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.
