Destiny

By Carrie Baize

I know you’ve heard this before, but knowledge is real power. One of these days, we won’t have our weapons to protect us... just our wits. Intel is one of the most important weapons in any arsenal. Quite possibly the most important.
So here’s the intel. Just as important as it was when Owen gave it to me and when my mother and his old man gave it to him.
There are a couple of things you’ve got to realize to survive this world.
To begin with, the world wasn’t always shit. I never saw it, but I know it’s true. It was lush and green and alive and the yellow sun was a welcome body in the sky. It was like that when my mother was a child. I didn’t see it, but I know it’s true... my Uncle Oz told Owen about it and he told me.
The other thing you need to know is simple.
We’re a world at war.
We - the people - have been used, abused and neglected by the governments... cheated out of life itself in their pursuit of luxury. The governments have forgotten that they’re supposed to serve the people... not the other way around.
But I reminded them.

Taya Labidaar was the only child of the one man that had been able to pull the Nordenn Region's scattered dissidents together into an army. She had her father's charisma, her mother's tactical brilliance, and all the knowledge her cousin Owen could possibly share.
Her life, though, is anything but simple. And it just keeps getting more and more complicated.
Following in her cousin's footsteps, Taya is compelled to share what she knows and tell her own story. There's too much to know not to share it...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carrie Baize
• Release date: Mar 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458165695

Carrie Baize

Carrie Baize was born in Santa Rosa, and has lived most of her life in California's Central San Joaquin Valley. She graduated from C.L. McLane High School and continued her education at Fresno City College. She is an avid role player and has spent a great deal of time in a number of fantasy worlds... some well-known, and some of her own design.She credits her parents with her love of the arts and her father, particularly, for her love of role playing and fantasy world creation.Carrie is blessed with a family who, although scattered across the United States, are incredibly supportive and truly believe in her ability to make her dreams come true. She lives in the foothills above Fresno with her husband, four daughters, and a mob of fuzzy four-legged feline children.

Book preview

Destiny

Book Two of the Scarred Sun Trilogy

By

Carrie Baize

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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Published by

Carrie Baize on Smashwords

Destiny

Copyright © 2010 by Carrie Baize

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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This book is dedicated to:

Krys for being the first to demand more

Tony for understanding just how much I need to do this

and the rest of my wonderfully patient extended family

for understanding my insanity

and believing I can make my dreams come true

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Taya’s story, like her cousin Owen’s before her, would never have

been told without the inspiration provided by the art of Phillip Mullin.

The images in his Black Guard series built this world in my mind, and

without his generous consent to tell my own very different version of

the story, this book would not be in your hands. You may view Mr.

Mullin’s work at the Renderosity Digital Art Community.

Thank you, my friend.

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Destiny

Part I

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1 - Things You’ve Got To Realize

I never understood how people could remember things just like it was yesterday until I looked up one evening and realized six full lunar had passed since the night we’d followed Owen into the governor’s compound. All my life, six lunar seemed to feel like most of a lifetime inside Tombstone but it had all come and gone in the blink of an eye.

Six lunar since I’d found my way through the compound using data imprinted on my mother’s DNA.

Six lunar since I’d followed my dying cousin’s final order and finished the job.

And I remember it like it was yesterday...

I knelt down and forced the beast to keep his eyes open as Owen died beside him then I put every mil of my weight on his throat until I felt it crush under my hands.

And I challenged the others.

I followed my cousin into hell and crushed the devil’s throat with my bare hands and scrawled the truth on the wall of his inner sanctum and challenged the authority of every regional overlord in the hemisphere.

My name is Taya and, six lunars past, my actions started this war in earnest.

Don’t worry... I fully intend to finish it.

But before I can finish it, you have to know why it started.

You have to know what happened.

My cousin Owen taught me some the most important things I could ever learn. He was a soldier and a commander... the elite model one, series four who served as the governor’s favorite pitt bull until the only family he knew of was slaughtered by his own men in order to remove conflict and secure the loyalty of one-zero-zero-four.

Ever seen an already dangerous animal get repeatedly abused by its captors?

Owen was kinda like that when we first found him in the wasteland.

The governor had somehow managed to convince himself that one-zero-zero-four was just another killing machine... but the man - my cousin - was still Owen... and Owen was pissed.

He taught me strength and hope and direction. He taught me how to lead my men to victory. He reinforced everything I knew about family and trust and loyalty.

After Ted and Tom got killed, he vanished in the night.

I’ll never know if he thought I blamed him. I never did... but some of the others did.

Owen snapped and took off to kill the governor.

I snapped and followed him.

The night Owen died was the night the rebellion was reborn. All our passion, our drive, our resolve... everything anyone could remember about being human came back and the army of Tombstone Formation stood ready to wade through the mud that filled the region when Owen’s blood and my tears washed the years of dust off the broken backs of the tragically complacent populace.

There have been a lot of heavy skirmishes over the last six lunar, but none of the other regional governors have made any attempt to take control here. Not yet, anyway. Whispers from all over say they’re afraid of us. The unaffiliated hear news and carry it back when we trade and the news is the same from everywhere.

The Tombstone army scares them.

Scavs have a tendency to run the borders and according to their intel, the three regions that border Nordenn - Ladramna, Wallindare, and the Erresene Coalition - are all being extremely careful not to cross over.

All because they’re afraid of us. Afraid we'll meet them at the border and stop whatever invasion plan they've formulated. Afraid we’ll slip through the border under the cover of darkness and bring the same justice to their heads of state as Owen and I did to our own.

They’re afraid of us, and I’m okay with that.

That doesn’t mean nothing’s happening, though... just that the upper echelon of governmental fools have enough self-preservation sense to stay away. We scrap with the troops that remain loyal to the bloated corpse in the governor's compound and run the wasteland making sure the attack dogs leave the unaffiliateds alone.

But over all, it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

I know you’ve heard this before. If you’re someone from Tombstone, you hear it all the time. It’s a simple fact, though... and one that bears repeating. Knowledge is the only real power. One of these days, we won’t have our weapons to protect us... just what we know. And I, for one, refuse to show up to any fight unarmed.

Intel is one of the most important weapons in any arsenal.

Quite possibly the most important.

So here’s the intel. Just as important as it was when Owen gave it to me and when my mother and his old man gave it to him. Commit it to memory. It will serve you later.

There are a couple of things you’ve got to realize to survive this world.

To begin with, the world wasn’t always shit. I never saw it, but I know it’s true. It was lush and green and alive and the yellow sun was a welcome body in the sky. It was like that when my mother was a child. I didn’t see it, but I know it’s true... my Uncle Oz told Owen about it and he told me.

The other thing you need to know is simple. Painful and devastating, but simple.

We’re a world at war.

We - the people - have been used, abused and neglected by the governments... cheated out of life itself in their pursuit of luxury. The governments have forgotten that they’re supposed to serve the people... not the other way around.

But I reminded them.

I crushed the regional governor’s throat under my thumbs and stood on his ivory desk with my bloody boots to remind them.

I reminded them that all men are created equal and are granted by the Creators certain rights and that among those are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

I reminded them that governments are instituted among men to secure those rights and that they derive their just powers from the consent of the governed.

I reminded them that they’d failed.

That consent had been revoked.

And then I wept... because after all that, I was just a girl with only fifteen solar behind her. When all that was done, I was just a child that had to watch my cousin die. I straddled the creature responsible and forced him to watch Owen fade into the night as I crushed his throat... sure... but retribution doesn't dull the pain. When I go to sleep at night, I still cry because I miss my mother and father and cousins and all the other family I never knew.

I’m just one more rebel with more loss than joy in my heart and, like the rest of us; I’ve got the government to thank for it.

But what I am doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot compared to who I am and how I ended up being me.

Who we are means a hell of a lot more than what we are. Labels and identifiers and stereotypes are good for nothing but government statistics. Even the things that shape us really only have a limited amount of control... but how we face them - and how they change who we are - is completely up to us.

So... yeah... I’m a rebel.

I’m the General of Tombstone Formation and our outlying posts. The undisputed ruler of the unified wasteland army.

That’s what I am.

But what’s important is who I am.

My name is Taya.

I’m Faith and Mar’s daughter.

I’m Tom and Ted and Owen’s cousin.

I'm in the fight of my life... of all our lives.

A fight I didn't start.

But I’ll damned sure finish it.

2 - The Most Important Weapon

Life in the wasteland can be pretty unforgiving. The people that stay hidden nice and safe inside the inner walls of the cities don't realize it, but it’s true.

The red sun is toxic. As far as I know, that's common knowledge – but I have no idea who's going to use this information or how long it will sit before someone does. Maybe you actually don't know about the poison sun... and if that's true, I'm overjoyed.

But for now, sunsickness is a dangerous thing. People that don't live in the wasteland don't always understand just how bad it can be... city walls cut out most of the direct blasts and if you're unfortunate enough to be important to the government, there are treatments that can squash symptoms and increase lifespans exponentially. But out here in the wasteland, it doesn't take long for the radiation to destroy a body. I've seen it a lot, and though I try not to think about it, I know a lot of the early symptoms first-hand.

Maybe even some of the more advanced ones, if I'm being honest.

Yeah. I'm sunsick. But that's not important.

On top of the poison the sun hits us with, there are temperature extremes that can broil or flash-freeze anyone foolish enough to get caught outside shelter when a storm hits, and the rains that blow in from No Man’s Land will eat through all but the strongest materials. The darker lunars, which are coming up quick, are plagued with storms and the number of deaths is devastating. The mildlunar rainstorms are the worst, though...

Storms like the one raging outside right now. It’ll pass quickly. Midlunars always do. But it’s almost cold enough to flash-freeze anyone caught out in it and, while most of the inner areas of Tombstone are well protected, I’m constantly reminded that my quarters are less than ideal.

Kyle's been in here four or five times checking up on me... claiming concern that my quarters could have been damaged by the last rain. It only took once to know the old rooms were still secure... once to see that the rains weren't eating through the roof... but I guess he felt like he needed the excuse.

To be fair, both Kyle and Dax had argued with my decision to move into Owen’s quarters after the funeral. Not only did they cite the lack of structural integrity and distance from the command center, but they also said I needed to distance myself and allow myself to let go... but they didn’t get it then and, obviously, they still don’t.

We are where we are, right now, because I chose to follow Owen’s lead... the fact that he’s dead now doesn’t change that.

Hell, it reinforces it.

I know that Kyle has other reasons for checking up on me, but he’s far too dedicated to let those reasons confuse the situation we’re in. He’s stopped himself from saying it more times than I can count and I’m grateful for that... at least for now. Maybe once this region’s secure we can think about it. Once the region's secure, there will be time to deal with things that will distract us. Right now, though, there’s work to be done and there are still only a child-sized handful of men I can trust completely right now. Kyle and Dax would take a bullet for me if it came down to it and Pando had been Tom’s right hand and raised me after my father was killed... but I’m having trouble rounding it out. Apart from those three men, there isn't a soldier left in Tombstone I know... I mean really know... I can trust.

How sad is that?

My entire life among these people and I have three I can count on.

So here I am - sitting in quarters well outside Tombstone’s secure zone and giving my right and left hands fits because of it – recording my thoughts for someone I'll probably never see, hoping they’ll be useful, and sorting through the years of memories Owen left behind for me when he disappeared from Tombstone in the dead of the night to kill the governor.

There's so much to go