08-20-2018, 12:48 AM
Anbessa was wreathed in shadows, dark jeans, black shirt underneath armor that he had fashioned and dark combat boots. The armor was not the best, but it worked. Dark soft cloth wound about his head leaving only his eyes visible. The comm piece in his ear kept his connection to Sesuna live.
He lifted his head from the ground to study the compound, putting lens warriors to his eyes and zooming in. Sesuna had already given him the layout but he needed to see it for himself. It had been a medium sized village on the border of Eritrea and South Sudan. Various trucks and cars stood next to shoulder high walls of stone that surrounded courtyards and buildings. The structures ranged in size from small homes to larger complexes, dotting the area. The buildings were often multi-leveled with parapets that went around the roofs, a place where people would normally spend the evening cooking and enjoying the cooling air.
But this place teemed with men and boys, mostly, all carrying rifles. Few wore anything consistent, but he noted parts of uniforms of the Sudanese, Ethiopian, Eritrean and even Kenyan military and police forces. Probably scavenged from skirmishes along with any weapons and vehicles.
The darkness was broken by floodlights and fires inside empty drums. In the distance, he could see the church where very likely the women were being kept. According to Sesuna, the followers of self-styled General Mebratu Zerezghi had been scavenging the country-side and kidnapping girls and women, some as young as 5, to be used as sex slaves, rewards and incentive to the boys and men in their army. The boys were given alcohol, mosty tejj mead, palm wine, or various types of beer, along with narcotics to keep them compliant.
Therein lay the difficulty. The boys were as much victims as the women, except they were armed and deadly. They needed to drive out the General and his ardent followers. But what to do about the boys? Even if he was so inclined (which he wasn't) he knew Sesuna would never countenance a wholesale slaughter. At best, he could stop the men or maybe capture them and then let the authorities deal with the rest. It was all they could really do. But he couldn't leave his people suffering when it was in his power to do something.
Ibrihim shifted next to him. The man seemed to vibrate with a fiery energy. Rohama, on his other side was quiet, her face firm and eyes set. She knew what went on in that compound all too well. Her grandmother had been taken by Boko Haran decades ago and had spent 4 years with them, passed around from man to man like a cigarette or a bottle of beer.
They were all Qdus. But the monsters didn't have to be magical for them to act. Their exploits over the last 5 years had led to a small but steady increase in numbers as people joined the hunt. Civilization arising amid the chaos, with them Qdus G'brim in the lead. Not that Anbessa felt himself in charge The Negus Mena oversaw them all. But he had been named Heart of the Remnant, Idris, their fiery leader. He knew Sesuna disliked the name and he even understood. She still called him Bessie, as if to remind him what he was, for which he was grateful.
"I will go in first. Follow in 3 minutes." He touched his ear. "Sesuna, watch for any signs of new arrivals and let me know." They had done this before, but it was always good to communicate.
He rose and ran, quick as a lion in the brush, toward the nearest vehicle. The power flowed through him, bringing every noise, every whisper to his ears. His eyes were everywhere and none of the men on the rooftops noticed. He crouched near the tire and waited, listening. Movement in the bed of the truck caught his attention and he spun to see a large man rising up, pulling his rifle around.
He couldn't afford for there to be warning yet. Like a panther, with one smooth motion, he stood up, grabbed the man by his shirt and belt, heaved him over his head in an arc and slammed him to the ground. A heavy grunt escaped his lips, but that was it. Anbessa wove bonds and a gag of air and tied them off, a trick he'd learned in the years he sparred with Ibrihim. The sparring had proved very useful when he'd fought other g'brim. He shoved the man under the truck, the barrel of his rife going limp and impotent with threads of fire, and then turned again to see if he had been noticed. Nothing.
He crept forward, whispering to Sesuna and the rest. "One down."
He lifted his head from the ground to study the compound, putting lens warriors to his eyes and zooming in. Sesuna had already given him the layout but he needed to see it for himself. It had been a medium sized village on the border of Eritrea and South Sudan. Various trucks and cars stood next to shoulder high walls of stone that surrounded courtyards and buildings. The structures ranged in size from small homes to larger complexes, dotting the area. The buildings were often multi-leveled with parapets that went around the roofs, a place where people would normally spend the evening cooking and enjoying the cooling air.
But this place teemed with men and boys, mostly, all carrying rifles. Few wore anything consistent, but he noted parts of uniforms of the Sudanese, Ethiopian, Eritrean and even Kenyan military and police forces. Probably scavenged from skirmishes along with any weapons and vehicles.
The darkness was broken by floodlights and fires inside empty drums. In the distance, he could see the church where very likely the women were being kept. According to Sesuna, the followers of self-styled General Mebratu Zerezghi had been scavenging the country-side and kidnapping girls and women, some as young as 5, to be used as sex slaves, rewards and incentive to the boys and men in their army. The boys were given alcohol, mosty tejj mead, palm wine, or various types of beer, along with narcotics to keep them compliant.
Therein lay the difficulty. The boys were as much victims as the women, except they were armed and deadly. They needed to drive out the General and his ardent followers. But what to do about the boys? Even if he was so inclined (which he wasn't) he knew Sesuna would never countenance a wholesale slaughter. At best, he could stop the men or maybe capture them and then let the authorities deal with the rest. It was all they could really do. But he couldn't leave his people suffering when it was in his power to do something.
Ibrihim shifted next to him. The man seemed to vibrate with a fiery energy. Rohama, on his other side was quiet, her face firm and eyes set. She knew what went on in that compound all too well. Her grandmother had been taken by Boko Haran decades ago and had spent 4 years with them, passed around from man to man like a cigarette or a bottle of beer.
They were all Qdus. But the monsters didn't have to be magical for them to act. Their exploits over the last 5 years had led to a small but steady increase in numbers as people joined the hunt. Civilization arising amid the chaos, with them Qdus G'brim in the lead. Not that Anbessa felt himself in charge The Negus Mena oversaw them all. But he had been named Heart of the Remnant, Idris, their fiery leader. He knew Sesuna disliked the name and he even understood. She still called him Bessie, as if to remind him what he was, for which he was grateful.
"I will go in first. Follow in 3 minutes." He touched his ear. "Sesuna, watch for any signs of new arrivals and let me know." They had done this before, but it was always good to communicate.
He rose and ran, quick as a lion in the brush, toward the nearest vehicle. The power flowed through him, bringing every noise, every whisper to his ears. His eyes were everywhere and none of the men on the rooftops noticed. He crouched near the tire and waited, listening. Movement in the bed of the truck caught his attention and he spun to see a large man rising up, pulling his rifle around.
He couldn't afford for there to be warning yet. Like a panther, with one smooth motion, he stood up, grabbed the man by his shirt and belt, heaved him over his head in an arc and slammed him to the ground. A heavy grunt escaped his lips, but that was it. Anbessa wove bonds and a gag of air and tied them off, a trick he'd learned in the years he sparred with Ibrihim. The sparring had proved very useful when he'd fought other g'brim. He shoved the man under the truck, the barrel of his rife going limp and impotent with threads of fire, and then turned again to see if he had been noticed. Nothing.
He crept forward, whispering to Sesuna and the rest. "One down."