they were all I had with me from Corone. In my off time I was working as a carpenter, helping build or reinforce buildings near the outer walls. This new job was going to kill that one, but that was fine, so long as the pay was right.

“Yeah, both of em. You’ll get em back after the meetin.” The human spoke again this time, and gestured towards the box. I pulled out my trench knife first, and dropped it into the open box with a metallic clatter. My trench spike came next, and the man almost laughed when he saw it.

“What’s that then? A knife? You keep that dull chunk of weight right there. Call that a knife.” I almost grinned, both at his response, and his unintentional quotation. Apparently Crocodile Dundee was universal. I slipped the trench spike back into its sheath, and walked past the guards. They were enthusiastic, but inexperienced as GUARDS. I still had almost all of my weapons, and I was plenty deadly enough to take them out if push came to shove.

“How many is that? Sixteen?” The second elf spoke up for the first time, and did a quick head count, ticking us off one by one, like cattle. Cattle or…Shit. I realized as we were counted that I had left the amulet sitting on my table back at home.

We were ushered from the wharf into a warehouse, well lit and full of people. Most of them were obviously guards or sailors, but the two that caught my eye were dead in the center of the room. Remoras was obviously the taller plainly dressed one with the pointy ears. The Captain was his almost exact opposite, shorter, thicker, and obviously half human. His false eye was also a dead giveaway. My eyes roamed over the rest of the warehouse, and I did not like what I saw. Pens to hold slaves, brands to mark slaves, chains to bind slaves… I had my employers slaving operation alright. Now I just had to avoid becoming a slave.

My boots scuffed on the dirt floor, and I looked over the room again. As my eyes drifted over them, it seemed as though Remoras and Fedder reached an agreement, as Remoras took a large stack of coins, slid them into a pouch, and left.

“Alright the lot of you. My name is Captain Fedder. I’ll be taking you away from here, probably to Alerar or Corone, depending who’ll pay the most for you. You’re mine now, and we’ll be leaving fore the night is through.” A horrified muttering began in the middle of the group, but they didn’t try and stop anything. They had let themselves be disarmed, and I didn’t have a choice. There were way too many guards, and they were going to get my bowie, and probably my throwing knives too now that we were going to be branded.

“You all form up into two lines, one for the men folk, and one for the women. We’ll start things off from there.” Guards walked into the crowd, and started breaking up families and couples, taking men and forcing them away from any woman they were with. I looked around and realized the number had swelled. There were almost a hundred of us now. More groups had been brought in by other “guards” and they had gotten a fair selection of people and body types.

“Alright now, everyone strip off your clothes. Any hidden weapons you give em up now and we don’t beat you senseless.” The two lines looked horrified, but the women barely resisted, and the men not at all. Guards walked up to the ones that did and kicked them in the backs of the knees, knocking them to the ground. Then they took out knives and just cut the clothes off of them, being none too gentle about it.

“The women get branded inside the wrist, the men on the chest. While you’re at it, pick out your entertainment for tonight, alright boys?” The pirates cheered, and started walking the lines, grabbing whoever they wanted to use or abuse for the night. A small boy next to me was grabbed by a dirty looking man who had to weigh twice as much as I did, and was a good four inches shorter. I was grabbed by a man only marginally less vile, and forced up to the fire. The boy screamed when they branded him, but I knew he’d be screaming more, and worse by the end of the night. It was my turn next, and I grunted as the man forced me to my knees, before gasping in pain when the hot iron struck my chest. I could smell the hair burning, and feel the flesh pull away when they pulled away the brand. It was complicated, a bit like Celtic knot work, but different at the same time.

“Get yer clothes on pretty boy. Yer gonna have a lot more to scream about tonight ye are.” I put my pants and shirt back on, following the example everyone else had set, and I even managed to get my boots and jacket back on, before they started escorting us one at a time towards the ships. I saw the name in bright letters across the prow of the one I had been sent to. The August Lord. I was a prisoner on Fedder’s own ship, which was perfect. I could kill him and his pirates, and get the hell back to shore. My hope solidified even more when we reached the ship, and I realized that the majority of the sailors, other than the riggers obviously, were slaves just like I was now.

“Y’all are in such shit…” I spoke quietly, and the pirate smacked the back of my head when he heard me.

“The only sound I want to hear out of you is gaggin when I jam my cock in yer throat. Ye better do as I tellya to, or I’mma really make ya hurt.” He was already unlacing his cod piece, but he was going to have another thing coming if he thought I’d put that in my mouth. I’d had and given blowjobs before, but where I was from, my boyfriends or girlfriends had heard of bathing, and this…thing had obviously not. He took me down below decks, where we were the first pair back to the ship after getting the branding out of the way, and I hoped I’d have enough time to cripple him and escape before the rest started to get back.

He made me get on my knees, and then set aside the knife he’d been holding, since he apparently needed two hands to open his pants. I took advantage of his clumsiness, and started unlacing them for him, letting them fall to the floor, and looking up at him as it fell loose.

“If you’re gentle, I can make it well worth you while…” I looked as innocent as possible and licked my lips, while I ran my hands over him. He looked excited, and started his hand towards the back of my head. His hand stopped as soon as my fingers dug in, gripping his balls so hard he gasped and almost fainted from the shock. I pulled and twisted, and he dropped to the floor, unmanned and unable to fight back. I slammed my free fist into his crotch from where I was now kneeling above him, and started to stand up, planting my foot between his legs as I rose. He was speechless from agony by this point, and I kicked him in the head, crushing his face in, and killing him almost instantly.

“Whaddya know, it WASN’T worth your while after all. God my hands smell nasty now…” I picked up the knife he’d been using, and grabbed another one off of his belt. The next pirate to come down was carrying the boy from before, and had obviously already started. He had the boy’s pants down, and was busy trying to violate him, while the boy squirmed and kicked. The sexual assault stopped almost instantly when my stolen knife entered the back of his skull, and killed him.

“Get your pants up boy and help me move the body.” The boy recovered quickly, and didn’t bother to pull up his pants before he helped me drag the corpse away from the entrance to the crew quarters. He stayed with the body, while I watched the door. He seemed to be searching it for weapons, and he pulled out a couple of knives, and a cutlass. The next two pirates to come back died the same way, and a man and a woman, both elves, joined my tiny rebellion. She remained naked, having had her clothes cut away by the pirates, but she didn’t seem any less dangerous because of it. We kept slaughtering the pirates by surprise as they came down, and our ranks swelled to nearly ten strong.

“Alright, we’re going to take the deck, and break out of here. I need to get to that strongbox and get our weapons.” The woman had found clothes somewhere, and everyone was armed in a manner they preferred. Three more men and four women were with us now, and at least one of them claimed she had some sort of “magic power” she could use to help us. I led the way up the stairs, cutting down another pirate and freeing another slave as we reached the deck. “We’re going to take this ship, then all the others they’re using to transport slaves. I’m going to kill the Captain. I need you all to watch my back while I do it.”

I was followed by a resounding cheer as we met the next pirates on deck with naked steel. Five more pirates dropped, and their “partners” took up their weapons. We lost two in the scuffle, but they were freeing sailors now, and a full scale slave rebellion was underway on the pirate ship. “They’ve got muskets! Muskets!”

The shouting sailor caught my attention, and I walked across the deck towards him. “The hell are you talking about muskets?”

He was a human, lean and fit, with a raw ring where the chain collar had been around his ankle, and he was headed towards the cabin. “A gun chest, with twenty Muskets in it. They got them in Alerar when they took their first slaves to the dark elves!”

Guns… That could tip the balance way in our favor. “Get me a chain to break the door, and help me break out the guns. We’ll hand them out and blow the fuck out of these bastards.”

The sailor didn’t say anything, and simply held up the five pound ball that had been his encumberment, and passed it to me. Another chain appeared from somewhere, and we stepped into the cabin, and hammered the doors of the chest. From outside we could hear the sounds of battle ramping up, and I was starting to get desperate.

“Jesus Christ what is this made out of?” I shouted at the sailor who had shown me the chest, but it was slightly redundant when my weight finally crunched into the wood, sending splinters flying, and opening the lock as the splintered wood collapsed around the handles.

We ripped the doors open, and pulled out the first two loaded rifles, hurrying out of the door to watch the melee unfolding on deck. The ship was a madhouse. Pirates were swarming from the other ships, and out of the warehouse, but the slaves were holding their own, cutting down pirates almost as quickly as they mounted the gangplank. “Get five other men with muskets, and follow me!”

I rushed to the side of the ship and took aim down the barrel, bringing a group of pirates into my sights. I thought it was slightly odd that it was just a front bead, and not front and rear sights, but I let it rest on my target, and squeezed the trigger. The result was shocking. I had expected the massive cloud of smoke, but I had never expected that three of the five pirates would drop like stones. The “muskets” were actually shotguns.

“HOT DAMN!” I jumped up and down, ecstatic that we actually had a chance now. My five shooters ran up carrying the rest of the muskets, and I left them to their work. “Shoot into groups, not just single pirates! They’re shotguns, and the spread could kill a bunch at once!”

I had to shout to be heard over the violence now. The pirate crews were starting to swamp my beleaguered slaves, and I leapt back into the fray. My stolen knives sliced wrists and hamstrings, cutting a path of devastation through my enemies. I tried to avoid taking anyone head on, instead supporting the people holding the deck, cutting down enemies that never saw me coming.

A blast rang out from behind me, and the gangway cleared. “Take the docks! Take the warehouses!”

I hit the plank running, and cut down my first enemy as soon as I hit the ground. My knives flashed out, and sunk deep into his neck, as crimson washed over my hands. Freed slaves followed hard on my heels, and hammered away at the pirates that were milling about on the dock. Another blast sounded from the ship, and a bunch of pirates to my right dropped in a hail of pellets. I moved for the gap, and ten or so slaves followed behind me, while the rest spread out among the other ships, slaughtering any pirate they found, and occasionally dying in return.

Shouting and horn blowing announced the arrival of the first guards, wading into the fight without any concern for wrongdoers, simply attempting to end the fight with the minimum of bloodshed. Slaves threw down their weapons when the Guard approached, but the pirates kept fighting, and pretty soon they were dying faster than ever, falling under the trained swords of the city guards, and still being killed by the freed slaves in places.

For my part, I took one look at the guards, looked around, collected a small party of freed slaves, including my last three shotgunners, and charged the warehouse. The door caved in when we hit it, and I blew through the splintered frame with fifteen freed slaves at my back. “Take out the ones on the upper level!”

The warehouse was much the same as when I had left it. In the center, braziers and a fire still burned, brands resting in the coals. Pirates were hurrying through, moving cargo and illicit goods out of the warehouse towards the dock. The only thing missing was the captain.

Shotguns roared, and a line of pirates working on the warehouse catwalks were killed almost instantly. A pirate ahead of me menaced one of the freed slaves, and I threw my right hand knife, burying it in his shoulder. My throw was well off its mark, but at least I had hit my target.

“Don’t let them get organized!” Caught by surprise, the pirates were almost universally falling under the chains and blades of the freed slaves. But a few strong pockets of resistance were forming, and my own backup was limited. There had been about forty pirates on the floor when we broke down the door, but it was down to about twenty, and only three of my fighters had been killed.

I rushed over to the weapons chest, and grabbed my trench spike, bowie, and throwing knives right off the top. I immediately threw two of my knives, dropping a pair of advancing pirates with ease. My belt popped loose, and I slipped the sheathed spike onto my belt, freeing up a hand to look for my other knife.

In the background the fire used to brand us roared, and a brazier toppled to the floor as a freed slave fell backwards into it, with a hatchet buried in his head. Coals spilled across the straw strewn planking, and roared into flame almost immediately.

"Do you seriously think your petty assault can stop us." It wasn't a question. The calm voice cut above the din of battle, reaching my ears despite the way they were ringing from the repeated gun blasts, and the roar of the flames.

"Well I sure as hell hoped so..." I muttered to myself as I turned, almost against my will towards the voice. I knew exactly who it was, without looking. Remoras. Shit.

He tugged the hatchet free as I watched, almost paralyzed by his voice.

"You can't win. These fools trust me. They trust me without question. You'll all be dead before the guards make it in here, and whatever story I tell will be the truth. You are dirt, slaves and fodder. And now you will be dead slaves. I have uses for the dead too. Enjoy your service to the Dark Lord."

I watched silently as the slaves I had freed froze in place, turning a triumphant charge into a brutal slaughter, as pirates and guards hacked, smashed, and disemboweled the survivors. My hand twitched and froze, I couldn't raise a hand against this shit no matter how I struggled.

Slowly I felt the scar of my brand heat, and begin to burn. The more I resisted whatever held me in place, the more my scar burned. It had smoothed over almost instantly, but now it was reverting to a fresh burn, with the horrendous pain that accompanied days of healing being reversed in seconds, my skin blistering with fresh agony the longer I fought.

I screamed. There was no other word for it, raw pain stripped decibels from my abused vocal chords, and I dropped to my knees, losing my knife as I fell. The pain stopped. As fast as it had burned my scar was healed again, leaving me shuddering on my knees, gasping for breath.

"Yer shittin me... That hurt like hell..." My hand closed on my knife hilt and I staggered to my feet, just in time to catch the hatchet on my blade. The force slammed the heavy steel out of my hand, turning aside the hatchet, and knocking my arm wide.

"Damnit that's not possible! The brand is supposed to bind you! You can't be free!" His free hand crashed into my face, rocking me back on my heels, but I have nearly seventy pounds on him, and he moved just a hair too slow to follow up. Launching forward from the brutal hit, my shoulder slammed into his chest with a painful crack that radiated all the way down my arm. Something in his chest gave way as well, but my arm was well out of the fight.

A swift knee to the groin was all the chance I had to act once I recovered from my shock. Almost immediately after I hit him, a boot slammed into my gut, knocking the wind out of me. Another one followed it almost immediately, battering my arms, head, sides, and ribs with a flurry of blows I couldn't ward off.

"Leave him, let him burn." The roar of the flames was almost all consuming now as my senses reeled from the brutal assault, and I could feel the blistering heat on my face as the slavers backed away. A series of deep metallic TUUNNGGs announced the firing of crossbows into the melee, and one of the slavers fell into my sight, screaming as he clawed at the hole in his gut where the bolt had punched almost entirely through him, the fletchings were trapped in his body, while the broadhead erupted through his back like a metallic chestburster gone wrong.

I could feel the flames licking at my hands, but my body was going numb as I faded into unconsciousness from my injuries. "Death in a warehouse fire... That's so fucking..." My world went black as the fire claimed me.

"Ironic." I floated free above the port city of Anebrilith. A single ship had just docked, and workers and guards alike scurried about the waterfront as goods and passengers exchanged places. Dozens of people swarmed onto the ship, but only five stepped off, three elves, a dwarf, and a tall man in a black leather jacket...

"Well dip me in shit. This must be onna them outta body experiences." I realized I could hear my own voice, and winced inwardly(or outwardly, I wasn't too certain how that worked outside my body) at the thick accent that had slipped in due to my consternation. I watched myself..us...him...shit...walk down the street, right past the warehouse I was burning to death in as I watched myself walk past it...Jesus my brain hurt.

I saw my body shove people out of the way, and get shoved in return with the thick press of bodies. I remembered what it had been like walking into the city that day, and it was worse than Manhattan at rush hour. No. That was a lie. Manhattan smelled worse.

"Are you sure this is the right way to go?" I knew the voice, but what in Gods good name had I done to deserve this kind of punishment? I looked around slowly, hoping against hope I was wrong.

Nope. Damn.

Tall, blonde, skinny, pretty boy, kinda cute, confused as shit, pointy ears, and...pirate clothes? "My hallucinations suck."

"Don't blame me, I'm the first thing your brain came up with when it heard 'elf' and 'pirate' in the same sentence. I'm just here to deliver a message."

"Ugh... sweet Jesus why me....I don't even fucking believe in this shit, you're not real!" My conviction had been falling apart these last few years, but dear God, my spirit guide thing had to be Legolas Turner, Pirate of the Rings?

"Actually, that's part of why I'm here. Big juju is very upset at this point, you've wasted nearly three years here without getting any closer to why you're in Althanas in the first place." He looked slightly confused, like HE wasn't all that sure why he was here, but I tended to think of him looking like that anyway.

"Ok... So... Big juju wants me to do something here? Why the hell are you calling it big juju?" I noticed that the longer we talked the less detailed my surroundings got, but my brain hurt too much to really pay much attention to anything but what was making it hurt.

"Don't blame me. I'm just a representation. I can't call it anything you haven't conceptualized yet. You dumb hick." That was strange... I had the distinct impression that Orlando was changing into...Bruce Willis maybe? Something that wasn't British anyway.

"Sooooooo..... What you're saying is that I must reasonably already know why I'm in Althanas, and that God... By the way, I'm going to use God for convenience from now on. That God sent you to deliver a message that I already know what it is? What the hell is the message then?"

"You aren't alone. You've already met some others like you, Ethan, free to roam between the world and Althanas at will. He has powers as a result of his crossing between worlds. So do you. You've just been misusing them you bastard." The impression of Bruce Willis was getting alot stronger, the more he talked. Which was getting especially strange since the body and clothes hadn't changed. So now we have John McClane with pointy ears and pirate clothes.

I might have to start drinking... "Ok... Yer shittin me."

I was about to continue when he disappeared. "Ok, that worked better than I..."

"Cut that shit out! That ain't what yer supposed to do with it you dumb kraut!" He reappeared right next to me, old, wrinkled, and nondescript.

"Ok, then what should I do with it?" This was getting a tad bit tiresome.

"That's my message. There's a war going on, all the time. You know it. You watched it on TV all the time. Good and Evil, Light and Dark... Whatever you want to call it, you're qualified, and whether or not you admit it, you already enlisted. You're the good guy, the men you're fighting aren't.

I shuddered, breathed deeply, and coughed as pain wracked my body and air filled my lungs. "I still live..."

The words were an unintelligible croak, and a skin pressed into my hands. I drank deeply, before hacking and sputtering again. "I said, I still live."

"Yes human, you do. For now."