Maya
The days were drawing out and the weather was growing warm, the frosty nights were now gone giving way to mild balmy ones, the relentless barrage of summer fast on the heels of the short spring. The precious corn and the squash had been sown and were just beginning to break the soil, presenting from the vivid orange sand in neat rows of vibrant green.
Marcus and Father Andrew now also accompanied by Nathan had their work cut out to ensure the valuable crops survival. With weeding, watering, and pest control a high priority, if these crops were to fail, they would all be forced to survive on meat alone.
Aran, Bennett, Will, Gareth and lastly Dwayne had spent the afternoon preparing to move out. Sven had elected to stay behind and rule in Bennett's stead, a wise decision after the last misappropriation of the stores. The five man party had decided to scout a possible small settlement to the west within an easy two days ride. Many of the warriors who were to remain behind had been eager to go as well and felt great disappointment, only those who had mastered riding and using weapons proficiently from horseback were chosen. This small foray had to count, to fail this time would mean intolerable hardship they may never rise from.
Raissa watched the men depart, the horses and mules gingerly picking their way along the treacherous incline. Aran in the lead on the spirited gray mare, she was tossing her head wildly wanting to run. Bennett just behind him heavily armed on the large hunter, followed by Gareth on Renard's mount, and Dwayne and Will relegated to the mules. She sighed and commenced to fill the water vessels, her work never done, happy at least she would be spared a few evenings of Aran's unwanted attentions.
*****
The men rode in silence across the sparse sands tracking to the northwest, each man's thoughts his own. Aran was very vigilant, constantly scanning the horizon, fighting against his fretting mare who desired free reign. They rode this way through the remainder of the afternoon the spectacular finale of the setting sun fiery red in their eyes.
The party reached the hidden haven of the oasis just before midnight, emerging from the narrow canyon into a hidden cradle of lush life. They carried plenty of rations so there was no need to hunt, setting up camp quickly and freeing the horses, letting them drink and graze in the fertile clearing.
They could have indulged in a fire without detection, but it was late and the warmth of the day still lingered in this cloistered hollow. The moon hung in the sky far overhead, a gleaming silver disk on a bed of black velvet. Crickets and frogs chirped, the breeze stirred the leaves on the evergreens in a collective sigh. The heady scent of honey from the blossoms hung in the night air. To this magical night music the men slept deeply until the first rays of dawn.
The birds woke them in a crescendo of sound, even if this place was hidden from most humans, like a rare jewel the feathered hordes knew its exact location, swarming to the cold deep pool every dawn and dusk. The men broke camp each checking their weapons one last time, and left the sanctity of the oasis for the desert above. The raiders pushed west.
The day was uncharacteristically warm for this early in spring and they found they had to go easy on the horses, the mules fared better. At midday there came into plain view the unmistakable wisps of smoke curling lazily skyward.
The men circling closer mindful to stay downwind on the off chance there may be dogs about. The topography of the area favored their approach with a tract of tough mallee scrub where they could conceal themselves on the south side of the rudimentary settlement. The men dismounted risking the horses may be spotted or worse stolen, but with only five in their force they did not have the luxury of a warrior to spare.
The remainder of the day was spent in silent observation of their quarry. There was a collection of mean little dwellings built in a circular arrangement obviously about a central well. These rough huts were made mostly of salvage, old corrugated iron, and whatever else could be found and implemented for the purpose.
There were numerous young children playing in the dust outside, a few women and men, and no elderly occupants they could see. There appeared to be a couple of haggard chestnut horses, heads down, occasionally shaking the biting flies from their dowdy coats, some chickens, and a few straggling cattle, but naught else of worth could they determine. The men did not expect much from this but sport and some moderate prizes, but the idea they were on the hunt again quickened their blood.
*****
They waited patiently until late at night before making their strike, crossing the hard packed earth silently, to hide in the shadows of the shoddy huts. The occupants were asleep and nothing stirred, the encampment so poor there was not even a single dog to stand guard.
The desert night was far from dark with the high waning moon lighting the compound, this would not have been traditionally the ideal night for this endeavor. Aran could hear the unmistakable sound of steel sliding over well oiled leather spotting Bennett loosing his machete from its scabbard, his own dagger followed suit. Recalling again as he had many times the sword of his strange dream, and setting for the reality of his sturdy poignard with an almost inaudible sigh. A cow lowed and all the men stiffened in the shadows, then on Bennett's signal all hell erupted.
The entire compound exploded in a sea of confusion, many did not escape from the huts, slain where they slept. Each warrior had entered one of the ramshackle houses slaughtering the majority of its occupants with ruthless efficiency, man, woman, and child; none were spared the blade.
Aran's assignment did not go so well. The door was not locked and opened soundlessly inward, dying embers in the hearth, the room was warm, smelling of smoke, cooking, and humanity. The warrior with little time to pick his mark in the blackness.
Through the small window the shafts of wan light streaked in illuminating the sleeping woman's hair as it cascaded like a silver river over the bed covers. Aran lunged forward like a lion sharp blade puncturing her soft throat. The woman screamed in her death throes alerting her sleeping husband long before Aran could silence her. The adult male slipping past him and rounding on him with a pitch fork.
Cursing his selection of a dagger, Aran felt the implement rake his chest and decided it would be far better to lure the man outside into the light than battle him in the familiarity of his own home. The man sensing this was attempting to stop the invader from reaching his goal, getting in between his assailant and the open doorway.
For a simple farmer this man could fight extraordinarily well. Aran having to use all his effort to stop from being impaled with the fork, finding it impossible to breach the man's guard to get anywhere near him with the knife. This was fast becoming a desperate battle, the man was as large and as strong as Aran was, and clearly not going to go down easily if at all. The young warrior began casting about in the gloom for any object he might use to halt his attacker, it was essential he got past him to the door. The tines of the fork too close to his face for comfort, the man relentless in his attack.
However Aran was swifter, and he seized his chance spraying the man with the dying coals from a half burnt log in the fireplace. The man yelled, lost his momentum and Aran crouched and rolled clean by him out into the light. A gun shot rang out clearly above the confusion and slaughter, followed by more, they were already cleaning up fleeing survivors.
Aran with the man pursuing him possessed of all the fury of a demon, was desperately embattled. He tried to get under the farmer's weapon to disembowel him, feeling the hot pain of his error, the forks' tines passing down the length of his back.
In that terrible second Aran knew he had made an awful mistake, and braced himself to feel the force of the steel implement pierce his heart through from behind. He would die, face to the earth never to lay eyes on his victorious opponent. There was a loud shot from somewhere close by and the next thing he was aware of was the fork clattering to the ground and the thud of a heavy body hitting dirt, followed by cynical laughter. Bennett stood tall above him,.45 in hand.
"Now we are even." Was all he said, as he turned to finish off the last of the survivors.
Aran regained his composure dusting himself off, it had been a long time since he had fought one who had given him such a close fight. He put a boot into the large man's side rolling him over that he might see this stranger better who had come so very close to besting him.
He was not ready when a small form shot from the doorway of the now burning hut shrouded in a dark hooded cape, to bury its face in the deceased man's chest sobbing wildly. The hood fell away to reveal a mop of long light blond hair, bright in the moonlight. Aran fingered his knife and hearing boots on gravel looked up to see Bennett advancing on the small survivor.45 drawn.
"NO!" Said Aran positioning himself in the firing line of the pistol. Bennett sniggered and tucked the snub nosed weapon into his belt walking away.
The sounds of the massacre had died, the cold stars looking down on this deed as they had watched since time immemorial with neither compassion or accusation. The man's whelp Aran mused, he hated killing children but it was for the best as he had already murdered its parents, it would only die, it was the most merciful thing to do.
Bending down to grasp the small individuals cape, there was a gasp of fear and more incoherent crying as he hauled the diminutive form to its feet that he might see it better before he put it out of its misery. The oversized cloak fell away, and to Aran's surprise and delight he beheld a petite young woman. She shook in his grasp but did not fight him seemingly resigned to her fate.
Her appealing heart shaped face was stained with tears, framed in long straight hair. She looked at him with large gray eyes part filled with fear and awe, skin white and unspoiled by the desert. Aran ran his hands over her tiny breasts his gold rings cold on her hot flesh, she stood confused and still, quietly sobbing, eyes returning to the dead man on the ground.
The blond warrior crouched down before her his hands on both sides of her face forcing the girl to look at him, and he looked long at her, from somewhere he heard Dwayne laugh and Will telling him to shut it. The two men were making a fire in the center of the village so they might wait until dawn to thoroughly ransack the place. Gareth and Bennett had gone to procure the horses.
