Reckless

Chapter 10 Part 3

1619 A.D

Character POV: Ariadne

I've never been further into the African continent than Egypt. I have spies back in Britain to tell me if anything heats up further with the witches, but I am not going to waste my whole life in one place, preparing for battle and watching the high-ranking witches, watching Aoibhe. I want to see some of the world with this immortal life I've been given.

I've been here for a few months, in West Africa, and now I'm going back to Europe. I'm on the docks, preparing to board a ship back. I'll probably make my way to Greece, to Lesbos, and relax there for a while. I'm about to board my ship when movement down the dock catches my attention. A long line of African people are chained, being marched into a ship bound for Zeus knows where to do Zeus knows what. I don't miss the marks on them, marks made by human cruelty. The one on the end, he's toying with the chain. There's something in his hand, something that he's using to pick at the locks that hold him.

I'm moving before I really can register what I'm doing, heading down the docks towards them, hiding in the shelter of one of the nearby buildings when he finally breaks free. The chains clang on the ground louder than they should, but he's off and running. He won't get far, even as he makes it to the alley where I am. Men race after him, bearded and speaking what I think is Portuguese. He whirls on them, punching one straight in the face as more race towards him.

There's no way that I can stand here and watch more of this happen. I've seen slavery up close, when Rome was in charge. I know that my Greek homeland had slavery as well, but my family was too poor to partake in it. When I saw how Rome treated their slaves growing up and those they conquered, there was no way that I could justify it. I've seen the way gladiators were forced to fight and killed. I've seen the horrors, how my friends from the Iceni even were forced into servitude. Internally, I'm rooting for this man, and getting very hungry. The four men have the African man backed into a corner at the end of the alley. I step out then and clear my throat, drawing their attentions to me. "Gentlemen, I seem to be lost. Could any of you possibly give me directions? Or do any of you even speak English?"

Three of the four men turn towards me, one of them who appears to be in charge by his authoritative manner, steps towards me and says in rough English, "It is not safe for a lady to be out here at this time of night by herself. I suggest you go home to your husband."

"Oh, you are quite right," I muse, a dense fog suddenly filling the alleyway and making the men jump back and curse. I feel my nails elongating, turning into claws. I lunge at them in the cover of the fog, and all that can be heard is screaming. My teeth sink into the neck of the leader, the coppery tang of blood filling my mouth as I drain him dry as soon as I can. The other two who turned try to run past me, but I reach out with lightning fast speed, spearing them through the neck with my claws as they walk past. With one flick of my wrists, they're torn open and slumped on the ground. The last one has pulled the African man in front of him, holding a sword to his neck. I stalk towards him, seeing the blade shaking slightly as the man's fear rises. I allow myself to disappear into the fog, high above the slaver.

High above him, I can see him looking around frantically, and then he shouts into the fog as he shoves the African man forward so hard that he collides with the cobblestones, "Take him. A slave is not worth death. Take his blood and spare me mine!" He takes off at top speed down the alley, and for a brief second I contemplate letting him go to spread fear among his kind, but then I think better of it. In a split second, I'm standing in front of him, and he stops so fast that his knees buckle and he falls onto the ground, weeping in fear.