Abolition (Insurrection Book 3)

by DJ Cooper

  “Grandfather?” he murmured, as he searched the faces.

  He glanced back at Millicent and saw the pain in her eyes. “What happened?” he growled, thinking it would take a mighty man to fell the old man.

  “His heart, it finally gave out,” Millicent replied.

  Bevin shook his head as a wave of sadness washed over him. “I’m sorry. Grandfather was a great man and a great leader,” he murmured.

  Millicent nodded. “He was. And he will be missed.”

  A tear clouded her vision and she turned and walked back toward the cluster of warriors who were boisterously greeting their wives and families. She waved a hand at several of the women, motioning for them to gather around her.

  “Okay, I guess we’ll set camp up again,” she said and smiled widely. She didn’t notice Bevin’s eyes on her, following her every move. But she felt it. Turning her face she stared at him boldly then grinned when she watched his cheeks flush a bright red. He was a handsome man for sure. A flicker of interest teased her heart as she watched him walk away, back toward his own men who were milling about, waiting it seemed, for direction.

  Millicent pondered a few seconds longer, her eyes lingering on Bevin and his men. She wondered if they would be traveling to the badlands with her group or leaving for their own separate journey. She made a mental note to approach the handsome soldier and ask him later after things quieted down a bit. She walked over to the group of happy warriors and their families. She smiled and joined in greeting the warriors.

  The afternoon took on a festive feel as laughter rang out. Fires had been relit, several warriors formed a hunting party and had brought back several dozen rabbits and birds. The women joined together to cook the feast, some stirring pots of stewed meats and gravy, some tending roasting wild onions and meat on spits, and others picking fresh berries. The air was filled with tempting rich aromas that made the mouths water and the stomachs growl. Tents were clustered throughout the meadow as families that had been separated, were now joined together again. Millicent sat on a log near one of the campfires and watched the activity, basking in the comfort and security of having the men back. She glanced up when she saw Bevin walking toward her. She motioned for him to have a seat beside her, patting the log, and smiled when he sat.

  “Food will be ready soon,” she said.

  Bevin nodded. He glanced out at the community of people, his heart swelling with joy at the smiles on every face. His men mingled and he heard shouts of laughter as they joked and teased. It was a nice respite after the harsh battle at the village and the rough terrain he’d pushed them over to catch up with the group.

  “I’m hungry and everything smells so good,” he murmured.

  Millicent nodded. “So, are you leaving in the morning, or are you traveling with us to the badlands?” she asked. No sense in beating around the bush. She’d never been one to skip around the hard stuff.

  “We’ll be traveling with you all if you don’t mind,” Bevin replied. He had nothing to go back to, his career with the Honor Guard was over, his life in Rysa done.

  “We don’t mind at all,” Millicent replied, careful to hide the surge of joy she felt at this news.

  Bevin sighed and leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He tried to ignore the sweet scent of jasmine Millicent wore. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he found her incredibly attractive. He smiled as the answer revealed itself. She was strong. She was confident. Those were both extremely attractive qualities to him. Mauri had those same qualities, although he never was physically attracted to Mauri; he thought of her as more of a dear friend. He could see the resemblance of the two women, both confident, strong, and fierce. Glancing sideways at Millicent, he let his eyes wander over her features. Glorious thick hair, a long, straight nose, and a smile that curved her soft lips. So busy drinking in her beauty, he failed to notice her staring back at him.

  “Do I pass inspection?” she teased.

  Bevin felt his face heat with embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry, I, ummm,” he replied, frantic for a reply that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete ass.

  Millicent laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not offended,” she replied and smiled. She got up and strolled away from him, throwing him a sassy smirk over her shoulder.

  Bevin laughed and shook his head as he watched her go.

  The night passed too quickly, and Bevin groaned with fatigue as he rolled off of his sleeping mat. The early morning air was heavy with dew, raising goosebumps on his bare arms. His body ached and his joints screamed with pain as he rose to his feet.

  “I’m getting too old for this shit,” he muttered, staggering his way toward the campfire where several of his men huddled waiting for the coffee pot to boil. His hair stood in unruly disarray and he brushed his fingers through it, feeling the greasy filth of not bathing for the past week. There was a brook not far from the camp and he decided a morning bath was what he needed, so rather than sit by the fire with his men, he made a beeline for the brook. He called out to his men as he passed the campfire,

  “You’d better save me a cup of that toxic brew,” he warned, followed by laughter as several of his men held up empty tin cups.

  “Sure thing, Commander,” one of the men teased. Bevin grinned. Glancing around, he saw that most of the warriors and villagers were already up and cooking over multiple campfires. His eyes searched the group for Millicent, and he grinned when he saw her. She was sitting with a group of women near her campfire and glanced up at him as he passed by.

  “Good morning, Bevin,” she shouted then waved. He waved back, his step just a bit lighter as he walked. Today would be a long day of travel. They had two mountains to traverse before finally reaching the flatter terrain of the badlands. He knew that Grandfather, weeks ago, had sent a scout ahead to alert others that they were coming, but they didn’t know that Bevin and his soldiers would be accompanying them. He was a bit worried about what reception he and his men would receive. These people of the Badlands held no love for the Honor Guard. Shrugging his shoulders, he pushed the worry aside. It would be what it would be. He couldn’t control the unknown.

  Reaching the bank of the brook, he peeled out of his dirty uniform and walked into the crystal clear, cold water. Sucking in a breath, he shivered as it flowed gently up around his waist. Damn it was cold! Working quickly he bathed the best he could, washing off the filth from hard days of travel, then swam leisurely in the deepest part of the brook. His mind drifted as his arms stroked the water and a sigh gently relaxed his aching muscles. For the first time in months... he felt content. Taking one last dive underwater, he swam back to shore and dressed. He felt as though he could spend an eternity just floating in the water and feeling content at the moment. But there was a war ahead of him, looming on the horizon, and it saddened him that he had no choice but to play his part.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Baylin paced the floor, the carpet soft and thick beneath her bare feet. Her face creased with deep thought. The prison held fifty-six new men, all from the village of Rysa. The council was furious that she had ordered Thindrell to arrest them all. They wanted a reason and she’d better come up with a good one. Tossing her braid over her shoulder she marched into her bedroom where her clothing was neatly organized across the bed. A plan wove itself in her mind, one of epic proportions. The village of Rysa had become a thorn in her side along with the territory beyond that. The Badlands, where she was sure Kael and Zyla had fled to. They both were a dark and toxic stain, and no matter how hard she’d tried to erase them, they overshadowed her every waking moment. It was time to bring them all to their knees. She wasn’t worried about the council. She could handle them. They weren’t interested in much of anything beyond their own high and comfortable lifestyles. At least not enough to warrant worry from her.

  Humming softly, she dressed in a ray of sunshine that poured through her bedroom window. Once ready, she picked up the phone in her bedroom and dialed Thindrell’s number. Tod
ay she would set into motion her plan to finally rid herself of Rysa, Kael, his sister, and lastly, the territory that had stayed just beyond their reach for so long. All of these had been nothing but problems for the past few months and she knew exactly how to solve those troublesome issues.

  “Yes,” Thindrell’s voice crackled on the line.

  Baylin smiled hearing his voice. “Burn Rysa to the ground, then move your men into the Badlands. I want Kael and his sister! I don’t care what the cost is, just finish this!” she hissed.

  “Yes ma-am,” he replied without hesitation.

  Baylin set the phone back in its cradle and turned to see her servant standing in the doorway to her room.

  “Get the car ready, we’re going on a little trip,” she snapped.

  The girl nodded and bowed before exiting the room. On her way to the car, she stopped in the kitchen and picked up the phone, punched in a number. When the other end picked up the servant grimaced and let out a whoosh of nervous breath. “Odo, they are coming. They are going to burn down Rysa and then go into the Badlands,” she said, her voice rushing out.

  He growled on the other end of the phone. “Message received. You get the hell outta the city, baby girl! Go to Uncle’s house and hide there,” Odo replied.

  The young servant nodded. “Take care, cousin,” she replied.

  Without a moment’s notice or hesitation she hung up the phone and ran out the front door. She knew she only had a few minutes before Baylin would realize she wasn’t coming back and had to be good and gone.

  Odo

  Odo hung up the phone and looked down at Jorin, Mauri’s son, with a sad expression. He had hoped he’d have more time with the boy but, it wasn’t to be. He sighed deeply and turned his eyes to Delagnes. He’d grown fond of his little adopted family. His eyes softened as he gazed at her on the small couch, her legs curled up under her and her sewing bundled upon her lap. Her hands worked furiously, mending a pair of his pants. She glanced up at him and smiled, then her smile turned to worry.

  “What is it, Odo?” she asked, getting off the couch and setting her sewing down. She walked softly across the floor and stood in front of him. Reaching up, she soothed the frown crease above his eyes with her fingers.

  He gazed down at her, his eyes filled with sorrow. “You have to take Jorin and leave, now,” he said, his voice cracking.

  Her eyes widened in fear and she took a step back, her hand fluttering up to her mouth. “No, why?” she whispered.

  Odo cut a glance to Jorin and grasped Delagnes by the elbow gently leading her into the small kitchenette where Jorin wouldn’t overhear them. He sighed deeply. “The General is sending troops. They have orders to burn the village and capture every woman and child left here,” he moaned. His heart surged with anger and tears stung the back of his eyes at the thought of the destruction facing them all.

  “Okay, so you come too, we’ll run away,” Delagnes pleaded.

  Odo growled and shook his head, his heart-shattering at the expression of pain in her eyes. “I can’t, I can’t,” he moaned, then waved his hand angrily in the air, “I need to stay, to fight, to help the others escape,” he said softly.

  Delagnes shook her head violently. “No! You need to be with us!” she hissed, her voice rising.

  Odo shook his head again, standing firm in his decision. Walking back into the living room, he grabbed a set of keys from behind a picture frame. Pulling her along, he stepped out the back door of his apartment and walked to a small, run-down shed. He unlocked the padlock and pulled open the door. Inside, brushing away the cobwebs, the small room smelled musty from years of neglect. A huge bulky object covered with a mice-eaten old tarp could be seen. He pulled the tarp away to reveal an old, battered four-wheeler.

  “You take Jorin and drive this to the Badlands. Warn those people that war is coming their way, you warn Bevin and Mauri,” he growled.

  Delagnes looked at the four-wheeler then looked at him. She nodded. “I will do as you say, Odo, but I wish you were coming with us,” she replied, her voice cracking as she struggled against the tears that constricted her throat and burned her eyes. She stepped back out into the daylight and gazed at the village in front of her. Her friends, her sisters, her family, they all lived in this village. A cry of anguish erupted from her throat as she raised her fist to the sky. Odo’s arms wrapped tightly around her as she sobbed, holding her close, and he whispered into her ear.

  “Go, save Jorin and yourself, I’ll find you when I can,” he murmured, knowing this was a promise he would not be able to keep. Wiping the tears from her face, she straightened her shoulders and nodded.

  Odo watched Delagnes tuck Jorin into the belt on the four wheeler and climb up behind him. His heart thudded with pain, a feeling so desperate that it took his breath away as Jorin held out his little arms toward him and cried. He waved Delangnes off with a grimace. “Go, just go,” he choked.

  Turning his back, he walked toward the garrison. His footsteps thudded heavily on the dirt in time with his beating heart. Inside, he made his way to the kitchen and spoke to one of the young boys. “Take this note to room 103, give it to the man inside. Don’t dally,” he warned.

  The boy was sandy-haired, blue-eyed, and tall for his age. An Honor Guard youth. He nodded and sprinted from the room.

  Odo thought for a moment after the boy left. The note would set into motion those Honor Guard that were sympathetic to the villagers and the resistance. Those men who lurked and watched, who spirited the desperate out of the village when necessary. There weren’t many, but enough. Enough to take a stand against the army marching their way.

  The sun was just beginning its descent over the mountains when Odo heard the first rumblings of the vehicles. He sucked in a deep breath and prayed his men had gotten as many of the villagers out as possible. He sat in the crow’s nest perch above the garrison, his rifle in hand, peering through the scope. Fifty other soldiers were hidden out of sight as well, prepared to open fire on the first vehicles pulling into town. The other Honor Guard soldiers in the village were staging a welcome, excited, and ready to sweep the village alongside their city brethren, with no idea of the few, such as him, who were standing in resistance.

  The glint of the last rays of the setting sun on windshields pulled him from his deep, long thoughts and he brought his rifle to shoulder level. He would take out the first vehicle’s driver. His men would follow up with an assault on the vehicles behind. Odo knew they wouldn’t be able to stop them, but they would be able to slow them down enough for the last of the villagers who hadn’t yet made it out to flee. It would buy them only minutes, but it was better than nothing.

  He sucked in a deep, shaking breath and gently squeezed the trigger.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aeryn stopped and gazed at the huge dilapidated building in front of him. Rusted metal doors, windows that were barred, and covered with plywood. A tall smokestack rose up from the back, protruding from the roof like an accusatory finger, blackened with years of age and neglect. Nothing else remained surrounding the building but sand and rock. He wiped a bead of sweat from his face and pulled his satchel from his back. He had just about half a bottle of water left and he downed it in one long swallow. The coolness of the liquid did little to ease his parched throat.

  He shook his head, looking about with furrowed brows. There had to be a reason why, here in the middle of no man’s land, this behemoth of a building stood. Picking up his satchel, he slung it over his shoulder and walked up to the front door, and read the sign. Outpost 466, Military Installation, No Trespassers. It took him a few minutes to sound out the larger words but he quickly comprehended the gist of the placard. He wondered what kind of military had once been housed in such a large building. Curiosity took over and he reached out and tested the door handle. He found that it opened easily, albeit with a startling screech as the rusted metal mechanics clicked into place. The sound made him jump back nervously. Once he felt his heart return to a
normal beat he curiously poked his head into the darkened hallway, the odor of mold and mustiness wafted to his nostrils.

  “Hello?” he shouted. The only reply he heard was the empty echo of his own voice.

  Wavering on indecision, he stood a moment. Although it was brutally hot outside, the air inside the abandoned building was cool. Stepping inside, he wedged a rock against the door so it wouldn’t accidentally close and lock him in. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the shadowed low light. Gazing around he saw all manners of old equipment; rusted metal tables, cabinets, and what looked to be like cots lining the hallway with rat eaten mattresses and debris littering the floor.

  A nervous shiver ran through him as he moved deeper into the building. He glanced quickly over his shoulder to the front door, his eyes catching the thin wedge of light. Part of him wanted to turn around and run, but the curiosity to explore the building was stronger.

  His jumpy nature combined with the strange place made him nervous. He jerked his head from side to side looking for ghosts. His heart jumped with terror and he froze when he thought he saw the movement of a shadow cross the light then disappear. Reprimanding himself for jumping at shadows, he cautiously opened one door after another lining the hallway. Poking his head inside each he watched rats scrabble away from the noise, hiding under tables and behind piles of trash.

  “What in the hell is this place?” he muttered.

  If it was or had been Honor Guard housing he couldn’t imagine why they would have abandoned it. The place had a haunted feel to it, as though it were long past its usefulness and had been erected even before the Honor Guard.

  At the last door in the main corridor, he opened it and stuck his head inside the room. He screamed in surprise, then swore, as he saw an old man sitting haphazardly on top of an old metal desk. He was as still as a statue and for a moment, Aeryn actually believed him to be a statue.