Avarice Desperation Valley Ch 03

Stolen Bliss.

It was very early, darkness on the verge of giving way to dawn. The first birds had begun to stir though it was yet still night. Carlos was warm, cozily warm, and if it hadn't been for the massive brute sharing his bed he might have even felt comfortable and glad. However it was not to be, came the depressing reality. Bennett was still sleeping, his large muscular arms encircling his unwilling prize. His breathing calm and rhythmic he would be an easy mark Carlos fantasized, if only he had a blade. The bastard would be gone before he knew what hit him.

However the stark reality of it was he possessed no blade, and knew one threatening move would more than likely rouse the sleeping beast. Still the idea had some merit, he mused. Long moments passed before he felt the big man stir, and Carlos knew instinctively that Bennett would be in no hurry to rise this day. Most certainly taking his pleasure with him again, subjugating him to his every will. Knowing that tonight he must depart forgoing his desire for a time in command of his reconnaissance force.

Carlos suffered Bennett's lustful attentions for what seemed like an eternity, with little choice but to comply. He lay there smothered in the furs, mind elsewhere as he had learned to do in all these long years of practice. It flashed into his head suddenly, had my mother felt this way? Until it was finally over and done with, and he could at last have some peace. He felt the cold on his back as Bennett left the bed, and he could see with half closed eyes the great man's silhouette blotting out the early light, filtering now through the open doorway.

Bennett sighed as he took his morning wash, the water's touch chill on his warm skin. He knew in his heart that Carlos would never care for him, there would be no hope of reciprocative love. In the same moment of thought, the cruel, nasty part of him didn't care. What did it matter anyhow? It's not like he has a choice. Sure I miss some things, but I get so many others. With leisure he shaved, peering into the cracked mirror, liking what he saw there. Then he carefully dressed in his full leather and metal regalia, checking his weapons carefully and placing them one by one in his wide belt.

"It's about time you showed a bit of pride in yourself isn't it?" Bennett quipped as he rummaged in a box beneath the table, promptly producing some items of clothing which he threw at the prone form in his bed.

"Wash, shave, and tidy yourself up, understand? Your starting to look no better than those wild children, and don't get any smart ideas with the cut throat, because I expect you to hand it over after your done."

With that he turned and disappeared from Carlos' sight. Carlos inspected the lump of clothing, the first being a red check flannel shirt. It had been a long time since he had had one of these, even if it had few buttons. The second item was a pair of blue denim jeans, less worn, and clean compared to his other pair. So he sat there for a long time, looking at the gifts, and feeling like a whore.

Renard sat stony faced, hanging his long legs over the cold, uninviting rock ledge at the edge of the great cave, staring out into the chill of predawn. No one stirred, a light frost coated the landscape, and he shivered, though more with trepidation than the cold. He had drunk sparingly last night, retiring early to fitful, troubled sleep. Long and sleepless had been the hours, fraught with worry and fear. It was always going to get to this, always. Bennett relentlessly wanting to push further south, and it was getting ever harder to steer this rabid crew away from the beloved valley where he was raised.

From that moment Renard had been found and spared, he had known what he must do. Become a willing sacrifice his price, and duty, to do his bit to keep his family safe, even if it meant that he may never lay eyes on them, or their beautiful valley again. This bloodthirsty bunch would give his people no quarter, it would matter not that he had fought well and given his loyalty to Bennett, or that they were his family. None of it would matter, and his home would fall all too easily to the predation of these wild men. Thus he would have to continue his perilous game, always keeping two steps ahead, and steering them in a different direction to protect his beloved home.

How Renard had wished he could get some word to his dear Father, that he did indeed still live, and hug his wonderful Mother and baby Sister again. How good it would be to ride over those fertile farmlands, to be amongst his friends once more, and to enjoy good food and wine.

Getting away from here on his own was easy enough for a day's hunting, but his parents were many days ride, and there was no possibility he could be gone so long without arousing suspicion. Perhaps there would come a day when he could slip away, and in these violent and dangerous times there was always a possibility he could fake his death. Then perhaps he could rejoin his family for ever more, the life he suffered now fading to no more than a bad dream, instead of this stark, deadly, reality. All these concerns and more crowded into Renard's mind as he looked upon the coming dawn, and he prayed that he had the cunning and fortitude to triumph in this dangerous game.

Unobserved, standing stock still in the blackened doorway of his cabin. Sven was watching, gathering his intelligence. Obviously he wasn't the only soul who had slept badly last night. Indeed there was something very odd about Renard, and sighting him this morning he suspected he was right. Yes, indeed, a word or two of his concerns in Bennett's ear would not go astray.

The sun climbed ever higher on its predestined path, and the day again grew warm. Carlos feeling all the better for his morning ablutions and fresh attire, greeted the new day. With the idea in his head that he had some exploring to do. If that cave of his dream was real, he would find it, and even the wily Selene would not keep him from its discovery. So off he went on his searching quest.

Through the best part of morning and the early afternoon, Carlos searched high and low. Many and varied were the caves that littered the cliff faces of that stony valley. Some were deep and dark, others little more than gouges. Yet he discovered little of interest, except a nest full of small white bird's eggs which he promptly ate. Starting to feel a little foolish he was about to end his search, when he spied an entrance toward the westerly end of the southern rock face. Just this one more he told himself then I will give it up, as he squeezed his broad shoulders into the tight opening to see what lay beyond.

At once the young man noticed that filtered light seemed to emanate from somewhere within, and this piqued his interest. So easing forward into the confined space, he gingerly advanced. Uneven rocks scored at his skin, and the tunnel was terribly confining, but he could see now with clarity that it only went a little way in before widening considerably. Emerging at once into a massive chamber bathed in an eerie light, he was temporarily awestruck. Well, he hadn't found the cave of the dream, but this was certainly a prize, his own special place. He would have to bring Raissa here next time they could get away. Here they would be free to do as they wished without the prying eyes of others. There was no way that Bennett or any of his larger men would even be able to enter this place. Here would be his sanctuary, a place to dream, to plot, and plan.

Carlos stayed there for a long while absorbing this magnificent cavern with an almost reverential awe. Carefully exploring its every niche and secret place, though nothing of consequence did he find. Finally laying down on his back to gaze up into the lofty heights of this natural rocky cathedral.

The hot, hazy afternoon slipped slowly by, thankfully though for Warren the day was not extreme, with a light pleasant breeze wafting up from the southwest. If yesterday had been his worst nightmare, last night had been little better. For what seemed many long hours he had waited for the promised help to come. All the while beginning to regret his conversation with that wild looking young man. The idea had begun to dawn on him that quite possibly the lad had lied, because even though Warren's sight was dependent on his glasses he could judge well enough, that that lad had surely been no slave. He was more than likely one of them, sent purely to further his psychological torture.

He cursed himself and his weakness in the face of suffering for he was no longer sure of anything anymore. Rapidly with the onset of darkness the cold had made its claim on him, and he was full of certainty he would not last the night. Curling his pain wracked body into a tight ball, blowing his breath into freezing hands, anything in the vain effort to stay warm. Shivering violently, sometimes whimpering in pain, dropping in and out of consciousness.

Sometime, much later Warren suddenly came to. Soft warm hands were on him, tending to his wounds, and he was naked he realized with a start. At first he did not know if it be friend or foe, and primal instinct took control, as he lashed out blindly screaming and clawing in pure fear. His attack though was ineffectual and soon it occurred to him through groggy senses that he had been moved, and was now lying on a makeshift bed of old animal hides in an empty shipping container. Presumably the one he had been deposited by earlier.

A woman knelt close by him of that he was certain, though it was black as pitch in here and he could make out little, except the open end of the enclosing walls beyond. "Shush settle down, you'll be all right. I'm not here to hurt you. Just lie still, make my job easier, okay?" Came her comforting words out of the dark as she held his flailing arms. Warren felt as weak as a small child, and sank back down into the furs exhausted, letting her do what she wished without further protest. Relief overtook him then and he suffered willingly her gentle ministrations. With expert hands she explored his aching wounds, cleaning and dressing them, even in the darkness. It was evident that she had performed this duty many times before.

Finally the unknown woman finished her work, making Warren as comfortable as the situation would allow, offering him food and drink. He ate what little he could stomach of the tepid stew, took a few sips of the cool water, and lay back down on the hides. He felt the warmth and softness of the fur against his nakedness, the dull throb of pain behind his newly bandaged knee, and stinging in his back. Before he could utter those words of thanks, he had drifted off into dreamless sleep.

Warren had since lain unmoving for many hours, only stirring to flick back the sweltering hides later on sometime the next morning, and to take a drink. Now though he was wide awake, it was afternoon, his weary and hurting body making the inescapable demand that he relieve himself. Slowly, so slowly Warren crawled from his bed, every movement inciting a new and terrible wave of pain. Groping about blindly, cursing his bad vision he located his trousers and eased them on. The shirt was just too challenging, and he had to give up, already panting with exertion and feeling nauseous and faint.

Renewing his resolve after a short rest to gather his remaining strength Warren made his way toward the brightness beyond. The light made his eyes water with its harsh unyielding glare, and he realized that this would be about as far has he could go this day. After relieving himself, and not a moment too soon he thought. Warren spent the remainder of the afternoon sitting at the open end of his substandard accommodation trying to come to grips with all that had happened. All his friends were dead, all the running, hiding and trying to survive had been for naught. Was there no way to insulate himself from this new and terrifying world?

He was afraid, not really sure of living up to his rash promise to these desperate men devoid of morals. He had blatantly lied about what he was capable of. What if they called him to task? Could he call their bluff? Would they soon deduce that he was not all he had claimed? So he sat there hurting, quietly panicking, his confidence plummeting with every new imagined scenario. So caught up in this reverie of self doubt and fear, he had failed to notice that he was being approached. "Shit!....."he exclaimed in surprise, pulling away as quickly as his battered body would allow. Waiting in his blurred uncertain world, for whatever was to come.

"Sorry......here." A familiar voice responded. With this last remark he felt the familiar shape of his glasses being pressed into shaking hands, and with great relief he put them on, the world suddenly coming into stark focus for the first time in many days. So good to see again, Warren thanking his lucky stars that his glasses had at least survived unscathed.

"Thank you very much." Warren replied thickly, feeling as though he could cry. So great was his sense of relief at that moment. Looking up for the first time to see clearly who this person was. The sight that greeted him however disturbed him. For the young man standing tall and proud above had indeed the savage, untamed look of a warrior.

Odd though he seemed very unscarred for one whose stock in trade was war. Long jet black hair framed his handsome face, reaching far down, nearly to his waist, and his quick dark eyes burned fiercely, missing nothing. The sun tanned body was lean and athletic, and Warren felt inadequate, pathetic and dowdy, beside this man. That very same uncomfortable feeling he had always had at school, when faced with the more physical of his peers.

With fluid motion the young man sat down on the sandy earth so Warren could observe him better. So intense was his gaze Warren didn't quite know what to say. Adding lamely. "I'd be stuffed without these you know." For a long time both men were silent, sitting, each assessing the other. Carlos finally breaking the awkward silence.

"Why did they let you live?" Renewed caution and fear sprang up at Warren then, closing its teeth about him like a cruel steel trap. He knew it, this was some kind of test to see if what he had boasted of was true. He must go carefully here. Choose his next words with care, or not answer at all perhaps. Panic was boiling up inside him.

"You know the answer to that one already?" Was all that came forth. At this there was a protracted, uncomfortable silence.

"You don't trust me." Carlos replied, hurt accusation in his response. "You don't believe me, do you? You think I'm one of them don't you?" Feeling cornered Warren did not know what to say, he had never been very good at the art of conversation. Preferring instead to spend long hours engaged in studious pursuits, where he could be alone. Now all he wished was that he could back away from this fierce looking man, and talk no further.

The tension was suddenly broken with the sound of approaching footsteps, as Lucy came into view. She was heading toward them with a sense of purpose, carrying a tray of food. Both men took the moment, and let the tense situation slide watching her approach. "Well, up and about all ready, and looking better too." She smiled cheerfully as she set the food down next to Warren. "Let's just take a peek and see how things are healing, shall we?" Warren had noticed also that Carlos had wasted no time, already on his feet, backing off a short distance, waiting to one side.

My! She seemed rougher than last night. Warren winced, as Lucy's dirty nailed hands appraised his every wound, bringing forth yet another fresh round of pain. After this cruel inspection the woman seemed satisfied, and bid him to eat what she had brought. Most astonishingly though as she was about to turn and leave she walked over to confront Carlos and spat in his face. "You lazy good for nothing! What good are you?" She viciously accused. "Think you can just sit about all day and look pretty, while we work our guts out in this heat!" Warren saw Carlos tense with anger, waiting with bated breath for the reprisal that he was sure Lucy would receive at any moment. Then just as suddenly Lucy turned smartly on her heel, flashing the confounded Warren a quick smile and adding. "Get some rest, eat up, and I'll see you in the morning." With that she was gone.

Carlos brimmed with barely suppressed ire, as he balefully watched Lucy's retreating back. He never once had found reason to strike a woman, though he was sorely tempted at this moment. Humiliated he turned away, seeking the solitude of his cabin. Where at least with Bennett leaving, he would be left alone. Bitter with the thought that always he would be an outsider in this place, where even the lowliest slave viewed him with contempt.

Warren watched him swiftly depart, all at once feeling contrition that he had not believed. Still though caution would be the wisest course, time would surely unravel more of the truths of this place. Then he could make a better informed decision, about just how to continue, and who to trust. For now though food beckoned, and he was quite surprised at just how hungry he was. I must be on the mend came the first optimistic thought he had had for many a day. Soon, real soon he believed with all conviction he would again be up and about.

The sun dimmed in the west, bringing with it the promise of another cool twilight. The men were ready, as was their leader to venture forth. Bennett had left his last minute instructions with Sven, confident in the knowledge that his second in command would keep order in his absence. As leader he knew it was his duty to head this vital expedition. However his main intent remained unknown to the nine who had accompanied him, that was to ensure that his warriors eagerness did not spoil the potential of their prize.

As the party began their journey from the valley, Bennett paused as he reached its western most end. Surveying his little kingdom one last time, as if to take a tiny piece of what he had forged, etched forever in his mind with him on this day. Then turning to look no more, running on, after his men.

The journey would likely take many days. Since the demise of the vehicles, all travel had to be undertaken on foot. The environment here was too harsh to support beasts of burden, besides most such creatures years back had ended up in the pot. Progress this time of year could only be made by night, with the party resting up most of the day under what scant shelter they could find. The first part of the trek would be the easiest as they had traversed this barren ground many times before. Familiarity made the passage of miles much easier, knowing where hunt, and where to shelter and gather safe water.

The ruby dusk had given way to a completely still, and starlit night, the moon would rise very soon, giving ample light for travel. As the small party jogged in relative silence, making good time across the shifting dunes. With each man engaged in his own private thoughts. Bennett was no exception to this. In fact his mind was extremely crowded with all manner of concerns as he ran with his men. It was of most interest to him that Sven's doubts over Renard mirrored his own. He had always judged his second to be every bit as watchful and astute as he was, the two often sensing the same things, and it indeed did seem that they had both become suspicious of Renard. He would watch the man very carefully from now on, that was certain.

Carlos sat somewhat dejected in the open battered, doorway of the cabin, staring out at the campsite and the rough hewn valley slopes. A sleepy sense of quiet had descended over the camp as evenings sometimes bring, and the faint smell of wood smoke permeated the air.

His keen vision spotted movement in the distance, picking up at once the war party already at the far end of the valley. Noting that one small, far away figure paused for a moment, looking back, then just as suddenly turned and disappeared from view. The young man felt edgy and upset tonight, and though he hated to admit it, he knew one of the reasons for this feeling was that Bennett had departed. Whether Carlos liked it or not Bennett was his protector and there was always the chance that the remaining warriors might make sport of him in their leader's absence. So he would have to be on his constant guard until the party's return, not entirely certain that Sven would even bother to keep him safe. It had become quite obvious to him that Sven would like nothing more than to see him eliminated.