Avarice Desperation Valley Ch. 36

Victor handled the bulk of his taser in his pants pocket his finger lightly caressing the button he longed to press, already agitated the man was refusing to respond to anything he said. Perhaps a taste of his trusty friend might loosen his tongue a little? It couldn't hurt could it?

Victor looked closely at the face of this man he was preparing to torture, never growing tired of seeing the raw fear he was so easily able to generate in his victims. He wanted to see that now, it gratified his twisted mind in ways he could not describe.

Kario locked eyes with Victor, he had him where he wanted him now and the man had no idea of it. He did not need the knife or the power it lent him for this. The dark strangers mind burrowed into Victors possessing and taking control. The torturers mind was strong and Kario found he had to fight very hard to pierce the man's will. However he was after all only a mortal man, and even the cleverest of them were no match for Kario.

It should have been the perfect escape, if Victor had not inadvertently triggered the taser in his pocket against the side of his leg. The pain snapped the hold Kario had on his victim and Victor yelped loudly and fell to the floor. Furious, as he rolled on the cold tiles.

Victor was not so stupid as to look at the man again. He did not understand exactly what his prisoner had done to him, but was aware this man was even more dangerous than he had previously thought. The incident had unnerved and ruffled him, he rose, turning off the overhead light, going to the metal medicine cabinet, loading a syringe with heavy tranquilizers. Victor was a careful man, and this would not happen again.

Kario knew he had failed but was unsure why, all his life he had toyed with the minds of others with impunity. How had this man thwarted his mental domination? Now his jailer had his measure, getting at him next time would be doubly hard, he had blown his advantage, the consequences looked grave. He felt the needle slide in to his arm the drugs within seconds taking effect, and he was plunged back into the twilight world.

*****

Aran and Sven returned early hours of the morning to a muted reception. Most of the men were asleep, but both Raissa and Maya had waited up for their men to return. Maya did not hide her unabashed joy on seeing Aran, she was no miser with her displays and emotions, wildly running into his arms. The large warrior sweeping her off her feet in a bear hug and carrying her to his usual place by the fire.

The two brothers ate quietly they were both ravenous, Raissa served the men in silence, she kept glancing at the broadsword that Aran had placed by his bed. After the large meal the tiredness kicked in, both retreating to their furs for a well earned rest. Maya wriggled next to Aran her naked skin on his, but he was too tired to respond. Finally giving up on her attempts at arousal and sulking in his arms.

Weary as he was sleep did not come, the dog bite ached and throbbed, and he had to move Maya's slight weight from it, which usually never bothered him. He looked at Maya in the firelight, she was a prize yes, a devoted puppy. He thought briefly of the farmer's wife all breasts, hips, and hair. Lastly he thought of the archer, the long shapely legs, the high cheek boned, perfect face, the proud pert breasts, slim waist, and the long lashed eyes of a temptress. With the fiery attitude that went with it. Aran smiled, now that would be a real conquest. He could not shake her from his mind.

*****

Aurianne was up early, she dressed practically and warmly. Her Mother's body lay shrouded in the bedding. She called for her mare Isabou, who obediently came trotting to the cave's entrance and stood to be saddled. The young woman looked up at the leaden sky, how she wished for the sight of the sun, but it was not to be. The clouds ominously dark with no trace of thinning anywhere in sight as they had been for weeks. She draped her Mother's stiff corpse over the horse with some difficulty, mounted and rode away.

She made good time, the wind was at her back and her mare part heavy horse was sturdy and strong. The icy mane of her mount stung her face as she rode low over her Mother's body holding it steady.

Mid afternoon she arrived at her village, it was a soul destroying sight. The animals all gone, most of the houses torched, frozen bodies littered the landscape, grotesque in death. Blood and fire tainted the snow. She reigned in her horse, leaving the mare to drink at the blackened, and arrow studded water trough, and stood for some moments in the resounding silence where just days before had been life and joy.

Aurianne hardly knew where to begin, there were too many dead to bury, so she took her mare up the familiar path to her home set into the woods. The house was just as she had left it, the door flung wide, the loom with its brightly colored, incomplete weaving spread across the floor, the oil lamp burned out long ago of its precious fuel.

"You are home now Mother." She commented softly to the burden on her horse, commencing to dig a grave in the frost hardened soil.

It was dark as she lowered her Mother into her final resting place and said her last goodbye, gathering up the body of Worgen placing him there as well, knowing her Mother would not have minded. She had loved the dog as much as Aurianne did. In the dark and the cold there was little other option than to sleep. She climbed into her familiar bed and did not rouse until morning.

It was odd to wake in her home to the silence that greeted her, no animal noises, no people, just the bleak wind and the rustling of the denuded trees above. Today Aurianne would build a funeral pyre for the dead, there were too many to bury, but she could not leave them lying where they had fallen to be eaten by passing beasts. Then she had intended to gather up anything of use and head back to the oasis where she would plan her retribution. She had little else to drive her on.

The young woman walked through the door of her home for the last time, wishing her leaving had of been under happier circumstances. She kicked something that made a metallic clink, and spied a fleeting glimpse of gold as the object rolled into the bushes just off the path.

Parting the skeletal remains of the plant life Aurianne drew forth a ring, it had a sense of familiarity about it yet she could not say why. The trinket was heavy and obviously of great value. It was of a curious design, two pure gold finely scaled dragons intertwined with ruby eyes that appeared to glint malevolently. It must have been the cut of the gems she mused for them to appear that way.

This was not something of her Mother's, she knew that well, remembering the warrior she had downed had been dripping with gold. He must have lost this when he was attacked by her beloved pet.

Aurianne cupped it in her hand bouncing it a couple of times in her palm, deciding what she would do with it. She did not really want the memento of the terrible evening and made to fling it into the forest, but something stayed her, and she reasoned while it had no outward value to her, perhaps in the wider world she could use it to gain an advantage? Gold was always a useful currency, and it was not like she had any of her own. She slipped the ring on to her middle finger and went about her gruesome task.

*****

Bennett's clan now numbered only twenty-one, almost half that of one year ago. The balance had also shifted, there were now less warriors than there were slaves. Only nine fighting men remained, opportunities even if the weather improved would still be at best limited. Their seemingly impassive leader appeared confident and carefree, but he could foresee the end of the old ways, he just did not speak of it.

For now they would, and could afford to wait. They had water and food at their disposal and invasion was unlikely. Fuel for the fire though was becoming a concern. The trees here were barely trees at all and on the calmer days the men took the slowly weakening cart horses to some of the nearest destroyed villages that the heavy timbers might be salvaged and brought back to the camp. It was cold thankless work, the men who were warriors now felt like slaves themselves.

Sven had rescinded his second in command status to Gareth, the heavily inked, bloodthirsty oaf seemed most happy with this promotion, and Sven felt his friendship with Bennett turn cold. They had never been real close, but it was a bond based on mutual respect for the others abilities, even if the two had never shared many of the same ideas or preferences.

Sven was on the outer now, even sensing his younger brother's difficulty in his presence. So the sidelined warrior spent the majority of his time focusing on his little family, especially his son, or engaging in many of the heavy chores that needed doing in the camp, further distancing himself from the circle of fighting men.

*****

On the worst of the dark, cold days when collecting wood was not an option there was little to do. Aran would take up his sword and swing it in practice outside. Initially he was discouraged, his old injury under the strain of the sixteen pound weapon burned like wildfire. He took to wrapping his lower arms in leather to support them, it helped a lot, and with time he grew stronger.

Like all the weapons he had mastered, the young man was self taught, and this new weapon would be no exception. Although he had attended martial arts classes as a boy, it was hardly practice for this discipline.

His first clumsy attempts made his muscles ache, and many a time he dropped the blade or struck objects nearby. In one such incident he hit the heavy steel bumper of the old truck, sure he had ruined the weapon completely. Upon retrieving it from the ground he was awed to see the length of the blue black steel unscathed. Running his fingers over its length its edges sharp and true as before, he could not say the same for the metal it had collided with.

Aran figured he was strong, but the mighty blade taught him otherwise. However as the days progressed he discovered he could hold and even wield it in one hand passing it deftly behind his back to catch it in his other one. As he practiced the young warrior's body changed as well, he became even more defined and muscular than before. The great weapon had in essence transformed him.

Aran dreamed of the red headed archer while he sparred with his imagined adversaries. He would have so loved to have caught her at the tip of this blackened steel blade, her perfect face white with fear, watching her delicious breasts rising and falling, as he put the merciless weapon to her throat, making her agree to yield to him completely.

The men had taken to collectively tormenting the captured blacksmith much to the discomfiture of many of the slaves. The solid man had proven most stubborn and provided many hours amusement for the cruelest amongst them. All but Sven and Will enjoyed this sport and participated in it often. The man was strong with a will to go with it, he seemed to prefer to be gradually destroyed than to cooperate with his new masters in any fashion.

Bennett had seen his like before on rare occasion, the sturdy individual took heavy torture well, and the cruel leader admired his spirit even if it would lead to his captive's sure destruction. Bennett had hoped he may have harnessed the smiths skills to be utilized in the camp, but as the days wore on he could see this would not be so. They were having enough trouble merely getting him to cart firewood.

*****

Renard still in chains was at his wits end, anger and disbelief at the apathy of the downtrodden members of this place assaulted him. Given the perfect chance at escape and a better life they had spurned it completely to continue this existence of uncertainty and fear, even Lissa who knew better.

He was so frustrated and the feeling wore his nerves to ragged edges. He fingered the straight blade secreted in his pocket, somehow he must leave this place. His Father needed him, and he needed to at long last return to his beloved home, not as a bartering chip in one of Bennett's evil schemes.

*****

Leaving the great burning pyre to consume her fallen people, Aurianne returned to the oasis and the cave. Once a place of happy memories, of autumn hunts, and quality time spent in the company of her animal companions. Now a base to plan her revenge. The redhead was a grim, changed woman. Aurianne had scoured her ravaged village for anything that might be of use in her enacting her retribution. It was a painful task but she did it nonetheless. Loading her bulging saddlebags until the clasps would barely buckle.

The following day the weather turned foul, thwarting her hopes of scouting to the southeast. She spent the day huddled by a small fire restless and agitated, manufacturing many arrows. At least she did not have far to go for food, her enemies seeing fit to leave her with a herd of cattle, completely eliminating any need to spend time hunting. She was unsure what she a lone woman would do once she found them, but find them she would, and avenge her Mother's senseless death.

Since the attack on her village, and the death of her mother, her nights had been restless ones fraught with worrying disjointed dreams, many of them making no sense to her. Aurianne again tossed fitfully in her sleep. Somewhere a dog, or was it a wolf howled........

The walls of the small cave gave way opening out to become more cavernous, the great vaulted ceiling high above her, a welcome change after the low, dark, claustrophobic labyrinth, which she felt she may never emerge from.

She glimpsed Worgen dart across the spacious underground cavern, towards a faintly glowing light beyond, his black furred form hard to distinguish as he hugged the shadows. Aurianne hurried close on his heels, she had no desire to be left behind in the vast almost light less place.

The big dog led her into an even larger cavern, pausing on the far side of an eerie greenish pond which seemed to be illuminated from beneath in some way she could not understand. The floor was well trodden, and she almost lost her footing on the smooth, worn stone in her haste to keep up.

The young woman looked down and realized the floor was covered with some kind of prehistoric carvings, they were all about the pond in numerous profusion. None of them had any meaning to her, but she felt compelled to get down on her knees and trace their lines with her long, elegant fingers. Strands of her fiery red hair tumbled loose from her long braid and she pushed them out of her eyes venturing closer to the deep, still, body of glowing water.

Worgen emitted a mournful howl, and Aurianne glanced up realizing she was no longer alone. Her dog usually aggressive with strangers sat and wagged his tail like a puppy, a tall man standing next to him clad in black, caressing his shaggy fur.

She stood transfixed, grayish-blue eyes on the man who was otherwise motionless on the far side of the fathomless body of water, the green light shining upward on his pale flesh.

"My Daughter." He stated in a resonant voice, deep and commanding. "At last I lay eyes on you, you are indeed the very image of your mother."

Aurianne did not answer, her mind in turmoil, she had never imagined her mother's knight would appear as this surreal man did. She did not know what to expect, but this apparition before her was certainly not how she had deemed her father would be. Unnaturally tall and slender, raven hair long and straight reaching to his lower back, his ebon nails like claws on his graceful white fleshed hands. He was nothing like her, it was just a dream, a specter sent to frighten her. The man appeared to read her thoughts as though the contents of her mind were transparent.

"I see you do not believe?"

The unreadable black eyes bored into her, she stood straighter, hand ready, resting on her blade. He laughed softly, the melodious laugh reverberated in the cavernous space. Worgen whined and lay down at his feet.

"Save your violence for the mortals amongst you, and those that have done you wrong." He admonished in his powerful voice. "Your weapon would be of little consequence against one such as I."

Aurianne took in the imperious man, thankful the pond was between her and he, not sure at all she liked him. It had been a long time since anyone had treated her as though she was a five year old. Many questions were framing in her mind, but she could not speak them out loud, everyday things did not seem to be appropriate to ask. Rather than say something she might regret she remained silent, letting the princely man hold court. She wished Worgen would come to her, but he remained steadfast, tail wagging at the strange man's feet.

"So it is vengeance that rules your heart, my beautiful and accomplished Daughter?" He smiled, a cold hard smile, continuing his litany obviously not expecting an answer. "Yes, many will feel your displeasure and be silenced by your simple arrows and blade, you will have your vengeance of a sort."

Aurianne blanched at his words, wise enough to sense they held a double edged meaning. She felt great discomfiture, but in the dark cavern with its twisted passages there was nowhere to run, and running had never been her forte.

This man who claimed to be her father skirted the pond, her faithful dog following his silent steps like a shadow. He drew very close, Aurianne felt acutely uncomfortable in his proximity, darkly compelling as he was.

"I see you have mastered the longbow? You intend to lay your enemies low with this?"

Aurianne could not move, he plucked the well made weapon from its place slung on her back, raising a finely sculptured eyebrow in a questioning glance. Still she did not answer him, most unhappy he was holding her prized weapon.

"Yes, a fine weapon by earthly standards, practical, but plain." Nothing seemed to impress him, he ran his beautiful long fingers over the length of curved wood. "But it will not end the life of ALL your sworn enemies." He smiled a hint of a smile that never reached his eyes.

Aurianne sensed danger, this strange entity was toying with her, and to her dismay in his hands, the sturdy wood of her bow crumbled to dust, breaking in two, and falling to the stone with a loud rattle.

"Your dagger will be just as ineffective, Daughter...."

Aurianne was shaken, not even making a move to stop the man from plucking her sharp weapon from her person, it was most unlike her. Likewise in his grasp the once solid blade deteriorated in mere seconds to brittle rusted metal, and was no more, its useless haft clattering to the rune covered floor.

"For your purpose you will need something much more, appropriate."

Aurianne had not noticed until now what looked like a long steel staff partially buried in the man's robes. He brought it forth; however it was no stave, but a six foot glaive of striking workmanship. At its tip, a twelve inch gleaming blade, sharpened down one side for slashing with great force, and the point, razor sharp for thrusting attacks.

Aurianne was familiar with this weapon as she had often used a crude one of her own. It had been but a humble replica of this one, wood with an iron tip made for her by Darius. An excellent choice for fending off the ragged bands of attackers from the palisade walls that on occasion had attempted to ransack their settlement.

This weapon however bore little resemblance to the crudity of such utilitarian tools. The long pole arm was decorated with entwined dragons to enhance its grip, and the steel did not shine with the hue of argent as a normal blade, but like that of a black pearl. Aurianne gasped, her hand traveling to her mouth in silent exclamation, this fantastic weapon was of the same material and design as the sword her mother insisted had belonged to her father.