₦airaland Forum

98

his sister and na because of you i no follow dem go abuja and na because of you i dey live here now and everytin u go tell me

because say my papa be soldier dem for never release me and na because of you my papa send me come village to dey live with

u don 4get say na u rape d girl and na me dey come arrest for house and despite d beating i no mention ur name and if no

to ekiti.
Me: oboy you try o
oba: 'i try?' you dey craze, so after everything wey happen na i try you dey tell me, or

We got to his room and we started gisting and he explained how he escaped from the scene of the incident and how he got

HawkToBar:
@SamuelTurner Nice story there. Hope you don't mind me copying your story?

free world bro

Nifeola:
Wehdone sIR! Oya continue

Thanks

Akinwale14:
Nice story,continue

Thanks bro

waleyp:
UP SCHOOL UP GCI, I REP SWANSTON, WHICH HOUSE YOU REP? WHO NO KNOW GCI FOR IB BACK THEN HUH?

I don forget my own house because e don Tay....

Up school up gci

mhizgap:
Bros no fall hand o come and finish what you started

I promise not to fall your hand miss

We got to her mammi's house and the house was a two storey building with the inscription "coppers Lodge"...

We shaa went inside and we were welcomed by grandma. We were served with pounded yam with egusi soup and bush meat. After we finished eating the food, my mum and her mother started discussing so I had to excuse them because I hate long boring talks. I went outside the house to observe the street maybe I go see any babe wey go pass.

The street is lively with so many young people mostly students and from my observation I think there is a university not far from the area that's why there are so many people in the area.

As I was roaming around the street, I saw one guy that looks familiar "how will I not remember my blooda, my partner in crime and my mentor.. Oba Blessing"
"Oba " I shouted, he looks toward my direction but he could not remember my face.

Me: Oba, you no remember your guy

Oba: Abeg I no remember this face ooo

Me: for gci, school 2, community jungle

Oba: watin be your name

Me: na small nah (that's my nick for school)

Oba: na time go tell

Me: "na time go tell" is the cliche I always use in school and even at my street

Oba: but you fall my hand ooo

Me: watin I do nah

Oba: after that matter for jss2 you no even call me again

Me: I dey try your number but e no dey reachable and I dey even go your house self but I no dey meet person for there, I even dey go queens school self maybe I go see your sister but her friends dey tell me say she no come school again since that incidence

Oba: na my pman (dad) talk say make we dey go him village jere and since then I don dey live here with my family

Me: so your pman na from this town and you no tell me

Oba: shey you ask me before abi... Watin you con do for here

Me: na my mum con visit her mama for here and I just dey stroll out before I saw you

Oba: your mama dey this street?.. You no tell me say na Ekiti be your mama nah

Me: you self no ask me jere... Wie you dey go before

Oba: I wan go buy cd (condom)

Me: you never change

Oba: e dey body ooo

Me: OK, na time go tell

I followed him to where he bought the condom and he took me to his house

Akinwale14:
Oga mi thanks for d mention,nice story,we dey ur back like backyard and we dey ur front like frontyard,keep it up.

Thanks bro

Episode 1

I will miss u guys, I will finally be moving to US next week. Thank u so much for being there for me.
Going there to further my education & have a peaceful life. I will be taking off to US on Tuesday18th of may 2017. This will be my new number +1 (203) 540-8817. keep doing great things and forgive me for the short notice but I promise to be in touch with u all.
I will be available on WhatsApp, IMO and Instagram I will miss u all.

...

That was the dream I was enjoying before I was woken up with a heavy slap on my head. "wake up joor, olorun iya" that was my sister. If I had a gun, I would have gunned her down.
Me: Abeg lemme sleep nah, or watin self

Tosin: mumu boy, stand up joor.... It's already past 12

Me: watin be my own with past 12?

Tosin: (sounding excited) mum said we are visiting grandma today

Me: so make I no sleep because of grandma Abi?

Tosin: go follow mummy Talk am...

"Tosin ooooo" mum called her and she left instantly. I hurriedly took my bath and I wear my best cloth maybe babe fit fall for my dressing. I joined them outside the house because they were already leaving and I didn't even asked for food so as to avoids stories that touch.

Guys your comment is highly needed.....

Thanks....

WELCOME TO EKITI STATE (the land of honor)


We arrived at Ekiti State safely, tho the driver was driving like the person wey don smoke kush and excess TM (Tramadol).

He was a rough driver just like Vin diesel and I just dey pray make we no end like Paul Walker...

We alighted from the bus and we unpacked our luggages. I asked my mom where we were because I haven't been to Ekiti before, she said we were in Ado Ekiti, the capital of Ekiti state and she told me we still have a long way to go...


We sha eventually got home. I asked my mum who owns the house and she told me she owns it. "but mum......" I wanted to ask her some questions but my elder sister named Tosin just interrupted me.

Tosin: "your house or you and dad house?"

Mum: my own house, I built this house with my salary because......

Me: see lets go inside first (I had to interrupt her because if she should start the history of how she built the house, that means we are on a long thing and am not ready for that because am dammed tired)

Tosin: Tobi, why'd you like behaving like a fool, can't you see that she is still talking.. (my sister and I are just like Tom and Jerry. We fight almost every day)

Mum: (facing Tosin) "I have told you so many times to stop using negative words against your brother because you are a Christian"

Me: (mum have started with her preaching again. And I have to stop her because she is still going to back her preaching with a Bible verse..... Nigerian mum sha)

Me: see am hungry oooo

Mum: let's go inside..

************

We entered the house and she showed us our rooms.

There are four rooms in the house alongside with the parlor, two toilets and two bathrooms. A kitchen and a storeroom.

She showed us the rooms. I choose the one that has more privacy because I know am gonna perform so many signs and wonders.. Lol.

Apart from Tosin, I have another sisters which I can use seniority over "Bose and Odunayo"


We shaa used all the remaining day arranging the house..


THE BEGINNING OF A NEW LIFE IN A DIFFERENT STATE

Lemme brief you about my self...


my name is Ogunsakin Oluwatobiloba Samuel,
I am from Ekiti state but I spent most of my
life in Ibadan.

I am the first son and the second child of my parents.

my mom is a nurse and she's also a choir (chronic one).

I schooled at Ibadan (both primary and half of
my secondary).

I went to Faith Nur&Pry School (the only private school I attended ) before I wrote my common entrance.

I was admitted to the most dread secondary school in Ibadan G. C. I (Government College of Ibadan... Up School) before we (I, my pregnant mum and my 3 sisters ) were migrated or Lemme say relocated to Ekiti state due to some crisis between my dad and my mum where I started my
rugged life
.
.
.
.
.
.
Most of the following story will be in past tense...
.
.
.
Tbc

HawkToBar:
Always pick up your calls bro.

#iRepAdo

I hail oooo....

Bro Hw far

waleyp:
AND WHERE IS THE WORK

Posted

This story was posted by me in my second account but I was blocked due to some reasons. So I'm starting it now...
Lleigh, chipappi, larrysun, d9t7y, akinwale14, biafrabushboy and others......

Na your hand I dey oooo

[b 7/09/2016 ]


Alaye don't trust me, Alaye trust yourself
If you don't like me Alaye Bleep yourself
Efimile ekoju sibi tenlo se
Na only me wake come ogbeni warn yourself
......... Na one of olamide song I dey follow sing for my headset connected to my phone before it suddenly stopped, I thought my battery don rundown because the battery no good at all (I only enjoyed it when am charging the phone)
..... If I tell you say I love you ooo
my money my body na your own oooo baby
30 billion for the account oooo.....
It was my ringing tone that brought me back to reality, my phone didn't die... na the call paused the song.
I checked the caller ID and it was my payer..... payer (yes I be yahoo boy, a learner tho).. I answered
.
.
Me: bro, morning ooo
Payer: hw far thobby
Me: watin dey shele
Payer: I dey rugged
Me: shey the Maga don pay ni
Payer: no ooo, na another matter I wan yarn you oo
Me: (I hope say no be the alora stuff you wan follow me yarn) watin happen
Payer: nothing, I wan show you something for
my side today
Me: which time
Payer: 7:30
Me: morning or night (I was asking a foolish question or I rather say stupid question be it's already 12:30 pm )
Payer: night nah
Me: you no say my p man (dad ) no go allow me commot for house and I no fit miss that film wey dem dey show for zee world
Payer: you better try to come because w get one level wey wan happen
Me: OK, I go come
He ended the call...
.
.
...
If I had known, I would have stayed at home
If I had known, I would have watched the TWIST OF FATE
If I had known, I would not have lied to my dad
Maybe I would not have ended my day in the white house (cell)
.....
.
.
.
.
The beginning of my rugged life

Note:
PLEASE, IF IN ANY WAY YOU WANT TO COPY THIS WORK OR ANY PART OF IT, KINDLY CONTACT THE WRITER.


My Contact 09071866677

Email.. Samuelthobbylobar@gmail.com

Thanks for reading

She hated Innish. Hated the reek of trash and filth, hated the heavy blanket of mist that shrouded it day and night, hated the second-rate merchants and mercenaries and generally miserable people who occupied it.
No one here knew who she was, or why she’d come; no one knew that the girl beneath the hood was Celaena Sardothien, the most notorious assassin in Adarlan’s empire. But then again, she didn’t want them to know. Couldn’t let them know, actually. And didn’t want them knowing that she was just over a week away from turning seventeen, either.
She’d been here for two days now—two days spent either holed up in her despicable room (a “suite,” the oily innkeeper had the nerve to call it), or down here in the taproom that stank of sweat, stale ale, and unwashed bodies.
She would have left if she’d had any choice. But she was forced to be here, thanks to her master, Arobynn Hamel, King of the Assassins. She’d always been proud of her status as his chosen heir—always flaunted it. But now … This journey was her punishment for destroying his atrocious slave-trade agreement with the Pirate Lord of Skull’s Bay. So unless she wanted to risk the trek through the Bogdano Jungle—the feral bit of land that bridged the continent to the Deserted Land—sailing across the Gulf of Oro was the only way. Which meant waiting here, in this dump of a tavern, for a ship to take her to Yurpa.
Celaena sighed and took a long drink of her ale. She almost spat it out. Disgusting. Cheap as cheap could be, like the rest of this place. Like the stew she hadn’t touched. Whatever meat was in there wasn’t from any creature worth eating. Bread and mild cheese it was, then.
Celaena sat back in her seat, watching the barmaid with the brown-gold hair slip through the labyrinth of tables and chairs. The girl nimbly dodged the men who groped her, all without disturbing the tray she carried over her shoulder. What a waste of swift feet, good balance, and intelligent, stunning eyes. The girl wasn’t dumb. Celaena had noted the way she watched the room and its patrons—the way she watched Celaena herself. What personal hell had driven her to work here?
Celaena didn’t particularly care. The questions were mostly to drive the boredom away. She’d already devoured the three books she’d carried with her from Rifthold, and not one of the shops in Innish had a single book for sale—only spices, fish, out-of-fashion clothing, and nautical gear. For a port town, it was pathetic. But the Kingdom of Melisande had fallen on hard times in the past eight and a half years—since the King of Adarlan had conquered the continent and redirected trade through Eyllwe instead of Melisande’s few eastern ports.
The whole world had fallen on hard times, it seemed. Celaena included.
She fought the urge to touch her face. The swelling from the beating Arobynn had given her had gone down, but the bruises remained. She avoided looking in the sliver of mirror above her dresser, knowing what she’d see: mottled purple and blue and yellow along her cheekbones, a vicious black eye, and a still-healing split lip.
It was all a reminder of what Arobynn had done the day she returned from Skull’s Bay—proof of how she’d betrayed him by saving two hundred slaves from a terrible fate. She had made a powerful enemy of the Pirate Lord, and she was fairly certain she’d ruined her relationship with Arobynn, but she had been right. It was worth it; it would always be worth it, she told herself.
Even if she was sometimes so angry that she couldn’t think straight. Even if she’d gotten into not one, not two, but three bar fights in the two weeks that she’d been traveling from Rifthold to the Red Desert. One of the brawls, at least, had been rightfully provoked: a man had cheated at a round of cards. But the other two …
There was no denying it: she’d merely been spoiling for a fight. No blades, no weapons. Just fists and feet. Celaena supposed she should feel bad about it—about the broken noses and jaws, about the heaps of unconscious bodies in her wake. But she didn’t.
She couldn’t bring herself to care, because those moments she spent brawling were the few moments she felt like herself again. When she felt like Adarlan’s greatest assassin, Arobynn Hamel’s chosen heir.
Even if her opponents were drunks and untrained fighters; even if she should know better.
The barmaid reached the safety of the counter, and Celaena glanced about the room. The innkeeper was still watching her, as he had for the past two days, wondering how he could squeeze even more money out of her purse. There were several other men observing her, too. Some she recognized from previous nights, while others were new faces that she quickly sized up. Was it fear or luck that had kept them away from her so far?
She’d made no secret of the fact that she carried money with her. And her clothes and weapons spoke volumes about her wealth, too. The ruby brooch she wore practically begged for trouble—she wore it to invite trouble, actually. It was a gift from Arobynn on her sixteenth birthday; she hoped someone would try to steal it. If they were good enough, she might just let them. So it was only a matter of time, really, before one of them tried to rob her.
And before she decided she was bored of fighting only with fists and feet. She glanced at the sword by her side; it glinted in the tavern’s dank light.
But she would be leaving at dawn—to sail to the Deserted Land, where she’d make the journey to the Red Desert to meet the Mute Master of Assassins, with whom she was to train for a month as further punishment for her betrayal of Arobynn. If she were being honest with herself, though, she’d started entertaining the thought of not going to the Red Desert.
It was tempting. She could take a ship somewhere else—to the southern continent, perhaps—and start a new life. She could leave behind Arobynn, the Assassins’ Guild, the city of Rifthold, and Adarlan’s damned empire. There was little stopping her, save for the feeling that Arobynn would hunt her down no matter how far she went. And the fact that Sam … well, she didn’t know what had happened to her fellow assassin that night the world had gone to hell. But the lure of the unknown remained, the wild rage that begged her to cast off the last of Arobynn’s shackles and sail to a place where she could establish her own Assassins’ Guild. It would be so, so easy.
But even if she decided not to take the ship to Yurpa tomorrow and instead took one bound for the southern continent, she was still left with another night in this awful inn. Another sleepless night where she could only hear the roar of anger in her blood as it thrashed inside her.
If she were smart, if she were levelheaded, she would avoid any confrontation tonight and leave Innish in peace, no matter where she went.
But she wasn’t feeling particularly smart, or levelheaded—certainly not once the hours passed and the air in the inn shifted into a hungry, wild thing that howled for blood.

THE
ASSASSIN
AND THE
HEALER
CHAPTER
1
The strange young woman had been staying at the White Pig Inn for two days now and had hardly spoken to anyone save for Nolan, who had taken one look at her fine night-dark clothes and bent over backward to accommodate her.
He gave her the best room at the Pig—the room he only offered to patrons he intended to bleed dry—and didn’t seem at all bothered by the heavy hood the young woman wore or the assortment of weapons that gleamed along her long, lean body. Not when she tossed him a gold coin with a casual flick of her gloved fingers. Not when she was wearing an ornate gold brooch with a ruby the size of a robin’s egg.
Then again, Nolan was never really afraid of anyone, unless they seemed likely not to pay him—and even then, it was anger and greed, not fear, that won out.
Yrene Towers had been watching the young woman from the safety of the taproom bar. Watching, if only because the stranger was young and unaccompanied and sat at the back table with such stillness that it was impossible not to look. Not to wonder.
Yrene hadn’t seen her face yet, though she’d caught a glimpse every now and then of a golden braid glinting from the depths of her black hood. In any other city, the White Pig Inn would likely be considered the lowest of the low as far as luxury and cleanliness were concerned. But here in Innish, a port town so small it wasn’t on most maps, it was considered the finest.
Yrene glanced at the mug she was currently cleaning and tried not to wince. She did her best to keep the bar and taproom clean, to serve the Pig’s patrons—most of them sailors or merchants or mercenaries who often thought she was up for purchase as well—with a smile. But Nolan still watered down the wine, still washed the sheets only when there was no denying the presence of lice and fleas, and sometimes used whatever meat could be found in the back alley for their daily stew.
Yrene had been working here for a year now—eleven months longer than she had intended—and the White Pig still sickened her. Considering that she could stomach almost anything (a fact that allowed both Nolan and Jessa to demand she clean up the most disgusting messes of their patrons), that was really saying something.
The stranger at the back table lifted her head, signaling with a gloved finger for Yrene to bring another ale. For someone who didn’t seem older than twenty, the young woman drank an ungodly amount—wine, ale, whatever Nolan bade Yrene bring over—but never seemed to lose herself to it. It was impossible to tell with that heavy hood, though. These past two nights she’d merely stalked back to her room with a feline grace, not stumbling over herself like most of the patrons on their way out after last call.
Yrene quickly poured ale into the mug she’d just been drying and set it on a tray. She added a glass of water and some more bread, since the girl hadn’t touched the stew she’d been given for dinner. Not a single bite. Smart woman.
Yrene wove through the packed taproom, dodging the hands that tried to grab her. Halfway through her trek, she caught Nolan’s eye from where he sat by the front door. An encouraging nod, his mostly bald head gleaming in the dim light. Keep her drinking. Keep her buying.
Yrene avoided rolling her eyes, if only because Nolan was the sole reason she wasn’t walking the cobblestone streets with the other young women of Innish. A year ago, the stout man had let her convince him that he needed more help in the tavern below the inn. Of course, he’d only accepted when he realized he’d be receiving the better end of the bargain.
But she’d been eighteen and desperate, and had gladly taken a job that offered only a few coppers and a miserable little bed in a broom closet beneath the stairs. Most of her money came from tips, but Nolan claimed half of them. And then Jessa, the other barmaid, usually claimed two-thirds of what remained, because, as Jessa often said, she was the pretty face that gets the men to part with their money, anyway.
One glance into a corner revealed that pretty face and its attendant body perched on the lap of a bearded sailor, giggling and tossing her thick brown curls. Yrene sighed through her nose but didn’t complain, because Jessa was Nolan’s favorite, and Yrene had nowhere—absolutely nowhere—left to go. Innish was her home now, and the White Pig was her haven. Outside of it, the world was too big, too full of splintered dreams and armies that had crushed and burned everything Yrene held dear.
Yrene at last reached the stranger’s table and found the young woman looking up at her. “I brought you some water and bread, too,” Yrene stammered by way of greeting. She set down the ale, but hesitated with the other two items on her tray.
The young woman just said, “Thank you.” Her voice was low and cool—cultured. Educated. And completely uninterested in Yrene.
Not that there was anything about her that was remotely interesting, with her homespun wool dress doing little for her too-slim figure. Like most who hailed from southern Fenharrow, Yrene had golden-tan skin and absolutely ordinary brown hair and was of average height. Only her eyes, a bright gold-brown, gave her any source of pride. Not that most people saw them. Yrene did her best to keep her eyes down most of the time, avoiding any invitation for communication or the wrong kind of attention.
So, Yrene set down the bread and water and took the empty mug from where the girl had pushed it to the center of the table. But curiosity won out, and she peered into the black depths beneath the young woman’s cowl. Nothing but shadows, a gleam of gold hair, and a hint of pale skin. She had so many questions—so, so many questions. Who are you? Where do you come from? Where are you going? Can you use all those blades you carry?
Nolan was watching the entire encounter, so Yrene curtsied and walked back to the bar through the field of groping hands, eyes downcast as she plastered a distant smile on her face.
Celaena Sardothien sat at her table in the absolutely worthless inn, wondering how her life had gone to hell so quickly.

She hurled herself against it, her feet sliding against the ground as she pushed and pushed and pushed. The stone didn't move.
Grunting, gasping, she shoved harder. Still the stone was too large.
Cursing, she beat a fist against the gray surface, her injured hand aching in protest. The pain snapped something open, and she struck the stone again and again, clenching her jaw to keep the building scream inside of her.
“For some reason, I don’t think that’s going to make the rock move,” said a voice, and Celaena whirled.
Emerging from the other side of the landing was Sam. He was covered head to toe in gray dust, and blood leaked from a cut in his forehead, but he was …
She lifted her chin. “I’ve been shouting for you.”
Sam shrugged, sauntering over to her. “I figured you could wait a few minutes, given that I saved the day and all.” His brows rose high on his ash-covered face.
“Some hero.” She gestured to the ruin of the tower around them. “I’ve never seen such sloppy work.”
Sam smiled, his brown eyes turning golden in the dawn. It was such a Sam look, the twinkle of mischief, the hint of exasperation, the kindness that would always, always make him a better person than she was.
Before she knew what she was doing, Celaena threw her arms around him and held him close.
Sam stiffened, but after a heartbeat, his arms came around her. She breathed him in—the smell of his sweat, the tang of the dust and rock, the metallic odor of his blood … Sam rested his cheek on her head. She couldn’t remember—honestly couldn’t recall—the last time anyone had held her. No, wait—it had been a year ago. With Ben, after she’d come back from a mission two hours late and with a sprained ankle. He’d been worried, and given how close she’d come to being captured by the royal guards, she was more than a bit shaken.
But embracing Sam was different, somehow. Like she wanted to curl into his warmth, like for one moment, she didn’t have to worry about anything or anybody.
“Sam,” she murmured into his chest.
“Hmm?”
She peeled away from him, stepping out of his arms. “If you ever tell anyone about me embracing you … I’ll gut you.”
Sam gaped at her, then tipped his head back and laughed. He laughed and laughed, until dust lodged in his throat and he launched into a coughing fit. She let him suffer through it, not finding it very funny at all.
When he could breathe again, Sam cleared his throat. “Come on, Sardothien,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “If you’re done liberating slaves and destroying pirate cities, then let’s go home.”
Celaena glanced at him sidelong and grinned.

CHAPTER
10
“You make a move, and I’ll spill your throat on the ground,” Rolfe hissed, his free hand ripping Celaena’s dagger from its sheath and tossing it into the brush. Then he took her sword, too.
“Why not just kill me right now?”
Rolfe’s breathy laugh tickled her ear. “Because I want to take a long, long while to enjoy killing you.”
She stared at the half-ruined tower, at the dust still swirling from the catapult’s destruction. How could Sam have survived that?
“Do you know how much your attempt at playing hero cost me?” Rolfe pushed his blade into her neck, and her skin split open with a stinging burst. “Two hundred slaves, plus two ships, plus the seven ships you disabled in the harbor, plus countless lives.”
She snorted. “Don’t forget the ale from last night.”
Rolfe shifted his blade, digging in and making Celaena wince despite herself. “I’ll take that from your flesh, too, don’t worry.”
“How’d you find me?” She needed time. Needed something to work with. If she moved the wrong way, she’d find herself with a cut throat.
“I knew you’d follow Sam. If you were so set on freeing the slaves, then you certainly wouldn’t leave your companion to die alone. Though I think you arrived a bit too late for that.”
In the dense jungle, the cries of birds and beasts slowly returned. But the watchtower remained silent, interrupted only by the hiss of crumbling stone.
“You’re going to return with me,” Rolfe said. “And after I’m done with you, I’ll contact your master to come pick up the pieces.”
Rolfe took a step, pivoting them toward the town, but Celaena had been waiting.
Throwing her back into his chest, she hooked her foot behind his. Rolfe stumbled, tripping over her leg, and she wedged her hand between her neck and his dagger just as he remembered to act on his promise to slit her throat.
Blood from her palm splattered down her tunic, but she shoved the pain aside and butted her elbow into his stomach. Rolfe’s breath whooshed out of him, and he doubled over, only to meet her knee slamming into his face. A faint crack sounded as her kneecap connected with his nose. When she hurled Rolfe to the dirt, blood was on her pant leg—his blood.
She grabbed his fallen dagger as the Pirate Lord reached for his sword. He scrambled to his knees, lunging for her, but she stomped her foot down upon his sword, sending it crashing to the ground. Rolfe raised his head just in time for her to knock him onto his back. Crouching over him, she held his dagger to his neck.
“Well, that didn’t go the way you expected, did it?” she asked, listening for a moment to ensure no pirates were about to come crashing down the road. But the animals still hooted and screeched, the insects still hummed. They were alone. Most of the pirates were probably brawling in the town.
Her hand throbbed, blood pouring out as she grasped the collar of his tunic to lift his head closer to hers.
“So,” she said, her smirk widening at the blood dripping from his nose. “This is what’s going to happen.” She dropped his collar and fished out the two papers from inside her tunic. Compared to the pain in her hand, the injury on her arm had faded to a dull pulsing. “You are going to sign these and stamp each with your seal.”
“I refuse,” Rolfe seethed.
“You don’t even know what they say.” She pushed the tip of the dagger into his heaving throat. “So allow me to clarify: one of these is a letter to my master. It says that the deal is over, that you won’t be sending him slaves, and if you catch him entering into another slave-trade agreement with anyone else, you’ll bring your whole armada to punish him.”
Rolfe choked. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But I’m not done yet.” She picked up the second letter. “This one … I wrote this one for you. I did my best to try to write it in your voice, but you’ll forgive me if it’s a tad more elegant than you’re used to being.” Rolfe struggled, but she pushed the blade a little harder, and he stopped. “Basically,” she said, sighing dramatically, “this one says that you, Captain Rolfe, bearer of the magical map inked on your hands, will never, ever sell a slave again. And if you catch any pirates selling or transporting or trading slaves, you’ll hang, burn, or drown them yourself. And that Skull’s Bay is forevermore a safe haven for any slaves fleeing Adarlan’s clutches.”
Rolfe practically had steam blowing out his ears. “I won’t sign either of them, you stupid girl. Don’t you know who I am?”
̴Fine,” she said, angling the blade to sink into his flesh more easily. “I memorized your signature when I was in your office that first day. It won’t be hard to forge. And as for your seal ring …” She removed something else from her pocket. “I also took that the first day in your office, just in case I needed it. Turns out I was right.” Rolfe croaked as she held it up in her free hand, the garnet flashing in the light. “I figure I can return to town and tell your cronies that you decided to set sail after those slaves, and to expect you back in … I don’t know—six months? A year? Long enough that they won’t notice the grave I’ll dig for you right off the road here. Frankly, you’ve seen who I am, and I should end your life for it. But consider it a favor—and a promise that if you don’t follow my orders, I’ll change my decision to spare you.”
Rolfe’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Why?”
“You’ll have to clarify that.”
He took a breath. “Why go to so much trouble for slaves?”
“Because if we don’t fight for them, who will?” She pulled a fountain pen from her pocket. “Sign the papers.”
Rolfe raised an eyebrow. “And how will you know that I’m holding true to my word?”
She removed the dagger from his throat, using the blade to brush back a strand of his dark hair. “I have my sources. And if I hear that you’re trading slaves, no matter where you go, no matter how far you run, I will hunt you down. That’s twice now I’ve disabled you. The third time, you won’t be so lucky. I swear that on my name. I’m almost seventeen, and I can already wallop you; imagine how good I’ll be in a few years.” She shook her head. “I don’t think you’ll want to try me now—and certainly not then.”
Rolfe stared at her for a few heartbeats. “If you ever set foot in my territory again, your life is forfeit.” He paused, then muttered, “May the gods help Arobynn.” He took the pen. “Any other requests?”
She eased off him, but kept the dagger in her hand. “Why, yes,” she said. “A ship would be nice.”
Rolfe only glared at her before he grabbed the documents.
When Rolfe had signed, stamped, and handed the documents to Celaena, she took the liberty of knocking him out again. Swift blows to two points in his neck did the trick, and he’d be out long enough for her to accomplish what she needed: to find Sam.
She raced up the half-crumbling stairs of the tower, leaping over pirate corpses and chunks of stone, not stopping until she found the crushed bodies of the dozen pirates who were closest to Sam and the ruins of the catapults. Blood, bone, squished bits of flesh that she didn’t particularly care to look at for too long …
“Sam!” she shouted, slipping over a bit of debris. She heaved a slab of wood off the side, scanning the landing for any sign of him. “Sam!”
Her hand began bleeding again, leaving smears of blood as she turned over stone and wood and metal. Where was he?
It had been her plan. If one of them had to die for it, it should have been her. Not him.
She reached the second catapult, its entire frame snapped in half from a fallen piece of tower. She’d last seen him here. A slab of stone jutted up from where it had hit the landing. It was large enough to have squashed someone beneath.

The slaves still rowed for the chain as if demons from every Hellrealm were upon them.
Celaena charged down the road, heading for the edge of the town. With the sloping, wide-open road, she could see Sam racing far ahead—and a large group of pirates not too far behind him. The cut on her arm throbbed, but she pushed herself to run faster.
Sam had mere minutes to get that chain down, or else the slaves’ ships would shatter upon it. Even if the slaves’ ships were able to stop before they hit it, there were enough smaller boats heading out that the pirates would overpower them. The pirates had weapons. Aside from whatever was onboard the ships, the slaves were unarmed, even if many of them had been warriors and rebels.
There was a flash of movement from the half-crumbling tower. Steel glimmered, and there was Sam, charging up the staircase that wound up the outside of the tower.
Two pirates rushed down the steps, swords raised. Sam dodged one, knocking him down with a swift strike to the spine. Before the pirate had even finished falling, Sam’s blade skewered the other man clean through the middle.
But there was still Ship-Breaker to disable, along with the two catapults, and—
And the dozen pirates who had now reached the foot of the tower.
Celaena cursed. She was still too far. There was no way she could make it in time to disable the chain—the ships would crash into it long before she got there.
She swallowed the pain in her arm, focusing on her breathing as she ran and ran, not daring to take her eyes off the tower ahead. Sam, still a tiny figure in the distance, reached the top of the tower and the expanse of open stone where the anchor to the chain lay. Even from here, she could tell it was gargantuan. And as Sam rushed around it, hacking at whatever he could, throwing himself against the enormous lever, both of them realized the horrible truth, the one thing she’d overlooked: the chain was too heavy for one man to move.
The slaves’ ships were close now. So close that stopping … stopping was impossible.
They were going to die.
But the slaves didn’t cease rowing.
The dozen pirates were climbing the stairs. Sam had been trained to engage multiple men in combat, but a dozen pirates … Damn Rolfe and his men for delaying her!
Sam glanced toward the stairs. He knew about the pirates, too.
She could see everything with such maddening clarity. Sam remained atop the tower. A level below him, perched on a platform jutting out over the sea, sat the two catapults. And in the bay, the two ships that rowed with increasing speed. Freedom or death.
Sam slung himself down to the catapult level, and Celaena staggered a step as he hurled himself against the rotating platform on which the catapult sat, pushing, pushing, pushing until the catapult began to move—not toward the sea, but toward the tower itself, toward the spot in the stone wall where the chain was anchored.
She didn’t dare take her attention from the tower as Sam heaved the catapult into position. A boulder had already been loaded, and in the glare of the rising sun, she could just make out the rope stretched taut to secure the catapult.
The pirates were almost at the catapult level. The two ships rowed faster and faster, the chain so close that its shadow loomed over them.
Celaena sucked in a breath as pirates poured onto the catapult landing, weapons held high.
Sam raised his sword. Light from the sunrise gleamed off the blade, bright as a star.
A warning cry broke from her lips as a pirate’s dagger flipped toward Sam.
Sam brought his sword down on the catapult rope, doubling over. The catapult snapped so fast she could hardly follow the motion. The boulder slammed into the tower, shattering stone, wood, and metal. Rock exploded, dust clouding the air.
And with a boom that echoed across the bay, the chain collapsed, taking out a chunk of the tower—taking out the spot where she’d last seen Sam.
Celaena, reaching the tower at last, paused to watch as the white sails of the slaves’ ships unfurled, glowing golden in the sunrise.
The wind filled their sails and set them cruising, flying swiftly from the mouth of the bay and into the ocean beyond it. By the time the pirates fixed their ships, the slaves would be too far away to catch.
She murmured a prayer for them to find a safe harbor, her words carrying on the wings of the wind, and wished them well.
A block of stone crashed near her. Celaena’s heart gave a lurch. Sam.
He couldn’t be dead. Not from that dagger, or those dozen pirates, or from the catapult. No, Sam couldn’t be so stupid that he’d get himself killed. She’d … she’d … Well, she’d kill him if he was dead.
Drawing her sword despite the ache in her arm, she made to rush into the half-wrecked tower, but a dagger pressed against her neck halted her in her tracks.
“I don’t think so,” Rolfe whispered in her ear.

Thobbyturner is having a problem with his account so he told me to help him to post the continuation of the story



CHAPTER
9
Down the slope of the street, Celaena could perfectly see the two slave ships sitting—still unmoving—in the bay. And the mast-snapping chain not too far from them. Unfortunately, from his angle, so could Rolfe.
The sky had turned light gray. Dawn.
Celaena bowed her head to the Pirate Lord. “I’d rather not get my hands dirty in that mess.”
Rolfe’s lips formed a thin line. “Funny, given that you tripped the man who started the brawl.”
Sam glared at her. She’d been subtle, damn it!
Rolfe drew his sword, the dragon’s eyes gleaming in the growing light. “And also funny, since you’ve been spoiling for a fight for days, that you suddenly decided to vanish when everyone’s attention is elsewhere.”
Sam raised his hands. “We don’t want any trouble.”
Rolfe chuckled, a harsh, humorless sound. “Maybe you don’t, Sam Cortland, but she does.” Rolfe stepped toward her, his sword dangling at his side. “She’s wanted trouble since the moment she got here. What was your plan? Steal treasure? Information?”
From the corner of her eye, something shifted in the ships. Like a bird flexing its wings, a row of oars shot out from their sides. They were ready. And the chain was still up.
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look …
But Rolfe looked, and Celaena’s breathing turned shallow as he scanned the ships.
Sam tensed, his knees bending slightly.
“I am going to kill you, Celaena Sardothien,” Rolfe breathed. And he meant it.
Celaena’s fingers tightened around her sword, and Rolfe opened his mouth, lungs filling with air as he prepared to shout a warning.
Quick as a whip, she did the only thing she could think of to distract him.
Her mask clattered to the ground, and she shook off her hood. Her golden hair gleamed in the growing light.
Rolfe froze. “You … You’re … What sort of trickery is this?”
Beyond them, the oars began moving, churning the water as the boats turned toward the chain—and the freedom beyond it. “Go,” she murmured to Sam. “Now.”
Sam only nodded before he sprinted down the street.
Alone with Rolfe, Celaena raised her sword. “Celaena Sardothien, at your service.”
The pirate was still staring at her, his face pale with rage. “How dare you deceive me?”
She sketched a bow. “I did nothing of the sort. I told you I was beautiful.”
Before she could stop him, Rolfe shouted, “They’re trying to steal our ships! To your boats! To the watchtower!”
A roar erupted around them, and Celaena prayed that Sam could reach the watchtower before the pirates caught him.
Celaena began circling the Pirate Lord. He circled her, too. He wasn’t drunk in the least.
“How old are you?” Each of his steps was carefully placed, but she noticed that he kept shifting to expose his left side.
“Sixteen.” She didn’t bother to keep her voice low and gravelly.
Rolfe swore. “Arobynn sent a sixteen-year-old to deal with me?”
“He sent the best of the best. Consider that an honor.”
With a growl, the Pirate Lord lunged.
She danced back, swinging up her sword to block the blow he aimed for her throat. She didn’t need to kill him right away—just to distract him long enough to prevent him from further organizing his men. And keep him away from the ships. She had to buy Sam enough time to disable the chain and the catapults. The ships were already turning toward the mouth of the bay.
Rolfe launched himself again, and she let him land two strikes on her sword before she ducked the third blow and slammed into him. She swept her foot, and Rolfe staggered back a step. Not missing a beat, she pulled out her long hunting knife, slashing for his chest. She let her blow fall short, ripping through the fine blue material of his tunic instead.
Rolfe stumbled into the wall of a building behind him, but caught his footing and dodged the blow that would have taken off his head. The vibrations of her sword hitting stone stung her hand, but she kept hold of the hilt.
“What was the plan?” Rolfe panted above the roar of the pirates rushing toward the docks. “Steal my slaves and take all the profit?”
She laughed, feinting to his right, but sweeping for his unprotected left with her dagger. To her surprise, Rolfe deflected both moves in a swift, sure motion.
“To free them,” she said. Beyond the chain, beyond the mouth of the bay, the clouds on the horizon began to color with the light of the coming dawn.
“Fool,” Rolfe spat, and this time feinted so well that even Celaena couldn’t avoid the rake of his sword across her arm. Warm blood seeped through her black tunic. She hissed, darting away a few steps. A careless mistake.
“You think freeing two hundred slaves will solve anything?” Rolfe kicked a fallen bottle of liquor at her. She knocked it aside with the flat of her sword, her right arm screaming in pain. Glass shattered behind her. “There are thousands of slaves out there. Are you going to march into Calaculla and Endovier and free them, too?”
Behind him, the steady strokes of the oars propelled the ships toward the chain. Sam had to hurry.
Rolfe shook his head. “Stupid girl. If I don’t kill you, your master will.”
Not him giving the luxury of a warning, she threw herself at him. She ducked, twirling, and Rolfe barely turned before she slammed the pommel of her sword into the back of his head.
The Pirate Lord crumpled to the dirt street just as a crowd of bloodied and filthy pirates appeared around the corner. Celaena only had time to throw her hood over her head, hoping the shadows concealed enough of her face, before she took off at a run.
It didn’t take much to get away from a group of half-drunk battlecrazed pirates. She only had to lead them down a few twisted streets, and then she lost them. But the wound on her arm still slowed her considerably as she ran for the watchtower. Sam was already far ahead. Releasing the chain was now in his hands.
Pirates raged up and down the docks, seeking any boat that was in working order. That had been the final leg of her journey last night: disabling the rudders in all of the ships along the docks, including Rolfe’s own ship, the Sea Dragon—which honestly deserved to be tampered with, given that security on board had been so lax. But, despite the damage, some pirates managed to find rowboats and piled into them, brandishing swords or cutlasses or axes and shouting profanities to the high heavens. The ramshackle buildings blurred as she sprinted toward the watchtower. Her breath was ragged in her throat, a night of no sleep already taking its toll. She burst past pirates on the docks, too busy bemoaning their ruined boats to notice her.

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Akinwale14:
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samuelturner).....

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