by DJ Cooper
Nods and murmurs rippled through the group. It was only fitting that Grandfather be honored in such a way that everyone could take the time they needed to mourn him.
Candice placed her hand gently on Millicent’s shoulder, offering support and kinship. Losing Grandfather was a hard blow for all of them and she knew they would be looking to Millicent now. It was a heavy burden to carry.
Several women of the group stepped forward. A young woman spoke, “We will begin collecting the wood,” she said.
Millicent nodded to them, “Thank you, that will be a big help.”
The service ahead weighed heavily on her mind, and her eyes stung with tears. They wouldn’t bury him. Instead, they would lay him on pine branches then place him on a pyre of wood.
Traditions for death would have his body burned. Collections of flowers or spring plants would adorn the pyre and it would burn long into the night. After the ceremony, a traditional prayer would be chanted by the entire group while the ash would be collected and saved for their final destination.
Chapter Nine
Bevin lifted his eyes to the mountains in the distance. The village warriors and his group moved as one unit now. Heat poured over him and the sun seemed intent on baking them. Sweat collected under his arms, running freely between his shoulder blades. Every time he moved, he caught a whiff of his own rancid stench. Grimacing, he shielded the sun from his eyes with one hand and lifted the bottle of tepid water to his lips with the other. The pack on his back weighed about twenty pounds or so, but it felt like a hundred. He paused and rubbed the sore spots on his shoulders where the straps had rubbed the skin raw. This was a hard march and as the hours grew longer, the day grew hotter.
“We shouldn’t be too far behind them,” Siloh murmured.
Bevin hadn’t noticed that he’d moved up beside him and walked in time with his footsteps. He glanced sideways at his friend but didn’t speak, a look of sadness rolled across his face.
“I miss her too,” Siloh muttered. “Mauri was a dear friend for many years, we need to think about Jorin now.”
Bevin nodded, changing the subject. “Okay, so this is what we know.” He glanced back toward the mountains and squinted his eyes. “Because of Kaven, we know the Honor Guard are either following Kael, Zyla, or possibly both. Hopefully, those kids will make it to the badlands before the soldiers catch up to them,” he said.
“True,” Siloh replied.
“Also, we need to get these village warriors regrouped with Grandfather so they can protect the rest until they reach the Badlands.”
“Won’t we be joining up with them?” he asked.
“Word has already been sent ahead for the resistance to close ranks and prepare for war,” he muttered, “because I know, as well as I know my own name, that more soldiers are going to be crashing down on everyone once the elites find out that the villagers are rising up,” he finished.
Siloh nodded. That was it in a nutshell. All kinds of hell was about to break loose on everyone.
Bevin sighed. He glanced one more time at the ridge of mountains ahead. Turning to Siloh, he grimaced. “Shall we?”
“After you,” Siloh smirked.
“Okay, well, we had better get moving. Ain’t gonna catch up to the villagers and Grandfather by standing here and running our jaws,” he muttered.
Siloh grinned. He’d known Bevin for longer than he could remember and had always known him to be a hard ball-buster, especially with his troops. This would never change. “Lead the way,” he said, knowing he was stalling for an extra minute of rest.
Bevin stumbled over a leaf-covered root and came down hard on his knees, slamming into the hard, rocky ground. The pain jolted through his legs and into his spine like an electric current. He swore loudly, trying to hurry and get up before the rest of the group arrived. He could hear them grunting and swearing as they pushed through the heavy tangle of brush behind him. They’d made it across two mountain ridges and were now coming down the backside of the second one. Downhill always seemed harder, especially on his knees and hips. Momentarily glancing toward the darkening sky, he shook his head. He had hoped to catch up with the villagers today but they were running out of light.
His knees hurt and he was tired. And he was just about ready to call it a night when he caught the oaken smell of wood smoke drifting on the breeze. His hand instinctively went up to signal the men behind him to stop.
“What’s up?” Siloh asked, moving up beside him.
“Wood smoke, do you smell it?” he muttered.
Siloh lifted his face to the breeze, sniffed, and nodded. “Yes, it seems to be coming from the valley below,” Siloh said.
“Shit, I wish I could see where it was coming from,” Bevin growled, craning his neck to peer between the trees.
“Okay,” he sighed. “Send a squad to find the location of that smoke. It could be the villagers and Grandfather, or a detachment of Honor Guard. We need to know before we go crashing in,” he ordered.
“Yessir,” Siloh responded and turned to leave.
“And Siloh,” he called after him before he could leave to deliver his orders, “tell the squad if it is Honor Guard they are not to engage!” he snapped.
God bless, he was tired. He rolled his shoulders to ease the strain and try to work through the pains shooting through the center of his back to his neck. They were at a standstill until the squad reported back and might as well make camp.
“Let’s move toward that flat area and make camp,” he barked.
Another hundred yards further down the slope they found a flat area in a stand of pine that would shelter them and allow for good watch visibility.
Each step was laborious and once he came to a downed tree, he slung his pack to the ground and breathed a sigh of relief when the pressure eased on his shoulders. In a brief moment of respite, he sat, pulled the pack toward him, and fished through the contents for the bottle of water. After a long draw from the bottle, he leaned back and sat sipping the satisfying liquid, letting it wash some of the dryness from his throat.
Millicent
Millicent stood quietly by the funeral pyre, watching the ashes drift upward toward the darkening sky. The sun was setting and already just behind the mountains. She wiped the tears from her eyes and pursed her lips tight. Fits of weeping had plagued her throughout the day; grief was chiseled in her eyes and on her face.
Insecurity gripped her and she agonized over it. She didn’t know if she could really lead these people the rest of the way. Doubt filled her mind and her resolve wavered. A heavy sigh rippled through her. She turned her head and smiled sadly.
Candice moved up beside her and offered a reassuring smile. “The feast is ready.” She reached out and clutched Millicent’s hand into her own. “C’mon sister, let him go,” she whispered.
Millicent’s head motioned up and down slightly, she knew she was right. She needed to let him go and put forth a strong resolve for the others. She stood straighter, “We’ll leave at first light. I don’t know if I am strong enough to lead them all, but I will surely do my best,” she sighed as she looked out over the group of women and children.
Candice glanced at her in sympathy. It was a heavy responsibility her sister was undertaking. But, if anyone was strong enough, it was Millicent. She smiled and tugged gently at her hand. “Let’s eat,” she said as she led her back toward the center of the camp where the feast was laid out on blankets.
Millicent sat near one of the blankets. She curled her legs up under her. Her body sighed with weariness when she released herself to relax. The sky overhead was deep and dark, and she felt as if she stared long enough, she could easily disappear among the millions of stars that blanketed it. Scents of cooking bear meat, bubbling pots of savory stew, spiced with wild onion, garlic shoots, and something else. She sniffed at the air, yet, couldn’t quite identify the odor that tantalized her. Women worked busily, stirring pots over the open fires while others served up wooden bowls of steaming st
ew to the children, settling them down for the meal. A smile touched her lips. Grandfather would have enjoyed this feast. This thought touched a tender spot in her heart.
She pulled the map from her pocket, the one Grandfather used. Using the firelight, she examined the route they had taken and the route ahead, marked on the map with a black line. They were only days away from the border of the Badlands. According to the map, they had only two more mountain passes to cross, then they should start to see more desert-like conditions. She made a mental note to have the group carry extra water. The closer they got to the desert, the more scarce water would become.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Candice moved beside her and handed her a bowl of stew. “Eat, sister,” she ordered.
Millicent laughed. Candice would never change. Always bossy. “Thank you.” She took a bite of the hot stew and smiled, it was good and she hadn’t realized how hungry she was.
She looked up suddenly when one of the women on watch came running over to her. Her face pinched with stress. “We’ve got company,” she told her, then cut her eyes toward the tree line.
Millicent followed her gaze but saw only darkness. “Are you sure?” she asked.
The woman was agitated, “Yes, we watched them come down from the ridge. They are just watching us for now,” she muttered, her eyes narrowing with anger.
“Okay, let’s act like we don’t know they’re there, stay alert. I’m going to start moving everyone else slowly to safety,” Millicent said while shrouding her lips.
She nodded to Candice. “You take the kids, gather them up, and get them out of harm’s way.” She looked to the woman, “Quietly, prepare the watch and set up defensive positions,” she instructed.
Grandfather made them practice this daily. Many had whined and said they were tired. But at his insistence, even when everyone was exhausted, they ran the drills each day.
Everyone had a job to do. The first thing they did whenever setting up camp each night was to scout the landscape, choose a location of safety for the children, and also choose the defensive positions in case of an attack. Millicent sent up a silent thank you to Grandfather for insisting on this routine. Every member of the group knew exactly what they needed to do and did it without a second thought.
Millicent set her bowl down on the blanket, shot a glance toward the tree line, and stood. She casually moved through the group, stopping, and talking to each of the women, alerting them to the possible danger. Then she made her way to her sleeping mat near a large boulder. Lifting the mat, she pulled her bow from beneath, along with a clutch of arrows, and slipped behind the boulder. Quickly she made her way to a high hill on the other side of camp. Choosing a spot that gave her the greatest view of the camp below, she drew in a nervous breath and waited.
Chapter Ten
Baylin moved about her apartment humming softly. She wore a long, flowing blue print skirt with a hem that settled just above her ankles. Her top, a slightly lighter shade plunged into a deep V. She knew the color accentuated her eyes but the neckline would be more appealing. Her hair was piled atop her head in the latest style and she wore a touch of pink on her lips and cheeks.
She checked the table setting for the third time, nodded and satisfied, walked over to the wine bottle which was perched, and chilling in a silver wine bucket. The bottle was opened to breathe, and she poured a small amount into a crystal glass and held it beneath her nose. The deep crimson color swirled on the sides of the clear crystal and she breathed in its scent before she took a sip. The rich and spicy oak flavor rolled over her tongue pleasantly. She closed her eyes and smiled at the opulent body of the earthy liquid. Everything was set. She glanced at her watch when she heard the soft knock on the door. She smiled. The General was right on time. The servant opened the door and directed the General into the dining room.
When he entered, Baylin smiled demurely. “Thindrel, thank you for coming,” she crooned.
He smiled widely and she watched his eyes feast on her appreciatively. “So, Baylin, to what do I owe this honor?” he asked.
In one glance he took in the entire setup. Dinner, wine, and her dressed to entice. It was hard to keep the smirk from his face. She was up to something, that was obvious. He just hoped it wouldn’t cost him too much.
“Well, remember the other day when we talked? About, ummmm, how much of an inconvenience Asha is becoming?” she said, her voice sultry and low.
His head bobbed up and down. He remembered the conversation well and was now sure he would not like this one.
“Well, I thought we’d discuss it a little more in-depth tonight, and shoot, I figured we might as well enjoy a nice dinner while we did,” she replied, her lips forming a small pout which she knew would drive him crazy. His adoration of her had been evident for some time. She may as well use it to her advantage.
Thindrel smiled, his eyes filling with temptation at the thought of what her mannerisms were promising. “Sounds like a perfect evening to me,” he crooned.
He looked at her hungrily. He wouldn’t be opposed to skipping dinner. In fact, he found he wasn’t really that interested in dinner at all.
Baylin smiled and winked at him as she sashayed across the room for more wine. His face was an open book. Flirting with him was easy.
A squeak from the doorway jarred them both and they turned to watch the servant as she entered the room. In her hands, she carried two plates laden with food, set them on the table, and then pulled out the chairs for each of them to sit.
“Whenever you’re ready, ma-am,” she said, curtsied, and exited the room. She waited until the servant exited before turning back to the General.
“At least they sent me a properly trained servant this time,” her voice strangled with a taut edge. Thindrel cringed slightly, that was a common complaint among the more difficult to please elitists.
“Will you hold my chair for me?” she asked sweetly. He nodded. Walking over he gripped the back of her chair and held it while she sat. She purposely brushed her hand across his, lingering for just a moment before sitting.
Once she was seated, he moved to his own chair and sat. “Okay, so let’s discuss Asha.” His eyes bored into hers with a shimmer of anticipation.
The young servant girl stood outside the dining room door listening intently to the conversation inside. What she heard made her blood run cold and her breath catch in her throat.
“So, a drop or two of this? Into her tea? Then this problem will disappear,” Baylin told him, followed by soft, tinkling laughter.
“I can do that, I’ll invite her to the Tea Nook,” Thindrel replied. “Tell her I’ve heard news about Kael and Zyla,” he finished.
The girl hissed under her breath. She adored Asha, she had to warn her. Angrily she pressed her lips together. Her sister could help and she would need to do it right away before he got Asha to go for tea.
A snarl formed across her lips as she thought about how evil Baylin was. She’d heard rumors about her cruelty to the servants but paid little heed to them. All the servants talked about their employers. She’d been in service to Baylin for three days now and the snide and nasty woman had struck her more times than she could count. She was truly one of the worst and her reputation did not give justice to her kind of cruelty. The girl resolved to stop her and she picked up the phone in Baylin’s study, dialing Asha’s kitchen extension. It wouldn’t ring in the main house, it was for the servants only. Keeping an eye on the dining-room door, she spoke quickly when her sister answered.
“So you have got to warn Asha!” she finished.
“I will don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” she replied, hanging up the phone. Satisfied, she scooted quickly to the kitchen to prepare Baylin and her guest their dessert. She wished for the poison she overheard Baylin talking about. She would gladly give her a drop or two like she wanted to give Asha.
“Karma, you bitch,” she growled under her breath.
Chapter Eleven
Aeryn moved
through the forest, moving lower in elevation, the trees around him became sparse and the brush became scraggy. The ground beneath him went from the lush rich soil to pebbled and sandier. Overhead, the sun beat down on him through the sparse canopy, giving him a headache. Taking a swipe at the beads of sweat rolling down his face, he sighed. He sat on a small clump of rocks in the shade of a large boulder and pulled out his water bottle. It had only a few ounces left and he had yet to find a stream or even a decent puddle to refill it.
“Damn it!” he muttered, tipping the bottle up to take one precious swallow of the tepid water. He checked the level again and stuffed it back into his pack. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes as he gazed out over the unfamiliar terrain. According to his map, there should have been water nearby. He feared he may have missed it or worse yet gotten completely off track. His stomach growled hungrily. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday and he was feeling it. Although he kept alert for food, he’d seen nothing. Not even a snake or rodent. The grumbling in his belly would have to wait. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled the map from the satchel. Tracing his finger along the route, he grimaced. According to the map, he was five miles into the Badlands. He paused and looked around, “Funny, they don’t seem so bad to me,” he snorted.
He leaned back against the rock. “Man, my back is killing me,” he said.
Reaching behind he twisted and arched to stretch his aching muscles. Under his left hand, he felt an odd indentation on the boulder. Curiously, he craned his neck to look and shook his head at what he saw.
“What?” he muttered, as he bent closer to look at the carving in the stone. It was somewhat faded but clearly the outline of a dragonfly. He had seen this carving now three times, once on a tree in the forest, once in the mud on a riverbank, and now on this stone. He wondered what it could mean.
