Avarice Desperation Valley Ch 35

The first 2 chapters in book 2, one was very short so I put them together. The second book Avarice Blacksteel is complete and queued for publication. Although the Avarice series spans multiple books. I deemed it best due to how this website operates, to keep adding each consecutive chapter to the series here, I felt it would confuse the reader less. Enjoy.

Prologue

Most of us long to "Be" but when the path gets too costly, or steep, we take solace in what we "Have." Remove the trappings of what we own and then what is the sum of us?

They were the survivors, abandoned by the allies who swore to protect, in the ultimate gesture of greed and betrayal. Their world plunged into annihilation and chaos. With the passage of years in this blighted landscape order was established anew. Those who had been anonymous before the war found their will to rule, those who had experienced the comforts and ease of western life, thrust into darkness and despair.

This brutal conflict had awoken those long sleeping, those who had ceased to care, those of immense power, the ones entrusted with the safe keeping of the often volatile mankind. Although their parallel world too was at risk, lethargy and arrogance ruled them.

Against the backdrop of this savage landscape the saga of three such tribes of survivors unfold, and the unwitting chosen among them. One tribe sought to prosper via savagery, one by organized military might, and the other who ruled with no more than fairness and love. Three tribes thrown together, competing for the limited resources to survive, in a world teetering on the brink of total decimation. Driven by human avarice.

*****

The Prophecy

'The unending oceans shall continue to rise, until the first leaf of Nethrizil graces the earth. The unassailable shall witness another hue come to pass, and those beautiful, straight and true will be bowed in a mantle of white.'

He closed the heavy volume with a resounding thud in the large empty room, setting it back down on the expansive basalt table. He had read, and reread this passage many times, puzzling over its contents. The prophecy; what did it mean, what did it truly portend?

Xonereth sighed, his heart uncharacteristically heavy, immortal as he was he knew little care, but recently he had begun to feel much different. Were these feelings akin to how the humans could feel, the proud ruler fleetingly wondered? This seemed a traitorous thought. He was Regent here, power absolute. The humans with their meaningless and fragile lives should cause him little more concern than a crawling insect. He could not allow himself time to peruse this folly, and yet the past few days the humans and their doings had done nothing but fill his mind.

He rose exuding lithe flowing grace, departing the chamber, heavy robes trailing on the shining stone behind him. The vestibule was long and dark. Only the hard, shining stone to surround him, the hiss of midnight robes gliding over the polished stone. The winged watchers sat on high, stone or living things? Black as the basalt that housed their squatting forms, all claws and wings, evil, leering beasts. Only their gleaming eyes betrayed their supernatural reality. Xonereth did not heed them, nor turn as their wings rustled collectively as he passed by.

They were all assembled in the main chamber, the place where his scintillating and charismatic court would choose to gather, the lilting melodious laughter of the many Princesses, and the handsome conversation of the Princes to surround him. Beautiful though they were they parted in silent reverence as Xonereth entered and crossed the floor to alight his throne. Here he would come, not to hear petitioners for there were indeed very few of those, but to just watch the ebb and flow of his people. However this particular day he could find little solace in the beauty and joy of his court.

Since that day he and the beautiful Sheharizade had shared their messenger's forbidding news; as they stood on the colonnade beneath the palatial walls of his domain, Xonereth had been most troubled. He had not deigned to share his damning knowledge with his people at large, only confiding in his closest advisors.

Often he would make the pilgrimage alone to the great tree of Nethrizil, a relic as old if not older than his entire world. There it stood alone on the hilltop, great boughs of spreading black foliage garnering its twisted branches atop the behemoth trunk.

Xonereth had stood here many times before this artifact of ageless mystery, in his own countless years of never ending immortality. Nethrizil a constant, in a constant world, it had always looked the same to him, and today it appeared no different. The haunting words of the prophecy ran over and over in his mind, he could find no meaning in them. For not one leaf of the great tree graced the ground below. The cornerstone of their world intact. Yet the oceans of his world had risen markedly so. The first line of the dreaded prophecy had been made truth.

*****

Aurianne

Carlos lay in his Master's furs as the fire burned low in the hearth, Raissa must have woken him from his fitful slumber as she dutifully fed the low burning embers in the early hours of dawn. Bennett's warm bulk was at his back, he still sometimes shuddered when the hateful man touched him, but he had no desire to wear the hood or have his free movement taken away for weeks on end again.

Carlos hated himself wholeheartedly for letting his nemesis finally win against his will, but the years of captivity had worn him down. Suddenly it was easier to comply than fight that which he now reasoned he could not win against.

The warriors had planned to leave this day on their last raid, there would be no further forays until the weather abated, and by what Sven had described, this could be a very long time. Carlos had never applied himself to his schooling, he had spent more time squandering his days in the game arcades and on the beaches, looking at girls, smoking, and hanging with his mates. So he really had no well formed idea of what Sven had been speaking about, as he was sure most here did not. Still the man had been a soldier, he had to know more about war than most, he was not buying the God stuff like some here did. This was a disaster of man's own making for sure.

Bennett stirred, bringing Carlos back from the landscape of his misspent childhood abruptly. The big man stretched and ran his rough hand along the length of Carlos' side to his thigh. Fortunately in this public setting Bennett did not flaunt his homosexuality openly, and he had partaken of his carnal desires with his captive but rarely and fleetingly.

Carlos felt the cold length of chain being passed around his throat, the padlock clicked shut. He remain this way fastened to that immovable boulder just as Renard and Nathan were until his Master returned. He had not even given the thought of escape any place in his mind this time. Where would he run to? There was nowhere to run. He would go on living this half life, until he could live no more.

In less than half an hour the camp's occupants had all stirred, each warrior making ready to leave. The fire was blazing now, the flames licking high, charring the white stone of the overhanging ceiling. The women prepared and served the food, the cold was already taking its toll on two of the three of Frances' attendants Sarah and Kate, both looked deathly pale and had chronic coughs. Carlos still had the remains of one as well, it was hard to shake, and for the first time in his young life he felt mortal.

The weather was bleak, but at least there was no wind, not a break in the clouds anywhere or a hint of sun's radiance. Sven walked towards the horses, they were huddled in a tight circle in the lee side of the valley seeking all the warmth possible. He located Renard's Gelding and began to saddle him, his cold fingers fumbling with the buckles and clasps. Wondering how his Nordic ancestors ever lived in this climate. He was not alone with his thoughts for long, the others too reluctantly leaving the warmth of the cave to saddle their mounts as well.

*****

Thirteen men left the valley that morning, only Raissa and Maya braved the cold to say goodbye, for the first time this camp was left in the hands of only slaves. No easy decision, but the settlement they had marked for destruction was large and would require all the warriors to prove a success. To fail was not an option.

Stark reminders of the deadly weather appeared at every turn. The party did not even have to leave the valley to view the first one; the two feral boys were frozen solid beneath a rock ledge, their lifeless flesh turned a ghastly pallid gray. With no access to fire they had both succumbed swiftly to the elements. No one would miss them or mourn their loss, they meant little more than scavenging vermin to the warriors here. Aran found himself idly wondering if the wild girl had gone the same way, he had not seen her since the night he had burnt his hand in the fire. His guess was that she had.

Renard watched the men leave and could not believe his good fortune, not one warrior left on guard. Not even Pig, that man had not left the valley on a raid in years. The only souls that remained behind were all prisoners or slaves. Carlos and Nathan both chained as he was, Frances' three serving women, his lovely Lissa amongst them, Warren, Lucy, Raissa and her baby, lastly Aran's new woman Maya.

There were so many things that he had witnessed here both as a free man and a captive, that to Renard were just wrong. He longed to be gone from this place and rejoin his father's civilization and its niceties. Now he had limited time, perhaps no more than five days to attempt to talk them around, or at very least gain his own freedom.

Raissa seemed the logical place to start, she was friendly and open to him, and Renard wasted no time as she brought his much welcomed food. He smiled up at her, putting on his best display of friendliness. The young woman responded in kind, just as he had hoped.

"I'm sorry about Father Andrew." Renard offered with sincerity.

"Yes, me too." Raissa answered. "He was a good man. I will miss him, and Marcus too."

"Yes, I'm sure you will." Renard added trying to find the tact to lead into what he really wanted to ask, but he needed to start small. He glanced up at Raissa sideways, the boyish look still was there even underneath the unkempt exterior and the dirt. "There wouldn't happen to be some way I could tidy up would there?" He raised his eyebrow, and his boyish brown eyes held a mischievous gleam.

Raissa rose suddenly and he feared she would leave, and that he had blundered his attempt before he had even begun. However that was not the case.

"Oh how thoughtless of me, I should have thought of it before." Raissa looked flustered and hurried away to bring Renard the makings of a shave and a wash.

He was glad of a shave how long had it been? It had been many months even his shoulder length hair always so neatly cut, was to his mid back, and most unruly. Raissa obligingly cut it for him and helped him trim his beard as well, it was wonderful to at last be free of the dreadful itch.

"That's much better, thank you." Renard remarked as he looked into the cracked mirror at his old tidy self. Raissa just smiled in acknowledgment. Renard sighed, it was pointless hedging around the subject deciding he might as well just ask outright. He swallowed somewhat nervously and he said in no more than a whisper. "Do you know where Bennett keeps the keys?"

Raissa's hand went to her mouth, and she got swiftly to her feet smoothing down her crumpled skirt and hurried away. Renard's eyes searched after her but she did not meet them, pretending not to see him and choosing to be engrossed in her baby for the remainder of the day. He had not won at least this time or had he? The girl in her haste had left the straight blade and the bowl behind, and Renard thanked his lord for simple mercies and pocketed the useful windfall.

*****

It was different without the men in some ways, freer but more frightening. There would be no one capable to defend them if attackers came, that thought was on everyone's mind. That night all the occupants sat close to the crackling fire, they were free to speak as they wished and for a long time no one knew what to say.

Carlos ate until he was uncomfortably full, ashamed at his close cropped hair, the blanket over his head in an attempt to hide what everyone already knew.

Nathan sat on his own bundled in the oversized coat. He really did not communicate or seek the company of others, and most found him equally unpleasant to be near, it did not help he could not speak his contorted mind.

Lucy and Warren were as always affectionate and cheerful, they sat close, a blanket over both their shoulder's sharing their banter and warmth. Raissa and Maya and the other three women were with them, and Renard sat alone and pondered how he was going to make his escape?

*****

The men rode hard all day. There was no letting up on the pace. They could afford little time out in the elements unprotected. This would be the one last raid before they moved the horses to the oasis in the vain hope of saving them. The animals would not last much longer. The diet of twigs and sparse leaves had left them looking poorly, coats lusterless, frames gaunt.

All felt the undercurrent of unspoken fear, even the bravest souls. The twilight of the days no longer allowing any greenery to grow, and the severe cold destroying any that did exist, sheathing everything in black ice. The snow had subsided, leaving a dark world of frost, a world with no change but from twilight to darkness, it was as though mother nature herself had been broken, and abandoned the planet to other more sinister forces.

This would be their most ambitious raid yet. Aran had spotted this settlement months before, and had watched it carefully from afar on many occasions. All felt it too large to chance an attack until they had reached full strength. With the advance of the cold it had to be now or never.

Fortunately it was well within a day's ride to the southwest, screened by trees to three sides with a small eroded creek bed on the other. They reached their destination without incident well before the dark drew in. Deciding to stay for a time in the circle of warm horses on the far side of the trees until they were almost ready to move. It was the best strategy they knew of to evade the intense cold; intending to approach from the most heavily wooded side once the occupants were asleep.

*****

Selecting the strongest horse, Bennett had gone on ahead to advance scout the settlement. He hunched down against a bank of accumulated snow using the time and failing daylight to fully assess his quarry. There were ten ramshackle homes in the center of the compound, many of substantial size, and a large two story utilitarian buildings possibly a barn, surrounded by a palisade fence some six feet in height. The wood shaved to points about its top. It served a dual purpose, defense against attackers, and a safe place to corral livestock.

He could sight some of the older children bringing in the animals across the creek, mostly cattle and some sheep for the night. Bennett lowered his body further to the frigid earth, they did not need to see him, it was cold and most uncomfortable, it would take all his effort to wait this out.

There were many people in this place, fifty perhaps? He had counted some ten able bodied men, who would have to be taken out swiftly. Though they had all agreed they would keep one this time as difficult as that might be, to replace Marcus.

Taking a rebellious and vengeful male slave was always a large risk. Still it would be good sport breaking him of his bad habits until he became a placid beast of burden. There would be little else to occupy his time with if what Sven said was true about the weather. The worst news was there were dogs here, and not just one, there were many. Gaining the compound by surprise was going to be tough.

*****

On the verges of darkness the warriors crept through the trees, soundlessly taking up positions all about the perimeter. It would be a bitterly cold wait. The evening settled about them like a black blanket, if only it had been as warm.

Hypothermia was the enemy. Sven blew into his frigid hands, his teeth were chattering and he was afraid someone might hear him, he did not want to be here. He could just make out his brother doing the same, and envied the fur cape his woman had crafted, wishing Raissa had been so handy. He hoped Bennett would give the signal soon.

Aran squatted on stiff knees, he shifted his weight restlessly trying to make minimal noise, his sword arm ached with the cold. He rubbed at it under his cape, learning from his last almost fatal experience he had equipped a machete as well as his trusty poignard this time. The wind was rising, if they did not move soon they would surely freeze, he pulled the furred hood of his cape further over his face and sat out the frigid misery stoic as any elite forces soldier.

Bennett who was closest to the palisade fence strained into the dark, he could hear an animal of some description approaching in the snow. He could just make out in the gloom the rough outline of a large shaggy dog, head down on the scent of something.

Instinctively he flattened his body even closer to the frozen earth to evade detection, wishing he had a bow at his disposal. He glanced across at Gareth he too had seen the animal and was likewise pressed flat to the ground.

The dog ran in wider and wider circles, muzzle to the ground, it's great paws crunching on the ice. It stopped abruptly, sniffing at the snow in a frenzy then raised its head scenting the air, they had been spotted. The wolfhound stood motionless before emitting a booming bark followed by a strangled yelp as Dwayne's arrow pierced it clean through. No one moved or barely breathed, all eyes on the fence and the dead hound, the arrow shaft protruding from it in a tell tale giveaway of foul play.

The fur clad man opened the rough hewn gate and stepped cautiously outside the compound's bounds, flaming torch in hand.

"What is it boy?" He called to the dark of the forest a twinge of uncertainty evident in his voice, the torch guttered in the strong wind and almost went out, the denuded trees rasped against one another in an eerie scream.

This is not what Bennett had hoped for, the village was far from asleep but they would have to move now. He loosed his twin machete's from their scabbards and rose from cover, his men catching this followed suit.

"You there boy?"

The man called again, hearing a twig break in the forest close by, waving the torch further into the black. He jumped as he was greeted with the sight of Bennett and his iron blades, they cut though his neck decapitating him almost instantly, his headless body fell to the earth with a dull thud.

The warriors poured into the almost deserted compound. The press of milling animals making progress difficult and targets hard to hit. Dwayne shot a man carrying an armful of fire wood before he could shout a warning, but another man who had been relieving himself in the shadows raised the alarm before he could be silenced. The warriors spread out, making for hard targets, heading to the individual houses.

By now the settlement was aware of the intruders, and the race was on to gain the residences and finish the strong within them swiftly before they could rally any mode of organized defense.

Thirteen men against fifty souls left little room for error, but they were experienced at this type of warfare. Every warrior had clear orders, eliminate all threats, spare interesting or valuable captives, and try if possible to not burn any structure before its contents could be ransacked.