10.
He looked upon the pier from his position on the tiled roof, which he deemed secure. He stayed low and didn’t peek his head over the edge. There stood the boat he’d been after for the past few days. The Deliverance. A covert, unassuming ship that bore all the markings of an official trade vessel. People walked right by it and silently thought how it was an important part of the intercontinental trading system. They didn’t even bother stopping to wonder what was in those crates. Shackled elves dressed in filthy rags, packed neatly into little wooden boxes, stacked up, and stowed away onboard. They were so malnourished and bare that they could fit inside easily without straining anything. They had little holes to breathe through and plenty of moist wheat strands to snack on.
This is why he fought. This is why he existed. This is why almost everyone who talked about slave drives being busted and corrupt officials being taken down always, always mentioned his name.
Jade Fist.
He scanned the length of the piers running along the seaside. Given it was nighttime, the area was clear, save for the Deliverance making its usual nightly departures. He’d spent nearly a week in Lucerna darting from town to town, trying to keep up with it. It operated on such a random schedule that keeping up with it nearly got Jade Fist caught stowing away on actual trade ships. Twice he felt that he had ended up in the wrong town, but in the end, his search had paid off. This was it. He was going to take down one of the most active and “premier” slaving ships in Lucerna.
Damned if he failed.
None of the other piers were occupied, so Jade Fist was free to act as he desired. He stood upright and calmly took a step off of the edge of the roof. He landed on the cobblestone pavement below with a laudable thud, catching the attention of the dockworkers tending to the Deliverance’s shipment. One of the men turned and called out, “Oi! Who’s that?” Jade Fist began walking towards the workers, stretching out his arms a bit as he got closer. “Hey… hey!” One of the other workers said, “That’s ‘im! That’s the Jade Fist! Get ‘im!”
The first crewman unsheathed his club – no doubt used for beating the slaves into submission – and charged towards Jade Fist. The elf reared his open palm and then launched it forward, impacting the man’s gut, and stunning him. He then kicked him forward with such force that he was sent into a nearby cluster of barrels. Two more men came running while the rest of the crew gathered their weapons and made haste for the pier. Jade Fist swiped away the attacks of the two crewmen, breaking the first one’s jaw and dislocating the second one’s shoulders.
With the rest of the crewmen on their way, numbering over a dozen, Jade Fist decided to employ more resourceful tactics. He eyed the charging assailants while he lowered his hands, holding his palms open. His hands shook and his fingers stiffened as he slowly raised them up, and with them a collection of cobblestones pried from the ground around his feet.
Many elves shared a connection with the forces of the natural world. Most forged bonds with the wildlife of Tellus, devoting their lives to protecting them. Others held control over the very roots and stems of the vast forests. And the rest, like Jade Fist, ruled over the very earth they walked upon.
The elf shot his hands forward, and the cobblestones rocketed towards the oncoming crewmen. They fell backwards onto the pier as the cobblestone hit them in their guts, their faces, damn near everywhere. Plenty of broken bones. After they all blacked out from the impacts, there was only one left reeling on the wooden boards of the pier. He took his time standing up, but when he finally regained his stance, there in front of him stood Jade Fist. He wrapped his arm around the crewman’s neck and pushed him forward, binding him under his arm. The crewman struggled to break free, but the elf simply kept his composure and grip while he waited for the man to lose consciousness. And when he did, he simply let him go.
The crew was disposed of, and now all that was left was to free the elves, steal the ship, sail to Tellus, and get them to the City of Earth safely. Easy enough, for someone with enough experience busting slave operations. Jade Fist made his way up the studded plank onto the ship, keeping his guard up just in case there were any more crewmen waiting to ambush him. He stepped on over to the door to the lower deck and kicked it open. And down into the depths of the Deliverance he went.
…
The storage deck. That’s where they’d be. That’s where they’d always end up being, every time he pulled one of these stunts. As he descended down the stairs, he looked around at the abundance of crates stacked atop and beside each other. It sickened him, the sight of it. He knew that, from a slaver’s perspective, it was just property management. How they could look at a young, dying elf and not feel the slightest bit of remorse… to him, they weren’t human. They were something far worse.
He hadn’t faced any other crewmen on the way inside, so he believed he was free to free the elves and occupy the ship with impunity. He walked over to one of the crates and raised his arm, slamming it against the lock. With sheer force, he busted it open. He grabbed the latch, bracing himself to see the poor soul inside in dire need of food and water, and opened the crate door…
And he reared back in shock.
“What…” He muttered underneath his mask.
A corpse. A black, sludge-covered, desecrated corpse, curled up inside the crate. He couldn’t tell if it was an elf. He couldn’t even tell whether it was a man or a woman. Almost instinctively, he hurried to the next crate over and smashed its lock open as well. Inside was another rotting body. He repeated this several more times until he was convinced that every crate in storage was occupied by a cadaver. He stood silently, abashed, attempting to process the situation. It didn’t make any sense. The crewmen, the slavers… they would have tended to the slaves to, at the very least, keep them alive. Dead elves were of no use. And these bodies looked weeks old, perhaps even older than that… there was no way they would have deliberately refrained from sustaining them. And they certainly wouldn’t have forgotten either, it was their job.
If there were no living elves on this ship, then what did Jade Fist waste all this time for…
Suddenly, he heard it. A sound from the door. The lock had just been fastened. Jade Fist hurried up the stairs and towards the door, attempting to bust it open. He punched the door again and again, but something was keeping it in place.
And then, another sound. But surprisingly, much more alarming then the door being locked.
Groaning. Slowed, garbled… demonic, groaning.
Jade Fist turned his head towards the crates. One of the several locked hatches he’d opened was being pushed by a decrepit, spindly hand. The whole arm came through… and the body, the dark, fleshy corpse crawled out of the box. The one in the box next to it did the same. And one by one, so did the rest. Jade Fist attempted to punch the door open several more times, but it was no use. He quickly hopped down the stairs and raised his fists as the undead creatures rose up and inched towards him. He grit his teeth and charged the crowd, breaking one of their heads open with a swift punch. But the sludge… the sludge was thick, and it took hold of his hand. He quickly pried it out of the creature’s skull, but even with its head caved in, it kept moving. It was a dead husk. Something or someone was controlling it, all of them, directly.
The elf punched and kicked several more of them, but it was pointless. They all raised their arms and wrapped themselves around their victim, covering him in the putrid black sludge, shrieking madly.
Jade Fist struggled as much as he could, but it was no use.
Don’t be afraid.
A woman’s voice amidst the terror. Calm, but… guttural. Unsettling.
They’re not going to kill you. You’re far too important.
His senses faded as he slipped into the darkness.
Rest. We will speak when you wake up.
And then all was dark. And silent.