Avarice Desperation Valley Ch. 24

Pangs of sadness struck him then like sharp razors. He thrust the emotion savagely aside. He had always dreamed succession to leadership would have felt far greater than this. His eyes were heavy and they just wanted to close fighting sleep. The last thing he remembered was Will and Todd assisting him to Sven's cabin, climbing into the furs warm and soft, losing himself in the first comfortable sleep in many weeks.

*****

The silent hours before dawn. No one stirred, the fires had all burned down to faded embers, quietude, and darkness enveloped the camp. Raissa sat by Aran feeling her baby kicking within, it was as though her uncertainty and restlessness had affected her unborn child. Perhaps it had, she was unusually sleepless also. She felt big and unattractive, simple tasks were becoming difficult, and sleeping as well.

The stars twinkled brightly on their bed of deep indigo sky and she sat listening to the sleeping man's rhythmic breathing in the darkness. The crickets musical chirping carried to her ears on the cool night air, goose bumps raised on her usually smooth tawny skin, in the places where her thin red blanket did not quite cover. Gently, ever so gently she stroked Aran's long, blond, hair, thick, glossy, the hue of a wheat field in high summer. Aran did not stir at her light caress, the seduction of deep, dreamless sleep had taken him with all thoroughness.

The young woman who was barely more than a teenager, meditated on what the events of the day would mean for her future. She tried to remain positive, however she felt anxious. It was easy to feel that way right now sitting here in the dark, by the man who would decide her fate possibly in the next few hours. Would Aran choose discard her so close to the birth of her child? She fervently hoped not. Where would she go? Who here would have her then? Raissa felt cheated, did she not strive to work hard, did she not strive to be pleasing?

She felt cursed, tears welled and she fought the impulse to weep in all helplessness. She was sure if Aran cast her out another man would take her, but she did not want just any man. Perhaps Will would take her in, she liked the man. He was kind, at times humorous, and did not demand a lot. She admitted to herself he wasn't much to look at, the scruffy armorer was not in the same league of handsomeness as Aran was, or his brother Sven. However he would make a good father to her child, and he was not lazy or cruel. Yes, life with Will the armorer would not be so bad.

Raissa liked to fantasize that many things here would be of her own choosing, and within her sphere of control, but deep down she knew Aran would decide which man he would gift her when he was ready. She was already sure he would give her away once he was rested and felt better. Raissa dreaded his decision on the matter, but she knew his word would be final, after all she was a slave, she could hope for nothing more.

Her eyes had got used to the darkness, and she cast her gaze around the shipping container that had served as Sven and Aran's home. Sven had used it more than Aran had, the younger brother preferring the company of others around the communal fire in the evenings. Aran really only used this place in inclement weather, which out here in the desert was rare. He was the same way with her, she reflected feeling somewhat bitter, and he had expressed no interest in her since the beautiful woman had arrived.

Raissa felt the bite of jealousy strike and she was happy Frances had not been here in the camp for the past month with all the men mooning over her incessantly. Then in the same thought she felt sadness and compassion for the woman who must by now be in a desperate situation as her rations would be low or non existent. She could picture Frances in her torment, trapped in the dark so alone and cold, none to answer her vain pleas, walled in and vulnerable, thirsty and hunger gnawing, scratching futilely at the earthen walls. The vision made her shiver involuntarily. She tore her mind away to other things.

This humble, echoey, steel domicile had been her home since her capture, and it gave Raissa a kind of security and privacy knowing she could retreat here away from the prying eyes of others when she felt overwhelmed. The future felt dark and uncertain. Raissa dwelt on the memory of Sven, he was a gruff, hard man. Recalling his rugged face, his eyes the color of an approaching storm, his manly scent, and how he felt solid and strong next to her in the darkness. She had shared his bed many nights and it was a comfort of a kind, he made her feel safe in this dangerous world. Now he was gone.

Raissa was aggrieved Sven had not returned and she wondered with so few warriors could they even hold the valley and the precious water supply? Even more frightful would they be ousted by a stronger band of survivors and set to wander the wastes until they perished? Invaders would come as they had from time to time seeking in this desperate wasteland the most precious resource, fresh unpolluted water. All these possibilities were hurting her head, and Raissa yawned suddenly realizing she was more weary than she had first thought, deciding to snuggle down for a couple of hours next to Aran, and the small comfort he offered. First light and her chores were only a couple of hours distant, Raissa deciding she should rest whilst the opportunity presented.

*****

Aran woke late, the sun well past its zenith having no idea he had shared his bed with the troubled slave girl as the new leader had slept exceptionally well. Deep slumber had left him groggy and his muscles were stiff and sore. He roused himself slowly from the furs feeling the warmth of the sun streaming in the open doorway. The tendrils of brightness felt good on his skin, pleasant yet not too hot. He squinted into the bright light rubbing his eyes noticing both food and a wash bowl had been brought to him and placed by his bed, Raissa's work he guessed.

Aran removed his rent and soiled clothing tossing them into a crumpled pile on the floor and bathed as best he could in the small body of water in the chipped ceramic basin. Observing with disgust as the clear water became fouled very swiftly, it had been a long time since he had the opportunity to wash, he had not realized he was so dirty.

The warrior held his damaged arm up to the sunlight that he might see it better. It was healing well. There was still some slight soreness as he flexed it slowly, the scar was raised and somewhat unsightly but overall he was pleased with the improvement. Will had done a good job with the healing considering the man had little with which to work with out in the field. Aran owed him one, though he would never admit it. The warrior smiled a small smile of satisfaction sensing he would wield a weapon again every bit as well as he had previously.

Ablutions completed Aran rummaged about in the rear of the cabin, searching for some better clothes in the battered wooden tall boy, a reminder of another more peaceful age. He and his brother were of similar size and stature, so it did not take him too long to locate adequate garments. Seven years on most of the mass produced clothing had begun to disappear, he now wore a combination of both. Brown hide pants tailored by the women, that hugged his great form surprisingly well, garnered by an enormous weapons belt constructed of thick hide.

He grinned as he discovered the rare treasure of a purple silk shirt, luxuriating in the new clean fabric as he pulled it over his expansive tanned shoulders. A fitting replacement for his last one, gold jewelry tinkling as he did so. As he closed the dull brown drawer, his eyes level with the drawer top, the photo of his brother and himself playing on their bikes in the backyard of their suburban childhood home brought him to a sudden stop.

For many long moments he just stared blankly, reminiscing on those bygone days of normalcy and peace. It pained him to remember his happy childhood, and he found himself gently placing the picture in the drawer safe amongst the bed of soft clothing. There were other photos buried there as well, ones he also could not bring himself to view, his mother and father, pictures of Christmas gatherings and family. It would be a long time before he could look at any of them again if ever.

Aran had always felt blessed to have his older brother by his side, so few had come this far, their family unscathed. Most had lost everything they held dear, relatives, friends and loved ones, all dead or dispersed with no way of knowing if they survived or perished in the great conflict.

Until now Aran had always had the steady comfort of his brother by his side, in decision making, or in the heat of battle. Having Sven there was something he had always taken for granted. Now suddenly he was alone, and being master of his own destiny did not hold the appeal he thought it would. There were times in the past when Aran had resented his older siblings advice or interference, but he would grin and bear it all again to have his brother back. He hurriedly closed the drawer on his memories and made ready to address today's pressing issues.

Aran had many problems on his conscience this fine afternoon as he left the dark of the cabin and strode with purpose toward the cave. The sun felt good through the thin, silk shirt and a light chill pervaded on the breeze, enough that in the shadows it felt uncomfortably cool. The fire in the cave would be most welcome to drive off autumn's chill this day. A lone black crow circled in the clear azure sky far above calling in its mournful tone.

The slaves glanced up at the blond giant as he passed, all engaged in their various activities, they were the backbone of this camp. Without them it would be rudimentary indeed here, and an even harsher existence than it already was. The small multi colored flock of goats were bleating as they climbed the cliffs with great agility, making meals of the hardy box thorn bushes that most other animals passed by. The few spare looking horses and mules grazed calmly nearby, tails swishing at the errant flies.

Yet he gave them not one thought, Renard was on his mind this day. Aran had decided to execute him for his traitorous acts, but first he wanted to know the whole story behind his desertion. Renard had always been an exemplary warrior, fearless and reliable, this was out of character. There must be more to this than just simple discontentment, and Aran would get the full details before he condemned the man to death.

Dwayne and Pig had been placed on watch duty, Aran had not failed to notice the two men's impropriety in the camp's management and he would investigate and deal with that later, until then he had deemed they would be better off out of the way of proceedings. Counting himself, his band consisted of only ten warriors, very different from the original thirty-one under Bennett's command only a month ago. Defending this place let alone raiding with any success would be a difficulty his leadership would face, and he was sure he would have to make many hard decisions in the next few days ahead.

The remaining Warriors were all assembled about the fire in the great cave picking at the cold remains of last nights repast, engaged in mending weapons, and talking quietly amongst themselves. They may have looked casual and very relaxed but they were waiting for him, all troubled as much as Aran was, every man there needing a clear course of action to follow. When they sighted Aran approaching their conversation quieted as he took his place by the fireside. It was some time before he chose to speak, the new leader picking also on the cold goats meat to sate his hunger. Raissa appeared and bought him cool water which he drank greedily. Then focusing his mind to the issues at hand, he began.

Clearing his throat he started slowly, feeling the strength of his leadership, surveying every hard face as they regarded him in turn. His deep gruff voice almost a low growl, building to a more authoritative tone as he progressed. "Our position is precarious here. We number few and our supplies are dwindling." The men shook their heads in agreement. He took more meat, chewed thoughtfully, and continued assessing the response from his men, hoping they were all with him.

"If we were attacked right now there is little doubt we would be defeated, and we would all be driven into the desert to perish. We are simply too few to hold this place." His strong hands held his tankard steady as a rock and his intense green eyes held all in thrall.

The men all nodded assent to this statement, clearly they were worried about this as much as Aran was, and wondered what their young, yet unproven leader was going to suggest. This had been a hot topic of conversation among them all the previous evening whilst Aran slept. Fueled by their response he continued. "We will for the time being double the watch, five of us will survey the surroundings at any one time in twelve hourly shifts, not very desirable I know but most necessary at this time. I have picked the men who will man the shifts and we will gradually rotate them so no one stays up all night indefinitely.

The men did not like this decision but all agreed with the sense of it, looking at their new leader in approval. Still most there were puzzled and it took Will to speak up voicing the question on many men's minds. "But how will this be achieved, we number only ten?" Aran smiled a small winsome smile flashing his even white teeth and elaborated.

"Yes, there may be ten warriors here, but there are others who live here too and are most capable of this task."

The men all looked at one another uneasily, surely Aran was not suggesting putting such an important duty into the hands of slaves.

"You mean, you would............" Todd spoke his thought aloud, not really meaning to do so. To many of the warriors the idea seemed blasphemous.

"We have to!" Aran countered strongly before Todd's sentence was even complete, meaning to quash any dissension fast. Todd was immediately silent. Doggedly Aran persisted with his radical ideas. "The slaves have as much to lose as we do, this valley is their home as well is it not?" He paused here letting his point sink in, before continuing. "We need all the able bodied hands we can at this time, we cannot be too choosy."

Aran stumbled for a moment as he went into the next part of his idea. A concept his men would not take to so readily. However the matter had to be addressed. "I have also noticed the reappearance of our leader's plaything, I do not know how he has managed to cheat death, but I think he should be allowed a chance to join our ranks as a warrior, we have no quarrel with him. We need every able bodied man we can get at this point, and we all have witnessed he is a good fighter."

The circle of men went quiet at this last statement unsure whether they liked this latest idea of their leader's in the least.

"Can we trust him?" Will interspersed, the armorer could never help himself when it came to speaking his mind aloud often to his detriment. Will Aran noted, was less careful with him than he had been with Bennett, and he was not sure he liked this trend. Others nodded and voiced their concern as well along with Will, the conversation suddenly getting very animated in the echoey cavern. Aran raised his broad hands in a bid for silence, it was half heeded, but not completely obeyed.

"He will be watched very closely at first, until he can prove himself to us." Aran assured his men over their voice of discontent. "But I do not believe he has any quarrel with us. His quarrel was with a man now gone. If he abuses the trust we have put in him then he shall suffer fitting punishment as any traitor. Angus, Todd, go fetch him for me... Now." Aran could see the two men were not so immediate to take his orders, pausing far longer then they would have for his predecessor, however they left to do as they were bid.

Aran sighed inwardly he could see he was going to have to solidly assert himself if he was to get these men's complete allegiance. They did not believe in him yet as they had their former leader, this weighed heavy on the young man's mind. It would be a bad time to stand divided, and could cost them dear.

*****

Renard sat bound hand and foot in Aran's cabin leaning against the metal wall, dark eyes abjectly to the floor. His end would arrive soon unless he could think of something terribly clever, of that he was most certain. The slow despairing hours of his endless captivity had been filled with thoughts of the past, his family, especially his sister Frances, and his far away home. He longed to walk the fertile valley of his youth, beneath the dark welcome shade of the tall rows of cypresses and sheoaks, listening to the wind in their tops. To ride his fine chestnut horse through the vineyards, gardens, and fields once more. It was a simple wish, one which looked as though it would have little chance of fruition.

Home may as well be ten thousand miles away he despaired, it was a place that was no longer real to him, or within his reach. In protecting its sanctity he had made his sacrifice, soon he would pay the final price.

To begin with Renard had been optimistic he might escape the stern sentence looming over his head.

However as the time wore on he had begun to resign himself to death. He was ready he thought, he had been caught out and had failed on his mission. Traitors would receive little quarter, it would not matter what side he was on, the sentence would still be the same. He may as well reveal the truth and hope for the mercy of a clean death. Aran would give him that at least he was sure, he was a fair and just man. Renard's only regret was he had failed to find his sister, it made his heart ache in his chest as he guessed time was fast running out for her too, if it hadn't already.

The condemned man's inward reverie was broken suddenly by footsteps heading in his direction. So it is time he thought, time to say his peace.

It was almost dark now but Renard could see Aran's big frame plainly enough as he came up the path to the hut, kicking up the fine red sand as he walked in scuffed boots that had seen better days. The troubled leader pulled up an old chromed steel kitchen chair and sat astride it with his sturdy arms draped over its back looking down intently at his prisoner. The chair creaked under its heavy burden, and Renard could smell newly tanned leather, as the man sat close to him.

Aran looked fierce with his lions mane in the half light, like some primal savage, the ample gold gleamed on his every finger, suspended from his ears, and around his heavy set neck. The red of a large ruby appearing like a clot of blood on his ring finger. Renard at once thinking of his own blood which would soon be wetting the thirsty sands.

Aran sighed almost regretfully and began in a subdued voice. "I felt this interview would be best conducted in private. Renard... you have been an exemplary warrior, and for that reason alone I wish to understand what has happened better before I pass sentence on you. Speak your peace if you will. What you say shall stay here within these walls, just between me and you."

There was a vast silence, Aran shifted his bulk uncomfortably on the chair, he was not a patient man. However he was not so blind he could not see Renard struggling with what was within. So he waited for the man to speak...

Renard's voice was soft and low, he was speaking to the floor. There were the beginnings of tears in his eyes and he was fighting to keep control, grateful it was half dark and Aran was the only one present.

He began slowly at first, but as the minutes wore on he was pouring out the entire story. It did not matter now, he would die soon, but he wanted Aran to understand it was his family he was fighting for. It was they who carried his true allegiance, and whatever the price he would never betray them. Of all in this forsaken place he was sure Aran could understand his sentiments better than most as he poured out his emotion laden words.