Avarice Desperation Valley Ch. 36

The rating system here is kind of difficult for those who write novellas and submit in chapters as the story unfolds. Some chapters to the reader who stumbles across them do read like complete stories, some though are joining pieces and don't stand alone so well. It's been interesting as a novel writer to see those chapters which perform well, and those that do not. Thanks for the votes guys!

Children of Demons

In the long dark hours Aurianne sat with her mother's head cradled in her lap, the woman had given her the gift of life; and now it was Aurianne's turn to ease her mother's departure from this one. It was a bitter pill for the young woman to swallow, her mother still young and vibrant, why did she have to die? Could some act of providence still save her?

She knew that answer as her emotions ran raw. Sometimes the woman slept, other times she was lucid. It was strange Aurianne thought, she had known everything about this woman, her physical appearance so like her own, her likes and dislikes, her past, her secrets. Now as the hours they would share drew to a close, there were so many questions that she framed in her mind, and the time was running out to ask them.

In quiet tones they spoke of the past, her mother reminisced in joyous rapture of the days before the war, and of the mythic knight who was Aurianne's father. The stories always delighted Aurianne, they had ever since she was a little girl. Even the dreadful stints spent in the air raid shelters were filled with these sparkling tales of the man she had never even seen a photo of. However this night sensing the end was near she would finally ask the question she had always desired, the one she had never dared.

"Mother?" Aurianne questioned tentatively. She was unsure if the woman was asleep, or merely resting, as she had been talking just moments before. She gently brushed the woman's ample red hair from her face noticing she was running a fever now, her blue eyes opened suddenly staring upward.

"Yes, dear?"

Aurianne was relieved she had heard her, and she attempted to frame the question in clumsy words.

"Tell me mother, what happened to Father?" Aurianne felt the woman stiffen and she felt afraid, but her mother was not done with this world quite yet.

"He had to go away."

The answer was so simple, yet raised even more questions, she had always figured he had died and her mother could not bring herself to talk about it. Boldly Aurianne dug further.

"But if he was so wonderful, and you were both so in love why did he leave?"

There she had said it, and at once she was most sorry she had. Her mother looked up at her daughter, a pained expression on her face, but the pain was not that of a physical wound. Her features softened and she gasped as she tried to move.

"Sometimes even though you love with all your heart...... You cannot stay together. You have yet to love my dearest, one day you will understand."

The woman shuddered and closed her eyes. She lay still for some time, breathing shallow, skin pale, she had lost a great deal of blood.

Aurianne was bone weary, the couple of hours of snatched sleep had not nearly been enough. Now that the adrenaline of the battle and narrow escape had subsided, her eyelids were heavy and just wanted to close. Giving in to this feeling she slumped forward on the verges of sleep over her mother's supine form.

"You have the sword!" The ailing woman suddenly exclaimed, her sightless eyes opening for the last time. Aurianne jumped, her heart somersaulting in her chest.

"Yes, I do Mother."

She lied; but technically it was no untruth she told, for her mother had died before Aurianne could answer. The young woman wept unbridled tears, for her Mother, Darius, Worgen, her fellow villagers and friends. Even for her unknown Father. For the first time she was alone; utterly alone.

*****

There was ugly dissension amongst the men that following cold day. Things were different than they had been in the past, and raw nerves were struck. Always a danger and a possibility within this wild group.

"We will not be taking the women." Bennett announced flatly to his men as they prepared to move out. "We do not need any more useless mouths to feed."

Many of his men glared at him, burning disobedience thinly veiled. Some even fingered their weapons, a very automatic gesture in this age of violence. For actions rather than words decided most disputes.

The warriors had fully expected this day to take the two young women as prizes, and the climate was one of dangerous, potentially explosive, disappointment. Bennett knew this, and yet he was prepared to be unflinching in his edict. He had to be, he was the leader here after all. Rations were tight, and they did not need any more mouths to feed.

The two females in question huddled together sharing a blanket. They had been used roughly last evening, passed about to almost all. Only Sven, Aran, and Bennett, had abstained. They were no raving beauties, all they possessed was the first flush of youth, and the comeliness it afforded them at least for a short time. For most of the men, those charms were more than enough.

A carrion bird, black as jet, passed overhead, a rarity to be sighted in the colorless skies. A mournful cry it uttered as it awaited the departure of the bothersome creatures below. That it may feast in peace on the slaughtered unfortunates of the village.

None there noticed however, Aran fastening the cinch of his saddle tighter about his mount, as he glanced uneasily over his broad shoulder toward his disappointed henchmen. He didn't care as the others did, he had a pretty and devoted woman of his own in Maya. He could if he wished even share his brothers' woman Raissa. Bennett's edict didn't affect him in the least.

Angry voices raised carried to him in spurts on the wind. Will standing boldly at the forefront of the knot of angry men. Finger pointed, boldly accusing.

"That boy Nathan, he's useless......." Accusations carried to him on the buffeting wind. Aran turned and leant against his horse, arms loose, sights narrowed, ready.

Sven was the only man other than Aran, who had not become embroiled in the argument. He stood off to the side. Would the slaughter never stop? He turned away, again sickened, but also alarmed at himself. A cold feeling washed over him, prickling his skin. It didn't come from the bite of the wind, it was something nameless from within. That perhaps his feelings and his desires were clearly beyond his control, loss of his manhood had indeed changed everything. A creeping feeling of lack of care about most things was slowly but surely incapacitating him.

"I am your leader!"

Bennett roared at his angry men. Snub nosed.45 wavering in the air, brandished high above his head. A pause in the yelling and dissident talk. All eyes on him, even the reluctant Sven's.

"My word is law!"

A shot fired. The strong black gelding Aran was resting on jumped sideways, he swiftly moved away from the nervous animal.

"The women will not be coming with us! That is final!"

Will was about to again resume the perilous argument, Aran watched him raise his hand, cringing inwardly at the man's foolhardiness. Ill would come of this.

He heard his brother's name called, surprised, as he like himself had stood apart from the argument.

"Finish them." Bennett ordered.

The two women began to cry hysterically, clutching at one another and the blanket. Their pitiful wails could be heard above all the other ambient sounds. Aran was disgusted, and thought, if you are the leader why don't you finish them yourself?

Sven felt overwhelming nausea at the order, an order he must obey. He tried to reason that his actions would alleviate suffering. The women stood little chance of survival if abandoned here to their fate, their lives and families gone.

Yes, he knew that. He was being both punished and singled out for his weakness of last evening. Where had those feelings of hardness, and his ability to methodically follow orders gone? He withdrew his knife, running his blunt fingers over the edge of the blade. Testing its sharpness, readying himself for the senseless butchery he must deliver. Let it be quick.

Aran watched his brother, keenly surveying the reluctance in his walk, sensing his pain. Angry with his leader, for inflicting this on a man who plainly did not deserve more distress. He watched Sven pause at the first of the girls, the thin one with the mousy brown hair.

Every man silent, but it was not pity they felt, it was the feeling they were being unjustly robbed. Only two present felt the acidic gnaw of pity. The first, Darius, chained and helpless to intervene. He cried out desperately to no response.

"Spare them over me! I beg you!"

The other Svend, as he felt the warmness and softness of the girl's skin beneath his calloused fingers. The pulsing of her rapid heartbeat, the quickness of her breath, the vitality of her life.

He closed his eyes and put the blade to her white throat. He had slaughtered many, he would make her exit as swift and painless as he could. It was all he could offer. Bile rose in his throat, as he pushed the blade cleanly home. It was sharp and her soft throat offered little resistance. He felt the girl buck briefly against his solid thigh, and the warm wet of spurting blood.

A strident scream wracked the stillness of the moment. The solitary black crow flew from the dead tree to again soar high above. The remaining heavy set woman scrambling to her feet, seeing her friend butchered so callously before her.

The swiftness, and desire for killing had long left him. Sven watched her run, unmoving, the knife hanging loosely in his hand, the warmth of the dead girl slumped at his feet, gray eyes sad.

"Finish her." He heard Bennett admonish ruthlessly. Reluctantly he moved to do so.

A white quilled arrow sailed through the air, its arc high. The running woman slumped to the earth, and stillness again pervaded. The black crow again returned to its former roost, cawing forlornly. All turned to see Aran returning his bow to his shoulder. He would not suffer his brothers' pain, and he had seen enough.

*****

The raiding party left the forlorn village mid morning, they would form two separate groups. Aran and Sven had agreed to drive the majority of the horses and cattle to the oasis, the other men would accompany the cumbersome carts on a more direct route to the valley.

Aran sat his new horse, a heavy set black gelding with white feathered socks and blaze, his little finely built gray mare lame and too poor to ride any further. She was released into the herd to be driven to the oasis, the only place the horses had any chance of survival.

He cut a fine figure with the broadsword in his belt, his fur cape fanning out over the rump of his steed. Sven amazed at how swiftly a so called civilized man could return to his savage ancestry, it seemed to suit his brother well. He wished he could say the same for himself. Sven took one last look at the field of destruction behind him, mounting his bay and headed off after his wild sibling and the retreating herd.

They had galloped virtually the entire distance pushing the herd of animals hard, the stragglers fell by the wayside and were left behind. Somehow the gray Arabian mare though lame had managed to keep pace, she had strong spirit. It was very late in the afternoon when they drove the exhausted animals through the narrow ravine and on to the spring fed water hole.

*****

Aurianne heard the thundering hooves, she sat bolt upright, wracked with grief, her face streaked with tears. She fumbled near the crumpled bedding for her bow and rose for the first time since her loved one's passing. Letting her mother's head finally fall from her lap, heading to the mouth of the cave.

Her knees were stiff from being in the same position for such a prolonged time. From this vantage point Aurianne had an unobstructed view of the oasis below, there were numerous horses and cattle milling about the pond. She heard her own horse whinny and bolt towards the others crashing through the undergrowth, grimacing she had been too slow to react and restrain the mare.

Her gray-blue eyes focused on the two men on horseback letting their mounts drink, her own horse already mingling with the herd, dwarfing the others. Aurianne had a panicked thought, what if they took her precious mare along with their animals?

The men seemed restless and eager to leave, they did not dismount nor did they appear to notice the addition of her mare to the herd. She pulled a shaft from her quiver and sighted her bow. She had good eyes essential to her uncanny archery ability. However she never let the arrow fly, they were the men who had raided her village sure enough, slain her family and friends. Yes, she might kill those two below her now with ease, but the seeds of revenge ran deeper than that, in the dark hours over her mother's body she had pledged to kill them all.

Aurianne would not rest until she had accomplished her vow, or died trying. The young woman put the bow down and waited, and she did not have long to. The men wheeled their horses about and left as suddenly as they had arrived, the herd of animals remained behind to graze hungrily below.

Aurianne descended from her shelter and made her way to the opening to the blighted wastes above. As she emerged from the high sheltering walls the cold wind caught at her whipping her unrestrained hair, stinging her eyes, the frozen, arid, plains stretched in every direction before her, stark and merciless.

The men had ridden to the southeast, Aurianne saw no reason to believe that in this inclement weather they would have done anything other then turn directly for their home. She would find them in time. There was no more to accomplish here, she would rest briefly and tomorrow she would return her mother to her home and bury her there.

*****

Kario woke on his back firmly strapped to a hospital bed, and although he did not consider himself a strong man by any stretch of the imagination, he sensed even a far stronger man would not have escaped these bonds. He studied the dark ceiling high above him, his eyes running down the assortment of iron pipes that meandered across the field of his vision.

The haze that had inhabited his mind was clearing rapidly. His mind was his most formidable weapon, and he was grateful to have it returned. All his life it had been so, he could not describe the feeling or the sensations it produced. In many ways it had branded him an outcast, though in others it had served him well.

However in this dark room today if indeed it was even day time; it seemed his gift had deserted him. He closed his eyes trying to feel the latent power he had mostly taken for granted, willing to be free. Nothing, not even a glimmer of what he sought would surface.

Kario had learned from a tiny child that he needed the dagger on his person to perform his gifts, but even in its absence he still had a few powerful tricks at his disposal, and it was time to use them now the drugs had worn off. He could not stay here under these circumstances and was not prepared to.

He closed his dark lashed eyes, he did not belong in this world, why had his Mother pushed him away? Dark and beautiful she was, though he had not seen her in many years her image indelible in his mind. One day he would join her and his own kind, the humanity here in this place he found weak and barbarous, wallowing in their own self made misery. Contemptible things they were, and he wanted no part of them, or their primitive world.

*****

With the end of the military campaigns and the unsavory task of culling the unproductive population completed within the walls, Victor Krosse found he had an abundance of spare time. For some weeks he had rested, freed of the majority of all his obligations, seeking the pampering of his slave girl in the privacy of his quarters.

Rationing had begun in earnest, vast sections of the usually lighted subterranean fortress had been shut down, plunged into perpetual darkness. They would have enough fuel to see them through this winter their engineers assured, but when the weather did break their first purpose would be to storm Stephan's settlement with all their military strength and demand the crops be planted. Hopefully the seed would still be viable, and it had been stored appropriately.

However today, those concerns were far from Victor's mind. The hallways were not lighted here, even in the busiest times of the day few frequented this sector which mostly housed disused rooms and surplus stores. The beam of torch light wavered and stopped before a sturdy metal door, the threshold to Victor's dark world. Keys in a black gloved hand grated in the lock. The door swung inward soundlessly.

Few ventured here, almost no one but the Doctor entered and left this small dark room. Only those earmarked to further his grisly experiments saw the inside of this place, a more intimate replica of the torture area in the prison.

He walked to his desk, the neat stacks of papers a silent testament to his shameful past detailing the procedures and conclusions of hundreds of coldly calculating experiments. He had always been this way, even as a young medic he had often overstepped his bounds, brilliant, yet flawed, he had been struck off the medical register forever. Now it ceased to matter, Doctor Victor Krosse could do as he pleased, and never missed an opportunity to do so.

He set his black briefcase down and turned on the lone light bulb that hung over his desk. He heard the restrained man move on the bed but he did not look up beyond the circle of light, removing his leather trench coat and draping it over the chair back.

Victor had after many weeks of drugging his subject senseless decided to let the man regain his senses, the cocktail of heavy narcotics hindering his exploration of this unique captive. Perhaps to do so was folly but he saw no other way of plumbing the depths of the man's mind. For safety's sake he had not brought the knife stowing it away in his apartments. Victor had the distinct feeling he did not want this man to have his full faculties anywhere near the item.

Victor turned to his prisoner pulling the chair after him that he might sit in the dark next to the bed. He settled into the chair surprised that the man was not begging for his freedom like most of the others usually did.

Kario used to the lack of light could see the man well but he did not say a word or even turn to acknowledge his presence. He had become most uncomfortable in the past few hours his body demanding its basic needs. However his mind was stronger, it always won. Shelves of neatly labeled, grotesque body parts in jars lined the walls preserved in formaldehyde. Kario tried his utmost not to dwell on their contents. If only the man would choose to illuminate the room better.

Victor sat, his hands folded neatly in his lap emitting a low almost unbalanced chuckle as he observed his captive.

"You are different. I'll give you that. Care to tell me about it?

So this is how the interrogation would begin thought Kario, he had expected as much. His expansive mind miles ahead of the man who sat straight backed in the chair. The classic military minded torturer, very predictable, Kario was already bored. If only the man would turn on the light above him. He did not answer any of the seemingly benign questions fired at him, but lay quiet. The man would get tired soon and try something else. It took thirty minutes or so before his wish was granted.

The bright theater light overhead all but blinded him after so long in the darkness as it exploded into life. As his eyes adjusted to the glare he could see the older spare looking man examining him closely. The situation had become exactly as he had wished for.