“What’s the story with that one–the girl?”
The slave master on deck nineteen of the airship pursed thin lips as he stared at her. His eyes squinted against the harsh rays of the midday sun. The slave master’s mind added up the mental ingredients needed to concoct a story that would bring him top dollar for his newly captured slave. “Ahhhh…the fiercest female pirate of the sea,” he spat more than spoke, each syllable flying from his lips. “We bartered for this one from a galleon. Said they ran into an entire ship of them, they did. They fought tooth and bone until the last one. Only caught her because she was rendered unconscious.”
Val held her tongue as the seller and purchaser’s eyes moved across her body. From beneath a curtain of filthy black strands, she met their stares head on. More than anything, she wanted to skip free from her bonds. She wanted to cross the distance that separated her from them and tear both their throats from their stupid necks. Skill was not holding her back. It was the promise of something far greater than bloodlust that kept her in check. It was the promise of answers to questions she’d been seeking since birth. If she was going to have a chance at all, she needed to be bought.
The man inquiring about her made his way down the row of slaves. Every slave secured with interlinked chains to both their hands and feet made him bold in his proximity. He stunk of rum and tobacco as he stood in front of her, weighing her worth. “I’ll give you ten bits, no more.”
So it began. The slave master hobbled to his customer and product. Even before he opened his mouth, Val knew this was just the beginning of a long discussion. Bartering among pirates was an art; even what some would call a pastime.
“Rob me right to me face, would ye?” the slaver snapped, outraged. “She’s in top shape, this one. Look at ‘er arms. Bigger than even mine or yours. Ye’d get years worth of work out of ‘er.”
The Captain eyed her again. Finally, he asked her, “The story this rusty slaver would have me believe about you, is it true?”
Behind the Captain, the slaver nodded with vigorous motions of his oversized head. Val had to position this just right. The two men were so eager to have the upper hand in the deal; they’d been blind as to who was actually manipulating the scene.
“No,” Val said with a steady voice. “He found me drunk in an alley and kidnapped me.” She paused as the slaver’s face reddened and he closed the distance. A strike was inevitable, maybe even more than one. “But he’s right to think I’m a warrior. Even with these chains I could break his nose if I chose.”
The slaver arrived a second later. A right-fisted punch to her cheek and another to her stomach doubled her over. For an old pig of a man, he was stronger than he looked. Slaves still chained to her left and right leaned as far away as the chains would allow. As if creating more distance between them would promise safe passage in the storm of their owner’s wrath.
Val thought at two shots the slaver would be content. After four Val began to wonder how long she could keep the charade in place. Finally, the blows stopped.
The slaver was huffing and puffing like a massive beached whale. The seconds of exertion had proven far too much for his heavy frame. Now, not only black strands of her hair, but also dark red rivers of blood were clouding Val’s vision.
It was evident the slaver’s act of violence hadn’t gone unnoticed. A throng of people looked on in anticipation of a beating. The island of Taurus was a brutal place. Any sign of violence or chance there would be a brawl was welcomed.
Val could see the sick pleasure in their eyes fade as they realized the beating was short-lived. Their hopes of seeing pain at someone else’s expense gone, they mumbled and cursed.
The pain was present, but still nothing compared to what Val had previously endured. She did what was needed, bottled the feeling, caged her rage for a moment when it would be useful and stood tall.
“Well, she can take a beating,” the Captain interested in purchasing her said. “I do need some sturdy hands to man the oars on The Apollo. I probably shouldn’t, but I’ll give you fifteen. That’s it.”
The slaver, still recovering with a deep, wheezing sigh, stood between the Captain and Val to plead his case. “So you do see her value? I know you do or else you would not have increased yer payment. Perhaps you will also see why she’s worth twenty bits if I…”
The Captain shook his head. “No, I’m done bartering with you. Take my offer or leave it. I have other business to attend before the sun sets on Taurus.”
Val held her breath. So far it was all going according to plan. Only the greed of the slaver stood between her and her goal.
The slaver thought for a moment and then shook his head. He would not accept the offer.
Val’s mind raced to find a solution. She needed to be purchased by the Captain or else all the work leading up to this point meant nothing.
“Hey, you sorry sack of meat.”
The slaver turned to Val, a look of one part shock, one part surprise and one part rage spreading on his face.
“Yeah, I’m talking to you. If you ever try to hit me again I’ll make you wish you’d never been born. You will live to see the day you…”
That did it. The slaver stepped toward her, a fist already aimed at her face. The man was slow, clumsy, and awkward; the list went on and on. It was nothing for Val to shift ever so slightly to her right. Dodging the blow as if it had written her a letter a week ago to warn her about its arrival and location.
With the slaver off balance, Val took her chance. Both wrists were cuffed together with a rough piece of worn metal and attached to a longer chain connecting her to the other poor souls also in the slaver’s custody. Despite this, there were a few inches of give in her bonds.
With one quick motion, she brought both her hands up and into the saggy chin of the slaver. Her knuckles passed through a wave of fat and skin before making contact with the underside of his chin.
His head snapped back in one fluid motion, giving Val an open shot at his nose. Her forehead met the hooked bridge of his nose. With a loud crack, cartilage broke and blood poured from his nostrils like a dam bursting.
The slaver fell backward to the laughter of the Captain and those who had stayed to watch. Expressions of pain and humiliation fought for space on the slaver’s bloody face. Instead, a look of rage passed over his face as if he were going to stand and strike Val again. One look from her cold eyes told him this would not be the best idea.
Composing himself as much as he could, with one hand on his bleeding nose, he stood. Ignoring Val as though she had not just made him fear for his life, he addressed the Captain. “Fifteen bits it is.”
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