Avarice Desperation Valley Ch. 35

Sven and Aran had elected to attack one of the larger homes between them, the door had been barred and no amount of force was about to budge it. They would have to gain access by another method. The windows were similarly shuttered with sturdy wooden planks, but the weakness in this structure's defense lie in its roof.

The two men effortlessly gained the top of the low slung building, they could witness the carnage already taking place in the compound below. Guns were being discharged, the warriors were sparing no effort in this conquest. The assorted mismatched materials that kept the weather out easily came away, pried loose by the tip of the handy machete.

As the piece of corrugated iron jimmied upwards the roof seemed to explode beneath them, the brothers rolled sideways reflexively.

Aran the first to recover his composure crawled on his belly towards the gaping entry point. He could see the tell tale shot holes in the tin, he was lucky not to have been hit. The man had already reloaded and was standing steady in the face of danger below, his face grim, ready to die to protect his loved ones.

Sven had not been quite so lucky. He had been caught by some of the stray shot in the upper arm; however nothing that would cause him serious damage. He also gazed down and was suddenly sickened by what he was doing. He could see the huddle of frightened faces half illuminated in the yellow lamp light below, just children, and in front of them their desperate parents defending their own.

Now he had a family it was hard to fully justify these actions, bile rose in his throat. This was not war, this was outright murder his conscience raged. He swallowed and fought the sensation down. This is about survival he reasoned, trying to account for his actions, and spur himself forward. His family's existence bought by the fate of others in this new age of blood and fire, and that was how one survived. There was no other way, or was there?

Aran made the next decision for him, tearing Sven from his reluctant state. His younger brother leaping through the gaping roof mindless of the shotgun. Sven followed suit knocking the woman aside as Aran wrested the loaded weapon from the man, not before it discharged into his defenseless children.

The scene erupted into panicked chaos, Aran dispatching the man in sight of his wailing and injured family, tossing Sven the gun and the precious twelve gauge cartridges. He was like a bloodthirsty dervish with no compulsion, finishing the wounded screaming innocents with no more than a deft knife stroke.

Sven, trained soldier that he was, no longer had any nerve for this. His brother seemed not to notice his hesitation in the least, this scene painted before him was a tableau from hell.

Sven closed his eyes and swallowed hard, opening them again he saw Aran pause at the woman knotting his hand in her ample brown hair. He pulled her upright from the hard packed dirt floor. With her husband and children dead she had no more fight left in her. She was still comely with milky skin and long brown hair that tumbled to her thickening waist.

Sven fingered the well worn stock of the shotgun, and decided he would leave his brother to do as he pleased, he wanted to see no more. Out into the courtyard he went to yet more carnage, he had already decided this would be his last raid whatever the ramifications would be.

He should not have tarried here with the assault far from won, but the battle as always had aroused his ever pressing lust. Aran had mistaken Sven's hurried exit for a simple desire to not see that which he was no longer capable of.

Aran pressed the frightened woman to the floor tearing open the bodice of her dress, the thick fabric rending loudly, even over the sounds of chaos outside. He pressed his weight on top of her frantically loosening his belt with one hand whilst holding her with the other. Seeking the swift release of pleasure she could offer him.

The woman did not fight him, she lay rigid on her back, her eyes to the ceiling, tears staining her cheeks in silent defeat. Aran used her without compassion, the act brief and brutal. Once the urgency of his lust was sated his razor edged dagger ensured she joined her loved ones.

*****

Bennett had chosen his mark, the man they would capture. He appeared to be the blacksmith of the village. Not young nor old, he was big, strong and possessed a skill as well that might prove useful, a perfect slave.

The problem was it was startlingly obvious this man was prepared to die rather than be taken alive. He had rallied many of the villagers to him, and they had fortified their position in the building that housed the forge. Worse still it was a strong building with very few windows or access points and it contained many weapons, or objects that could be used as such.

Aran stood in the doorway buttoning his clothes and adjusting his weapons belt, he tossed the voluminous fur cape back from his shoulders; he was at last warm and it felt good.

He could see most of the focus had now turned toward the solid smith's building toward the rear of the village. Bodies littered the hard, cold soil, and Aran was surprised to see one of them was none other than Angus.

He paused and got down on one knee, the man was irrefutably dead, arrow through the heart. He looked up to hear another arrow intended for him pass close by, the wind on his cheek. He saw his assailant nocking yet another deadly missile outlined in shadow on the roof.

Aran rolled and not a moment too soon, the quivering shaft hitting the ground where he had been just precious seconds before. He sought the cover of a wooden water trough, and drew his own bow. However he was no match for this sharpshooter, none of his arrows striking home. More shafts thudded into the trough's well worn sides just inches from his head in reply.

Gareth, Dwayne and Bennett had taken shelter behind a heavy dray just beyond the smithy, they saw Clint take a hit in the leg and fall, the next missile ending his struggles completely. The three men looked at one another, whoever it was on the roof had to be taken out swiftly.

Dwayne who was a very accurate shot and he began to pepper the roof in return, but in the dark and the mounting smoke they were unsure if they had hit the archer, or if he had merely changed position?

Aran used Dwayne's distraction to get closer to the building and inside of firing range. He covered the ground with powerful strides his cape billowing out behind him, seeking the protection of a small out building that had been a poultry barn. From here he had a good view of the battle zone.

The smith was dimly illuminated, and he could make out many figures between the slatted boards, to his reckoning most were only women and children and a few elderly. Yet they were putting up a brave fight. He had not seen this kind of fierce resistance for a very long time.

It was then he caught sight of the archer and he balked, the deadly shot had been none other than a woman; and no ordinary woman, a young and beautiful one. She had left the roof and was inside with the only remaining able bodied male, the blacksmith, it seemed the two of them were directing the defense.

Aran got down on his belly, and edged closer until he was right against the wall of the solid building. She was only feet from him, confident and strong, waist girded with a dagger in her belt and the longbow and the quiver of deadly arrows on her back.

He had never seen a woman like her. She was tall, almost as tall as he was, and dressed like a warrior in a combination of chain mail and light armor. The hardened leather bodice clung enticingly to her well made body, her leather skirt short like a Roman legionnaire as to not hinder movement, her stance and her frame belied strength few women could ever attain. She was talking to the smith and directing the frightened villagers in a calm tone, there was no mistaking this woman was every bit the warrior Aran was.

Bennett had decided that the acquisition of a single male slave was not worth losing any more men over, and he gave orders to torch the structure, and cut down the remaining inhabitants as they fled. To sit here and attempt to breach this strong defense they would only end up as fodder for the well placed volleys of arrows now being fired from the chinks in the building.

Todd had managed to re light some of the extinguished torches, and passed them about to the close by men. They all broke from cover at once risking the retaliatory rain of arrows to gain the walls of the building.

Bennett smirked in cruel glee as he sighted the large store of hay in the adjoining lean-to. Gareth was there right by his leader's side, and they lit the bone dry tinder together standing back as the intense flames engulfed the contents of the building rapidly spiraling high into the sky.

Will and Pig had managed at great personal risk to push a cart in front of the outward opening door thus blocking off the exit completely. As the fires took hold the rain of arrows subsided, the defenders realized they were trapped in the inferno with no escape.

Aurianne despaired as she had gained her vantage point on the roof far too late to prevent the cart from sealing off the only portal of possible escape from the flames, now she was torn. She had not sighted her mother and feared for her safety, yet she had a duty to try to rescue those trapped below while there was still time.

Her hesitation was brief, she knew her mother would have wanted her to save those below, they were her friends, her life.

She ducked back through the broken roof into the loft, it was already stifling here and the acrid smoke was tainting the air. From somewhere below her she could hear a solid thumping against the wood of the building, an axe perhaps?

She made for the trap door to the smithy below only to be greeted by a blast of red hot flames like dragon's breath. She dropped the door swiftly, embers flew, already igniting on the traces of dry straw in the loft. There was no way back down to the floor below, but she had to help Darius.

Clamoring back out onto the roof she could see the knot of men to the front of the building, their evil visages illuminated by the blaze that was fast consuming the lean-to and the rear of the building.

There were other fires as well, slower to ignite, licking at the walls now in various places. She could hear the trapped citizens below and the persistent thud of what she deemed an axe splintering wood, Darius had not given up just yet, and neither would she.

The warrior woman decided a lone arrow would do little good even if she could dispatch the men out front, she was running out of time to move the cart from the front doors. Perhaps she could just kill their leader? The ensuing chaos may just buy her time for a chance at the cart? She notched an arrow fairly sure the large black leather clad savage with the shaven head was the mark she sought, and aimed with great care.

Loud splintering of wood on the far side of the structure inadvertently saved Bennett's life, the arrow narrowly missing him as he and his rabid men sped toward the harried defenders as they spewed forth from the building.

It was too late, Aurianne saw the men cut the survivors down. Darius in their forefront swinging his great axe in defiance until the last. She was a good shot but she was not prepared to fire into the crowd and down any of her own, the confusion and the heavy smoke making targets even for a good archer all but impossible.

She leapt from the building and fell hard, fortunately she was unhurt, only a little bruised, she had done her best, and her attention now turned to her mother. Sprinting across the darkened compound her red hair flying, to their small home huddled back near the woods.

Aran was the only man there who had noticed her exodus. The battle was almost over, he could see they had finally subdued the blacksmith netting him and wresting the axe from his bloodied hands. He would be taken alive after all.

The men had gone into clean up mode hacking at anyone who still moved to quiet the cries of the dying. The lofty building was now well ablaze it would be a pity none of them would be acquiring the treasures housed within, but the cost had already been too high.

The impetuous warrior tracked after the fleeing woman into the unknown dark leaving his comrades to their dirty work.

Aurianne ran swiftly like a gazelle, even in the dark she knew the way, the fire blazing bright behind her as the roof groaned and collapsed inward on the great building, shooting thousands of sparks high into the sky. Her home stood apart from the others, set back into the woods. A narrow well trodden path lead up to the small wooden building, and if she had hoped her mother's home had been overlooked the open door told her otherwise.

She pulled her knife from her belt, insides sick with what she was afraid she may find. The meager building was only one large room, she and her mother had shared this place for the last seven years of their lives. She peered inside the door, the lamp was still lit, her mother's weaving loom lay fallen across the floor, signs of a struggle.

"Mother?" She called, softly at first. There was no sound, she crossed the threshold into the room her pale gray-blue eyes searching, her well formed lips quivering. "Mother?" She said again this time a bit louder. There were soft footsteps behind her and she turned with a sharp intake of breath, her knuckles white on the haft of her blade.........

"Oh Worgen it's only you." Aurianne all but gasped, relieved it was just her faithful dog appearing like a black shadow from outside. There was the faintest noise from the rear of the room and Aurianne wasted no time going towards it whatever she may face.

"Mi Amor?" Her mother weakly used her pet name from her crumpled position on the floor on the far side of the bed.

"Oh Mother!" Aurianne rushed to her, overjoyed her mother was still alive and attempted to help the woman to her feet, they did not have much time and must flee from here immediately.

Nervously she looked back through the open door toward the center of the village, she could hear the raucous shouts of the invaders and see and smell the burning building. That's when she noticed the large spreading crimson stain on her mother's dress. Aurianne wanted to cry helpless tears at that moment, but she steeled herself, tears would do little to help her survive the situation, there would be time for crying later. Worgen nuzzled the stricken woman sensing her predicament.

"Come Mother we must leave, let me look at you?" Aurianne was faced with a severe abdominal wound, her mother had been shot, and she had no idea how she would treat it. All they could do was attempt to stem the bleeding and get away from here to try to deal with it later once they had reached safety.

Aurianne hurriedly gathered up warm clothes, and stuffed anything of import into saddle bags. Time was of the essence, but there was no point fleeing into the frigid wastes ill prepared.

Fortunately Aurianne's mare was still saddled and standing patiently outside. She had come in from hunting late only to see the battle erupt as she had rushed to attend. "Come Mother we must go." Aurianne coaxed, trying to sound calm when all she wanted to do was hurry away. Her mother took a deep breath and stood, it seemed to take all the woman's effort.

"There is one thing you must bring. It's under the bed." Her mother said huskily trying to manage her pain, holding the bed frame for support. Aurianne did as she was bid, though she really did not deem it wise to linger any further in this place.

She felt below the pallet and hesitated as her hand encountered a large, heavy, cloth wrapped item. She had been expecting some kind of small keepsake, and was not ready for an object of this size and weight.

She gazed at her mother questioningly as the cloth fell away to reveal a spectacular two handed sword. The pommel was wrapped in finely scaled twin dragons, and there were stones of inky black, others grey opaque pearls, seemingly full of trapped polluted water, the metal of an other worldly luster, an indescribable black steel.

Aurianne was dumbstruck and although she could use a short sword and a pike proficiently, she hefted the massive weapon and its substantial weight wobbled with uncertainty in her hands.

"It was your Father's. I've kept it all these years, you must take it." Aurianne sensed the sincerity of her Mother's request, but it seemed crazy to her to bring this massive weapon, valuable looking though it was, that she stood no hope of using in any circumstance. A simple pitch fork would have served her better.

"Come Mother we must leave." She said, firmly guiding her to the door, and the waiting chestnut mare who stood beyond. She lifted her mother into the saddle the woman swayed uncertainly, Aurianne was afraid she would fall, bending down to retrieve the cumbersome sword.

Worgen uttered a low threatening growl. Aurianne's skin prickled though she was not cold. The next she knew, her faithful hound all teeth and claws had launched himself at the golden warrior who appeared from the tree line.

Reflexively she grasped the great sword, its crimson wrappings falling away; exposing the blade which appeared as hardened water. Iridescent color rippling, the broadsword wobbled even though it was clasped firmly in both her hands. It was heavy and unwieldy, and she had no idea how she intended to use it.

Aran was completely unaware of black dog. He had only eyes for the two beautiful women, obviously mother and daughter as they sought to flee. He smiled, the expression more of a grimace than a smile, as he saw the female as strong as she was grasp the sword unsteadily in both her hands. Knowing instinctively she had no idea how to use it, but the dog was suddenly on him and going for his throat, and it was no small animal to be easily brushed aside. The loyal beast was an easy one hundred and fifty pounds of hard muscle.

Aran felt its fetid breath as the dog's white teeth sought his jugular as it would a prey animal, at the same moment the woman was advancing on him. He tore at the canine blindly with his poignard trying to disembowel the animal and not to fall.

It bit him deeply on the forearm as he tried to fend it away from his vulnerable throat, but his keen double sided blade found its mark and the beast tumbled from him still growling into the dark, even in its death throes.

The woman halted seeing her canine companion fall in battle. The light from the distant blaze sparkling on the warrior's great cache of gold and jewels that adorned his personage, and his thick mane of wheaten hair.

He confidently advanced toward her. Aurianne felt fear, she knew this man could, and would kill her, and her mother thereafter. She could not allow this to happen.

She heard her mare Isabou paw impatiently at the earth, but she dare not look away from the advancing savage before her. He was a fearsome sight, large, tightly muscled, and battle scarred. She could see the tell tale white lines of his old injuries even by the thin light of the oil lamp slanting through the doorway. This man and the others with him knew how to kill if they knew nothing else.

Aran walked right up to the sharp tip of her blade in a gesture of nonchalant arrogance, never taking his eyes off her face for a moment. Daring her to try to run him through. He felt the prick of the weapon on his stomach, looking down only for a moment. However that moment was just long enough to form his undoing........

His head reeled as he comprehended in the dim light that the weapon in her hands was the same said weapon of his dreaming, and all he could think was I have to have it this time...