Avarice Desperation Valley Ch. 30

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Dark Equus.

Young Eirik grew and thrived throughout that winter. Raissa learned to love the little boy who was not of her expectations, and Sven made a magnificent recovery integrating once more into the circle of men, and re assuming his second in command status.

Bennett never chose to raise the matter of the damming amulet with Sven, though his curiosity burned to know the entire story. However some things were better left to lie.

His henchman had suffered more than enough for any transgression he may have committed. In spite of this Sven seemed to hold no malice at all toward his younger brother, though the price he had paid to cover Aran's actions was high. In light of this Bennett now watched Aran carefully, in recent months he had noticed the young man's confidence, and prowess blossom. He seemed less content to stay on the sidelines, and had he not taken up the mantle of leadership swiftly in Bennett's absence? He liked it not. All these things being reason to now feel uneasy over Aran's presence.

The rains came, they were bountiful, assuring the soil would be in fine shape to plant the spring garden. Abundant grasses, white and yellow carpets of wild flowers bloomed on the usually barren sands, the endless miles of them stretching in every direction as far as the eye could see.

The horses, and mules regained their vigor. The flock of goats depleted numbers swelling with the arrival of many young kids, ensuring an ongoing food supply for tough times. Bennett had mended his relationship with his old friend, and Sven and Aran had been given the gift of just being brothers again. Both men enjoying the kudos of being the uncle and father to the newest member of the camp. Raissa too basking in the attention her baby afforded her, she felt like some kind of celebrity.

If all this bounty was not enough there was no evidence of any kind they had been located by their enemies and traced to this valley. With a reduced force to feed there was less of a strain on the food supply, and life was as easy as it had been for many years. Freed from most of the pressures of the past few months, there was time to see to many tasks that had been left long neglected.

The western pass though heavily overgrown was shored up to prevent the passage of intruders. The stores were inventoried and restocked, most of the dry rations were spent, the alcohol all but gone. Though there were still quite a respectable cache of weapons and ammunition. Order was returned to the huts and the workings of the camp.

Nathan was interred in the unused shipping container that faced away from Bennett's own, with a view of the dried river bed. He was provided with a simple pallet and a place to shelter from the weather. Chained securely about the ankle that he might perform some useful work in the garden and gather if he so wished with the other slaves in the camp's centre.

The teenage boy felt abandoned and cast aside it was a bitter pill. He would watch his Master as he came and went from the adjoining cabin, but it was as though Nathan no longer existed. The boy could hear the menacing man in there enforcing his reign of dominance over his captive. Black jealousy simmered ever below the surface of the impressionable youth, like summer grass waiting for a forest fire.

*****

Aran had prepared to go hunting today, he was not so skilled with the bow as he was with a gun, but Bennett had forbidden the use of all firearms for something as mundane as everyday food gathering. Bullets were more precious than gold, and there was no sense in alerting the attention of any unwanted passers-by to the hidden encampment, especially now their defensive force had been greatly reduced in number.

So the warrior left the valley early that day to scout the plains above, stopping as he passed the horses grazing on the poached egg daisies, the blond man eyeing Renard's roan gelding and toying with the idea of riding him. It would make hunting an easier and swifter proposition, but the suburban educated man had very limited experience with horses.

He could only recall riding a horse once on a holiday by the beach with his brother, the riding school equine so docile it did no more than plod even with his more daring brother kicking it in the ribs. The only thing that seemed to move it was a carrot or similar treat.

Perhaps horses were not for him, though he could see the wisdom in learning to ride as well as Renard could. Still it seemed hard to trust a thousand pound animal that had a mind of its own. Sven rode on occasion clumsily, Aran figured he should too. Approaching the roan, hand extended, echoes of the beach holiday still reverberating in his head. The waves breaking, the screeching gulls overhead in the clear blue skies, his brother calling to him.

Aran was jerked back from this reverie swiftly as the horse shied away from his hand like it had been touched with a white hot iron. The other horses bolting with him, and the moth eaten mules as well.

"Horses, stupid animals, waste of time!" Aran spat, turning on his heel and ascending the steep path all thoughts of riding gone, lamenting the passing of the combustion engine.

*****

The day was a fine clear one, a few fluffy white clouds dotted the otherwise uncluttered skies, and the breeze was a light one from the southwest. Todd on the watch acknowledged Aran as he passed by nonchalantly. The high ground here was flat and windswept, with the occasional rocky ironstone promontory to break the vista of smooth red sand and undulating sea of wild flowers. Aran cast about him, hand shielding his keen green eyes beneath his golden brows from the glare, looking for any telltale sign of game. He could see no trace of movement in the spiked grasses, or in the dark recesses of the ironstone. So Aran wandered further and further from the valley in ever widening circles, he had all day, there was no pressing hurry.

The sun reached its zenith announcing midday, the thus far unsuccessful hunter was thirsty so he stopped for a drink from his canteen in the welcome shade of a rocky overhang. Small skinks scurried from the rocks startled by the intrusion to their usually deserted haven, as Aran made himself comfortable on the unyielding stone. It was uncharacteristically warm this day for winter and in no time the young man found he was dozing in the shade.

The thrumming of horses hooves tore him from the welcome verges of slumber. Invaders! Was all Aran could think. He rose into a cautious crouch with all the athleticism of a big cat, one hand on his dagger loosening it from his belt, bow in the other. The thump of hooves advanced on his hiding place, it was an uncomfortable feeling to be thus cornered. Aran electing to sheathe his dagger and pulling an arrow from the quiver on his back to string his bow, the deadly barb poised, and ready to fly.

A shaggy black hoof pawed at the sand, the only place Aran had seen horses like this were in the service of the Wolf Lord's knights. The man tensed and swallowed hard as the second glossy hoof came into sight and the massive wither of the animal. Its coat shone blue black of almost an almost unnatural sheen, and before he could prepare to attack, the entire beast came into full view.

Aran at once letting his bow's aim fall to the sand, the horse wore no harness and was riderless, clearly no threat to anyone. Aran was not convinced immediately the horses' presence was not some kind of a trap. This fine animal was too valuable to just be running free in the desert not belonging to anyone. He waited patiently, ears straining for any trace of sound. The fine mare did not leave the precinct of the overhang, instead rearing and cavorting in tight circles her dark eyes on him, pawing at the earth raising clouds of sand.

The warrior did not know what to do, but he reasoned that if there was indeed any threat present it would have presented itself by now, so cautiously, bow at the ready he exited the overhang and approached the fretting animal. The mare stopped as he drew near becoming most calm. Aran reached to touch its jet wither an easy eighteen hands in height. The great horse sniffed at the warrior expelling great puffs of warm air like a fire breathing dragon on Aran's exposed flesh catching his scent. The man sliding his hand gently over the mare's huge arched neck toward her noble head coming to rest finally on her velvet nose.

Always one to take in his surroundings Aran turned to survey the sands, and could see the horse had possibly approached from the direction of the valley. This was disconcerting and he felt compelled to at once return home. He gathered his weapons to him and made to leave, the large mare nudged him in the shoulder as he turned away, almost pushing him to the ground. He was surprised at her power. It was then he decided perhaps he could ride?

Aran was nervous about this, but had watched Renard and even Sven ride many times, was it really that hard? Bracing himself, he leapt up onto the horse's back. He was no light man, but the animal did not flinch. Aran was both surprised and excited at this wishing he had some rope to make a crude bridle. In absence of this all he could do was entangle his hand in the animal's voluminous mane and gingerly he urged the beast forward.

The mare went eagerly, obeying even Aran's clumsy signals, he almost fell when the horse broke into a trot, only saved by animal progressing into a smoother canter. The steed effortlessly covered the shifting sands, the warrior clinging to its great back feeling a sense of euphoria. To be one with this magnificent animal felt natural in a way he could not explain, and all too swiftly the valley came into sight in the far distance.

The horse slid to a sudden halt, Aran most unready for the sudden maneuver slid from its back into the dunes cursing and spitting sand. "What the hell did you do that for?" He growled scowling at the animal, the wind knocked out of him, feeling stupid talking to a horse and wishing he possessed a whip. The man dusted himself off and made to mount the animal again, this time it reared and shied away tossing its ebony mane.

Try as he might the mare would not allow him to ride her again, or lead her any closer to the ravine Aran called home. The magnificent horse eventually bolting away at a full gallop to disappear on the southern horizon. Aran stood mesmerized in the horse's wake, and did not tear his eyes away until he could make out the black speck no more. Empty handed the warrior returned to camp as the shadows closed in, none questioning his fruitless expedition, and the temperature dropped promising a frigid night.

The fire felt good as Aran sought the comfort of his furs, setting aside his weapons. He took the drink proffered to him by Lissa, mind still firmly anchored on the mysterious events of the afternoon, and helped himself to ample mouthfuls of roast meat, and steaming yellow corn. Aran looked long at Lissa but decided he was too weary to satisfy more carnal needs this evening, sighting his brother and greeting Sven warmly. It was good to have his older brother's company at the fireside again, the two men made it a nightly habit to dine together by the communal blaze.

Nearly every inhabitant was there this evening as the temperature dropped, and ice crystals formed on the grasses in delicate profusion. The fire was fed, and the cave was wonderfully warm. Bennett sat enthroned in his usual place eating and sharpening a blade with unerring precision.

Raissa was close to the circle of men, the young Eirik wrapped protectively in soft rabbit furs cradled against her breast sleeping. Life had eased for her greatly since the birth of her baby. Sven protected her from any unwanted advances, making it doubly clear to certain men in the encampment it would be a bad idea to mess with what the most mature warrior here considered his.

The perceptive slave girl observed the two brothers talking with one another, their voices low, sitting apart from the others and at intervals in the conversation she noticed Aran's intense eyes cast in her direction. It was most difficult for Raissa to look away. The young woman sensing somehow she was the topic of the conversation, and she was not sure she felt uneasy about being discussed, though she had no idea of the contents of the brother's mutterings lost in the noise of the gathering.

It was warm here but in spite of it Raissa felt a chill pass down her spine and could not help feeling like something important was being decided on her behalf whether she liked it or not. Feeling most uncomfortable she decided she would leave and put little Eirik to bed in his cradle his father had lovingly crafted.

Warren and Lucy sat together as they often did further away from the fire. Lucy always ready to do the bidding of a warrior should it be required. The two of them would put a fur blanket over both of their shoulders and quietly converse with one another. No one paid them any heed, they passed most evenings in this fashion. Warren had become a lot more relaxed as time had worn on, he worked as the others did even though his bad limp slowed him down, and no longer felt his life was in danger or any focus was on him.

"You know I've never been to that fortress." Warren said in a quiet almost whisper.

"I don't think any of us would want to." Lucy shot back. "It did not seem like anyone here got a very good reception." The large woman giggled lightheartedly nudging her skinny man in the ribs. Warren chuckled also, trying to position his broken glasses on his nose. They were fast becoming the bane of his life. He had no hope of getting new ones, and without them his vision was terrible.

"But, really my pet..." Warren's voice was a whisper now. "I actually could have showed those fools something that could have given them that place... Really!" He giggled again, Lucy sobered stared at him. "They think they are such men?" He continued, the topic of the conversation becoming dangerous. "They overlook me you know, but there's something I know of just out there..." He looked from the mouth of the cave.

"Stop!" Lucy spat, as quietly as she dared, glaring at her love. It was already too late, Raissa had overheard part of the conversation and she looked blankly at Lucy and Warren. The two partners in the verbal crime gazed back at her silently pleading, hoping the girl would not speak of that which she had just overheard.

Aran watched Raissa depart, and did not miss her startled reaction to the conversation of the two slaves who were lovers. His brow knotted, and Sven glanced over his shoulder to catch what his young brother was looking at so quizzically.

"Ah she'll accept it." Sven stated glancing back at his brother. Aran paused, took another hunk of meat repositioning himself in his furs, reclining lazily on his side, again going back to his brother's request. The younger man sighed and looked at Sven he couldn't really say no, though his heart wasn't really in it.

"Very well, I'll do the honors then, but not tonight okay?" The real delight in Sven's smile was worth any inconvenience, Aran just elated to have Sven well, and amongst the warriors again, something he never thought he would see.

Aran did not tell his brother of the horse, nor anyone else. Somehow he felt foolish, and it was better unspoken of. The man was weary the warmth and his full belly lulling him to sleep.

*****

There was a constant ping of water droplets dripping into yet more water in the subterranean cavern, the air laden with moisture, a closeness that pressed in on one from every direction. Somehow this place felt familiar to Aran, he could vividly recall the glowing pond that shimmered before him. Strange light seemed to filter through its brackish waters, due to some undisclosed source.

The sight of it drew the man, somehow captivating him, forcing his gaze into its indeterminable depths. The stone that surrounded this body of water was white and polished smooth, its surface covered with strange runic symbols, some of these looked familiar to him others he had never seen their like. Squatting down to inspect them closer his golden hair brushing the floor, tracing the ancient lines with his strong fingers. These too somehow drew him.

She was there beside him before he sensed her presence. Aran started, immediately reaching for a non existent weapon, flustered. The petite woman danced away from him playfully, her musical laughter echoing off the cavernous walls. Long black hair covering her curvaceous form. Unused to being ambushed Aran stood to his full height, his eyes following her every graceful movement. Most odd he thought. The warrior had looked at that unbridled girl many times and she had never seemed much to him. Speechless and no more than a wild child, he had ignored her.

Aran shook his head as though it might aid him to dislodge this strange vision. However it made no difference, Selene again approaching him holding the golden headed giant who towered over her in thrall. The woman child trailed her fine ivory hand across the powerful expanse of Aran's back. She did not hesitate to touch him, as Raissa and the other slave girls always had, there was no hint of reluctance, or fear as she traced the scars the whip had left with tenderness. Her very caress seemed to cause them to close over, heal and fade into nothingness.

Turning to gaze at her Aran met her eyes, black orbs so like those of a raven, dark, unfathomable, dangerous, with the iridescent green ones of his own. She smiled, an ever so subtle change crossed her elfin countenance and the warrior felt both desire coupled with unease. This woman child all about him, touching him, arousing him, she had no fear, she had no shame, she just was.

Aran was never one to pause when faced with a desirable female, however he found he felt compelled to just stand and allow her further exploration of his hard body. Selene's hand left his shoulder blade and traveled down his sword arm, it tingled strangely under her fleeting touch. "Ah still powerful." Again tracing the old scar that ran the full length of his arm. "Perhaps it will be you?" She purred whimsically, and most alluring to Aran, ebon tresses brushing his sun bronzed skin, light meeting dark. The warrior did not question Selene's sudden finding of her voice, and not just any voice but the ageless voice of the mother, the Goddess.

"Come?" She gestured toward the greenish pond, her voice echoed in the chamber. "Tell me what it is you see?" Aran followed her to the edge of the dead still pool, unsure what it was Selene was hinting at. Looking over the edge he felt vertigo, the sides of the body of water cut straight down deep into the fathomless pond. He felt pulled toward it, and had to fight the impulse to fall.

"I see... The abyss." Aran replied. Selene gave him a sideways glance through her mass of dark hair, something about the way she looked at him unnerved him, and his flesh prickled.

"Look again." The girl child all but whispered seductively close to his ear. Aran obeyed gazing into the pool, the green light seemed to pulse with some strange energy. The man was about to look away when he spied a dark shadow in the depths. The warrior narrowed his eyes that he might see better, and the object materialized into a solid form. It was a weapon of exquisite beauty, suspended in the water some six feet below him.

Aran started, such strong dejavu, aware he had seen this all in a dream before while he was delirious from the flogging. The man dismissing it as some fanciful nightmare due to the gravity of his injuries. Why was he revisiting this dream, if a dream it even was?

The great broadsword of blackened steel, some four feet long from its beautifully etched pommel wrapped in twin dragons, to its deadly pointed blade. It's keenness etched in the same mysterious runic carvings that adorned the stone that surrounded this pond. "You can see it can't you?" Selene questioned. Aran could barely bring his usually strong voice to answer audibly.