Avarice Desperation Valley Ch. 21

"I am a man of my word." Lothar continued, realizing he would get nothing at this time, and possibly not for many days. "You have twenty-four hours to decide how you want to do this, then after that God help you." This said he beckoned for his servants to serve him his dinner, as he signaled for his soldiers to take the prisoner from his sight, the interview concluded, his terms set.

*****

Will spent most of that evening engaged in a desperate struggle, determined he would get Aran to safety. The place of shelter he had in mind was not far, but shouldering the injured, by now mostly incoherent, staggering man, the journey seemed very far to him indeed.

Aran's weight was heavy on his shoulder, for although Will was a solid man he was no giant. Aran dwarfing him considerably, and he was so weak now the man could barely stand let alone walk. Will constantly urging him onward, one painful slow step at a time. As he constantly scanned the surrounding horizons for ever present threat.

Overjoyed and relieved was Will when he came upon the other survivors, three in all. Clint, Sean, and Angus, the trio had survived the ambush making it to this place. Each man bore injuries, mostly painful burns, they had rested here in the hope of recovering enough to make the journey home within a few days. Also with the grim purpose of burying one of their less fortunate comrades who could go no further. His final breaths taken here at this very spot as he succumbed to horrific wounds.

Will sat now by the small fire in this company, as subdued as it was, it was welcome, the fire's glow lending him a cheer he had not felt in some time. He had sated his huge thirst and eaten, and that accomplished Will's mind turned to other pressing matters. Aran lay close by, fevered and weak, his pallid skin soaked in sweat and muttering incomprehensible words in his fevered dreams. They had done the best for him that they could out here in the field, and hoped that it would be enough. Aran was young and strong, but as they had seen many times before only time would tell, and that was a hard, cold, unalterable fact.

*****

Renard had wasted no time conducting his search of the camp, nothing was sacred, nothing unturned, he was desperate for a result and running out of time. He had scoured the valley all day since his return, watched with great suspicion by the five warriors Bennett had left behind, as he went about his task with efficient purpose.

Pig played it cool, but he was decidedly unnerved as he watched Renard go about his search, feigning lazy disinterest. All the while a plan forming in his wicked mind, he had to put a stop to this before it got out of hand. Bennett could not know of his mismanagement. Pig feared his leader greatly, and knew what Bennett was capable of when angered, and angered he would be if Renard ever had his chance to make his report.

*****

Bennett sat motionless in his cell as the hours toward the dreaded deadline passed, the interview with Lothar playing over and over in his head. The usually cool and decisive leader now in a quandary what he should do at this moment. He had little choice but to possibly sacrifice the welfare of his closest and most loyal men, Sven and Gareth, to buy much needed time to gain escape.

However a part of him was beginning to doubt, as he looked around at the confining steel fortress of his prison that he would indeed ever affect such a plan. Never had he been in such an unenviable position as he found himself in presently. All his years as hard as they had been, and fraught with the ever present threat of death, and danger, Bennett had always triumphed and defeat of this nature was new to him. Bennett finding he did not feel very comfortable at all with this unexpected turn of events.