Avarice Desperation Valley Ch. 13

Traitorous Alliances.

Seven days passed before Bennett's forces reached his advance scouting party's position, waiting patiently in the ruins high above their target. He arrived at dusk weary to be greeted by Gareth, who at once reported on all that had happened since Sven's departure. There had been little action below, and still no further sign of the Wolf Lord or his intimidating troops. Gareth also indicating to Sven that his earlier suspicions of disloyalty still remained unfounded.

Bennett immediately ordered his travel weary men to rest up, for it would be a big day tomorrow. Most of the warriors bedded down for the night, whilst those higher in rank sat in a tight circle around their leader, hanging on his every word as the evening shadows closed in.

"It is obvious this place is poorly defended, and the farmer will soon have war on his doorstep. They must realize that they will have little chance of victory. I propose that we just walk right on in, if Lothar's men can do it, so can we." There was general assent from all at Bennett's statement, though Renard seemed somewhat subdued Sven noted, his nagging suspicions still not completely allayed. Sven gazed as casually as he could at his brother, sensing Aran too was distracted. I will try again later to get some sense into his foolish head he promised. With Bennett here now he is in definite danger.

Forcing himself with great effort to wrench his concentration back to his leader's words. "We will offer our services as mercenaries, under the pretext that we will be paid in produce, and weapons. If their leader is as desperate as we hope, he should not hesitate negotiate an alliance. With his army in our ranks we should then outnumber our opponents. This Lothar should predictably arrive unprepared and overconfident, thinking this place an easy target, and we will simply take him out with our superior force."

Bennett paused then and added rapacious desire in his voice, and an avaricious gleam in his eye. "Then we can have both the city, and take care of the farmer later." This seemed fine logic to all assembled, everyone in agreement to the plan put forward. They called it a night, as they would go in at first light.

Sven followed his estranged and troubled brother, high over the rocky crest, finding him at last brooding in the darkness, perched on an ironstone boulder, his head clasped in his hands. The two men were alone, they would be unobserved this far from camp. The older man approached him making no attempt at quiet, he wanted Aran to talk. There was a thin wedge of the new moon high in the sky, lending its feeble silver light to the scene below. Just enough that the two could comfortably see.

Aran heard the advance, knowing he would once again have to have this recurring argument that Sven must to his irritation so doggedly pursue against his wishes. Aran had on many occasions made his feelings on the matter more than plain to his meddling brother.

"Aran?" The familiar voice sounded from behind him, followed by a hand on his shoulder. "We must talk." The concerned voice went on.

"There is nothing to talk about, as I have said before." Aran's irritation quite plain, shrugging the hand away, his voice flat, barely veiling his anger on the rise.

"Bennett will kill you brother, and I will not be able to save you. You must change your course, believe me."

"I want her." Aran stubbornly insisted. "He will not stop me."

Sven heard the determination in his brother's voice, knowing him well enough to realize he would not be swayed. Still blood ties pushed his words against all caution, Sven grabbing Aran suddenly pulling him sharply around to face him.

"You will not win against him, don't you understand! Bennett will cut you down, why risk your life for this woman?" Sven entreated, frustrated, passion in his tone.

Aran's fury at once boiled over, his brittle temper having little care for his older brother's nagging concerns. He was yelling now, not at all caring if he was overheard by the others, very close to Sven's face, his hand unthinkingly going for the hilt of his poignard. "You don't get it do you?" He screamed in blind fury. "I love her!" With that he pulled the blade.

Sven instinctively countered with his fist, not wishing to incite his brother to further rash anger by drawing his own weapon. Aran was quicker though, Sven's hesitant blow missing him completely whilst taking a nick in his side courtesy of Aran's razor sharp blade. The older more experienced man deciding at that moment he would need to fight force with force. It pained him to do it but Sven drew his dagger and went in hard, pressing the younger man with his superior fighting skills. It didn't take to long for him to see what he had been waiting for Aran's anger saw to that. Pretending to misread his brother's intentions, luring him in under his guard. Aran as predicted saw the inviting opening, and he drove the knife viciously forward under Sven's defenses, straight toward his heart. However the weapon never found its mark, Aran in his fury oblivious to Sven's other fist, until it collided forcefully with his face.

Sven was on top of him then demanding surrender, wresting the weapon from him, tossing it aside, his own blade poised at the base of Aran's throat. The young man lay there livid with rage, furious at having been beaten so easily. "If I can beat you brother, Bennett certainly will." Sven taunted, trying to drive the hard won message home. Still most wary of relaxing his hold on the furious man he held pinned beneath him. "There will be other girls Aran, you'll see. You will forget." Aran spat in his elder brother's face in defiant reply, still struggling to get free. Sven holding the balance of power sat on him waiting for his brother's fury to subside, before he was ready to let him go.

Sven eased the blade from his brother's throat, as he did so the feeble moonlight caught something that he recognized among the numerous other adornments shining there, an amulet, heavy gold, set with jewels and immensely valuable. Sven recognized its significance in an instant, breaking the chain, tearing it from Aran's neck. "She gave this to you didn't she?" He interrogated, shock in his voice, amazed at his brother's reckless behavior. Aran stubbornly did not reply. Sven just shook his head, taking the silence for an affirmative. "You crazy fool. It's probably better that I don't know the truth of it anyway." He stated. "Little brother you put me in an unenviable position, and a dangerous one too!" He scolded. "You know I really should report this. This could cost me my head as well as yours. Shit! What were you thinking, what the hell did you hope to do?"

Aran had calmed somewhat, cold fingers of fear rising suddenly thinking perhaps Sven would turn him in? He did not need a fertile imagination to guess at what would follow. Still despite this grave situation he found he had nothing to say in his defense. His elder brother would have to do as he saw fit.

Sven tucked the amulet in to his pocket, and got to his feet never taking his eyes from Aran for an instant. Finally after many moments Sven spoke choosing his words with care. "We are first and foremost brothers, I put blood before duty and allegiance to our leader. I will talk to no one of this matter. All I can hope is you have the good sense to let it rest too." With those final words he turned and walked away, dreading the ramifications of his decision.

Renard lay sleepless under his thin blanket, head resting on his lumpy backpack, the stones beneath him digging painfully into his ribs. No matter how clear his resting place, it seemed without fail, there was always another pebble in his side. He gazed at the myriad of stars above him. Oh, to be anywhere but here. He felt itchy, dirty, and uncomfortable, it had been days since he had the luxury of a decent wash. He could feel the chafe of sand in everything he owned and wore. His hair, his blanket, his clothes, but in his mind was where the real misery lay.

He would get little sleep this night, his nerves were raw, his heart thumping in his chest. Tomorrow may well be his last day on earth if he was recognized by his own people. Over and over the dreaded scene played in his mind, he could see himself and his uncivilized companions entering the gates of his beloved home, tensed, waiting for someone he knew to call his name and sentence him to a traitor's death. It could not be changed, not now, his course was set. Renard knew that he was his family's only chance, but he could only help them if they played the game. God! He prayed, please father whatever you do heed my message!

Dawn presented as a bleak gray affair, the sky dull and heavily overcast, the wind still cool, almost cold, with rain threatening. The men broke camp with few words being exchanged, all mentally readying themselves for their various tasks ahead. Bennett had selected a small party to accompany him, six in all, deciding it prudent that he leave a display of further force beyond the gates should there be treachery. All the men equipped their best arms, many with high powered rifles, others with handguns, some even had grenades hanging from their belts, Bennett included. This must be a display of force he reasoned, though he hoped that he would not need to use any of his precious, dwindling arsenal except for show. He had seen no impressive weapons below at all, just the usual wooden spears and bows, but he was cautious. After all hadn't his fine new handgun come from this place? He would still have to be careful, as he knew very little of his intended target.

His warriors took up their positions in prominent, highly visible sites, headed by the armorer Will. Bennett had no desire to risk this clever man in battle at close quarters, Will's skills made him too valuable, and he could be relied upon to lead well. He could see them ranged on high, rifles trained on the settlement below, ready to retaliate should there be any signs of trouble.

Satisfied all his forces were positioned and ready he headed down the slope, flanked by his best, and most trusted core of men, with the hapless Nathan by his side. Bennett, his weapons visible but not drawn, brazenly advanced toward the main gate. He could see a handful of archers, bows taught, arrows trained on him eyeing him from the watch towers above. Noting this and sensing their nervousness he pushed Nathan out in front as a shield. His ever sadistic mind calculating, better they hit one who is disposable first than I. With this he advanced confidently through the gate, commanding voice loud in the electric silence. "We are mercenaries, we are here to seek audience with your leader, let us pass and we will do you no harm."

Thus they continued forward without incident, further into the settlement's interior, its many citizens watching, some tentatively trailing the group, others peering from half shuttered doors and windows. Dogs barked, nervous at the intrusion. All Bennett's party noting that a contingent of men slowly closed in behind them, armed with spears and assorted farming implements. The war-wise warrior in Bennett could all but taste the people's fear, and he was very careful with his moves, knowing that just one error of judgment by either side would incite a bloodbath and foil all his plans.

In this uneasy climate they made their cautious journey to the head man's home. It was set back toward the rear of the settlement close to the river, bordered by green leafy trees and lush gardens. None of which the party noticed, they were by far more interested in watching the nervous crowd around them, as they approached the sprawling wood and mud brick home.

Stephan and his wife Anna surrounded by their bevy of frightened servants, watched the contingent of armed men advance from the privacy of a stained glass window. Anna's face wet with tears as she recognized beyond all doubt her boy Renard amongst them. The usually reserved Stephan was visibly shocked at the irrefutable evidence his son had indeed survived these many years in the wastes. However the men accompanying Renard made Stephan highly uneasy, one little more than a boy, but the rest, large, brutal, and wild looking, and he deduced they would have little respect for anything but the tip of a sword.

The huge door slowly swung wide on its hinges, admitting the six to the house without challenge. Two guards were positioned at the ready to escort them further over the threshold. Bennett registering that they were better armed than any he had yet sighted, having short swords and daggers belted at their sides. They were led without discussion down a sumptuous hallway, lined with sculpture and fine paintings, such item's significance and beauty lost on all there except Renard. The men's heavy boots making a hollow clatter on the polished floor boards as they walked. All felt strange to be in the confines of a home after such a long time living rough in the open. The sounds had a strange quality, and the walls had a confining feel. Bennett thinking he would only be too happy to get this business done and be gone from this place as quickly as possible.

Renard could hardly believe he was at last at home, though this was not his vision of an ideal homecoming. Savoring all the familiar sights, hardly daring to contemplate that until now none had cried his name out loud. He had seen many faces amongst the crowd that knew him well, thankfully his message must have been heeded and obeyed, and this gave him new confidence. Though as they stepped through the great arched doorway into the cavernous chamber he knew he faced his greatest test, his father.

They were ushered into an immense dining hall, with high raked ceilings supported by massive wooden beams. In the center of this room stood a great rectangular table, surrounded by twenty or so ornately carved wooden chairs, with large chandeliers suspended above it containing clusters of numerous white candles. Whilst Persian rugs and intricate tapestries adorned the otherwise plain plastered walls. Bennett's calculating gaze immediately alighting on the man who sat there calmly, watching them enter at the table's furthermost end. Elderly, white haired, and graceful. He reminds me of someone? Bennett at once registering a feeling of unease, though he hurriedly pushed the thought aside and proceeded confidently without pause to advance across the chamber.

In a show of dominance he pushed Nathan to kneeling position on the floor beside his chosen place. Then casually drawing up a chair, leaning comfortably back, it creaking loudly in protest under his unaccustomed weight, and resting his dusty boots in a display of arrogance on the table top scratching its highly polished surface. The old man did not move, or speak, but instead waited for his guests to initiate conversation, all this time returning the fierce looking mercenaries gaze, whilst holding his cool unflustered manner. Bennett's men remained standing arms folded behind their leader, tense, ready for trouble. Whilst the two escorts positioned themselves either side of their Lord, their hands nervously fingering their sword hilts.

Stephan took a good appraising look at the six unexpected visitors. The forbidding leader positioned too close to him for comfort, impossibly big and dangerous, dwarfing the chair in which he lazily reclined. Deciding at once wisely that he would not trust this cruel looking man. His eyes darted to the three other unknown warriors who were ranged protectively behind, all powerful, and desperate looking. Two of which had to be brothers, their likeness to one another unmistakable, and the other much older than the rest covered in the ugly black of tattoos, his burly arms crossed over his chest in an attitude of barely veiled ease.

Then there was the boy, what part did he play in all this Stephan wondered? Doing his best to mask the trepidation he felt. There was no mistaking these were men who knew how to survive and fight, their sun darkened skin crisscrossed with fine white scars attested to their violent existence beyond all doubt. The elderly man again felt unease. Stephan could not begin to guess what his son was doing in the company of such a ruthless band, though he was glad now he had heeded the mysterious message, certain that Renard was in some kind of dire trouble.

The father gazed on his only son as casually as possible, noting with a start the changes in all these years away. Renard seemed harder, not at all the carefree and adventurous youth Stephan could remember as though it had only been yesterday, and he had matured as well. The older man all the while avoiding direct eye contact, lest he accidentally give anything away. Realizing his son had a good reason for all this mystery, and he guessed he would find out those reasons very soon.

It was Bennett who finally broke the silence his deep voice over loud echoing in the vast room. "I am Wezley Bennett, leader of this mercenary band. We are here to offer our services in return for weapons and supplies. Needless to say the desert is a harsh place, and my men and myself would only be too happy to work for some comforts, for an obviously wealthy man such as yourself."

Stephan thought carefully before he spoke, his eyes again settling on the powerfully muscled leader, so sure of himself before him who awaited an answer. Deciding at once he would do nothing controversial until he could speak alone with his son.

The elderly man cleared his throat and replied. "You speak with Stephan, I am head man here, and it would appear Wezley Bennett, your timing is good, as I do indeed require the services of one such as yourselves at this moment. As you have probably already noticed our military strength is poor, we are but farmers, we have no desire to wage war. However in this violent age at times it is an unpleasant necessity......"

"Good," interjected Bennett not at all interested in some old man's waffle, just wanting to cut to the chase and garner a deal. "Then I gather that we can make some kind of bargain that will benefit us all. So let us hear your terms?"

Bennett sat by the roaring fire, his slave Nathan kneeling; eyes downcast, bearing a platter of fine food for his Master's pleasure. That evening the men dined well, a fat bullock had been slaughtered for the occasion, and there was plenty for all. Stephan had proven generous in his dealings, and Bennett was well pleased with the bargain he had struck with the old man. Though he had declined the offer of accommodation in the guest wing of Stephan's large home, preferring instead the company of his own men, who were given the shelter of a large courtyard and adjoining barn. Deeming it wise that his presence amongst them would prevent any violent behavior, or rash impulses from his volatile horde. The head man taking great pains to lecture his warriors that they be on their best behavior for now, or suffer the penalty of his wrath. All there getting the message loud and clear.

Bennett was most sure that there would be no attempt at a double cross, but he left a core of warriors beyond the walls just in case. Still he did not feel unease, Stephan must have indeed spoken truthfully, as Bennett saw no trace of any organized fighting force or formidable weaponry anywhere within the compound. He did note though that this settlement did support quite a number of able bodied men, though just how tried in combat they were was anybody's guess? However appraising them Bennett suspected they would be found very wanting when the time for action came.

The red wine was smooth and of quality, and he found it difficult to resist the temptation of drinking too much after such a long time of being without. The hard man was unusually happy with today's work. He had secured a larger army, and was confident that with this greater force and the accomplished fighting prowess of his own core of men the Wolf Lord when he showed himself would invariably fall.