The Collective by Kenan Hillard Read Free Book Online

and
few between. The guards paid little attention to them. They were led by the
woman so they were safe. On the other side of the portal was another world.
Women moved with purpose as young children scurried around. Abel noticed there
were few women near the entry. Now he saw where the families dwelled, protected
within the inner walls. All the women in this area had their heads covered
signifying alliance to Warden. It was a primitive scene, almost tribal. The men
hunted and protected the children, women and their leader. The children were
simply the key to their future. Maybe if nurtured correctly they could be the
key to turn the tides of injustice. At first glance, the women here were
carrying out domestic tasks. More importantly they were symbols of lost beauty
and simplicity cherished in this society. Who could question Warden’s methods? 
Here was a thriving kingdom in a place where there should only be depravity.
    Isnor let out a whistle. “I’m impressed.”
           Keera
frowned at the scene. “I’m not.”
    “Doesn’t matter.” Abel interjected. “We’re here for the
water. Not a social experiment.”
    “Easy for you to say. Just don’t ask me to cover my hair
and get you a drink.” Keera looked at Abel unsettled.
    “Calm down. I’m sure it’s by choice.” He assured.
    Isnor disagreed. “I don’t know...”
    Their escort rounded the corner into a large room with a
long dining table. Seven people sat at the table, one stood off in the far
corner.  As they entered all eyes were upon them. Hostility instantly flared up
in all but the man at the head of the table. He wore a robe of all white
looking more akin to a prophet than the leader of an army. A smile widened on
his face and his eyes flashed with danger.
    “Excuse me sir.” The woman bowed her head slightly as she
spoke. “May I introduce a new tournament contestant, Abel.” Rising to his feet,
the robed man stood with his hands clasped. “Thank you Isabel. You have done
well, you are excused.”
    She curtsied as she exited. “Warden.”
    Arms spread with a large smile and boisterous voice; his
attire did not fit his tone. The robe adorning him was befitting a church
leader, not the tournament host before them. Warden walked towards the group.
“Welcome, welcome my friends. Your name again?”
    Abel touched his chest first, and then introduced the
group. “Abel. This is Keera to my right and Isnor to my left. We have traveled
from Bourdain for your tournament.”
    “Very good. Keera, Isnor you do not fight, but please honor
me by sitting and having a                     drink.” Warden said with a
toothy smile.
    Keera and Isnor apprehensively approached the table amidst
false grins. Though Warden seemed genuine his comrades were not as trusting. As
they took their seats a different woman brought out two cups filled with a
brown liquid. From the smell it appeared that Warden dabbled with his own
concoction. Isnor pounded his chest as he gulped down the drink. Wiping his
mouth with the back of his hand, he raised his glass to the table. The men
began to relax. Keera leaned forward and took a whiff, a small sip, coughed and
sat back in her chair, eyes focused on Abel and Warden. Shaking Abel’s hand
like a diplomat, one hand over the other, Warden sized him up.  “You’re from
Bourdain. I’ve never seen you. I know most of the young men there.”
    “No. My family is from Gravope.” Abel said flatly still
trying to figure out his host.
    “Gravope.” Now Warden was confused. “Word of my tournament
has traveled that far. I’m at a loss.”
    “Sorry, not to mislead you.” Abel continued. “But I never
heard of you until yesterday.”
    Stepping
back and unclasping Abel’s hand, Warden had tired of the pleasantries.
    “Well...What brings you?”  With a low tone spelling
trouble, Warden appeared ready to strike if the answer did not suit him. He
respected Abel’s bravery to seek him out the day