Avarice Secret Unquiet Ch 15

Wrath

The dry stacked, stone walls tinged with moss bordered the pastures below. Carlos sat on one of these walls watching the cattle and sheep graze. The new calves and lambs were suckling at their mother's tit with gusto, tails waggling. The verdant grass was coming through lushly, promising a bountiful spring. The setting was idyllic and after enduring a long captivity, the young man should have felt less troubled than he was today.

Yes, his nerves were less on edge, and the rest had done him good. His hosts were fine and generous people. It had been good to gain respite from that awful grind of the continuous, ready wakefulness he had practiced for the past eight years.

So why was he so restless and discontented? There should be no reason for his mood. It was beautiful here he observed as the apple blossoms fell on him like pseudo snowfall, light in the darkness of his hair. He pulled his shining black mane back from his eyes and tied its length into a short ponytail with a strip of leather.

There must be something better beyond

he thought,

somewhere where he could just belong.

His early memories of his city upbringing were still vivid, that was the environment where he had thrived. In the fast-paced, fast-thinking landscape of his childhood, he rued the demise of its conveniences. Strong memories came to him of the Rundle Street East end, the rows of brightly glittering shop windows, the hotels on every corner, and the gelato bar with its hundreds of flavors to sate his childhood appetite. He could almost smell the delicious aromas of food wafting from the myriad of restaurants and food carts, the reflections of the car lights creating bright runnels of the pavement. Captured forever in his mind's eye, Hindley Street in the rain. It was gone, all obliterated in an instant by the allies of all things.

He could not remain here, in the middle of nowhere, with his hunger for city life. He was no farmer destined for this simplicity. To be ruled by what Mother Nature wished to throw at him. He was feeling so much better, he had eaten well these last few days and restored his strength. However, the newly freed slave was still very unsure of what he should do. So he had languished, absorbing the comforts and idly waiting; waiting for a cue that may not come.

Even before the war, the state was over eighty percent desert. The only capital city had been leveled and irradiated so no one could return. Should he head south, back toward the coast, and see if society had attempted to rebuild? It had been the best part of eight years after all. The idea had merit, he was unsure what he may find there, and even more unsure of the journey. It would no doubt be long and perilous.

Alternatively, should he seek revenge on the one he hated more than anything? The one who robbed him of his dignity and life. He had toyed with that scenario in recent days now that he felt stronger. His reviled enemy Wezley Bennett commanded very few men. He would be a far easier target than he had been before. Though Carlos wondered what he would feel if indeed he did run face to face with his nemesis again, a man of his recurring nightmares, a man who had rent his soul.

As his fingers traced the faint line of a scar on his cheek given to him by that tyrant, he realized could in effect never be the same after all he had endured. It had forged him, bent him, perhaps broken him in ways also. He no longer knew what he really wanted, this feeling ate at him, and it would not relent.

Footsteps behind him. Whoever it was, they were making no effort to approach quietly. He half turned to see Renard standing just beyond the wall, dressed in dark brown suede and leather. He was cleanly shaven except for a neat trademark goatee, and his shoulder-length hair neatly trimmed and tied back in a ponytail.

"Beautiful afternoon." Renard commented casually. Observing the beautiful rural visa before him.

Carlos just nodded in assent of the cheery remark, he rarely felt the need to engage in anything but the most minimal of conversations. Perhaps a legacy of his past time as a captive, the less you spoke the better.

"I was wondering?..."

Here it comes,

thought Carlos with a twinge of regret.

"If you would accompany us to rescue the girls?"

Renard did not see the young man grimace at the mention of the mission.

"You are one hell of a fighter, we would be happy to have you along."

Carlos did not reply, his mind was in a terrible conundrum over the request. He must answer carefully, yet he could not frame the words.

"Anyway, if you decide to accompany us we leave tomorrow at first light."

With that Renard walked away, leaving the young man alone with his thoughts.

*****

After the conversation the troubled man had tossed and turned all night, sleep would not come as he wrestled with his demons to make a decision. As the first tendrils of light evoked shadows on the floorboards, and the inhabitants stirred in the house Carlos made his choice. He rose from his bed, dressed, collected his few belongings, and made for the stables.

A tight knot of approximately twenty men assembled all readying their mounts for the journey. On well rested horseback the journey would not be so far. Two, three, days tops. Carlos did not know the majority of the volunteers. Though he had sighted most of the participants during his short respite here. The stables smelled deeply of horses and sweet fresh cut hay, agreeable and comforting to the young man as he made his way through the press of warm horseflesh.

Darius was smiling broadly as he cinched his saddle, the big smith always seemed cheerful. Renard was there in the center of the crush of men and beasts, making sure every man was adequately equipped for the excursion ahead. He turned and smiled as he saw Carlos approach.

"Glad you decided to ride with us." Renard said as he handed Carlos the reigns of a bay gelding who had a white blaze that ran down and under his nose like dripped paint.

Carlos just nodded, noting the fine rife that was stowed in a holster attached to his mounts saddle. He had never used a rifle in his life, he was only familiar with handguns, or a blade. That fact did not matter, twenty well-organized men against the few who remained in that squalid little encampment, it would most certainly be a rout. He was imagining hacking off Bennett's ugly head like the snake he was. He stowed his few possessions in the saddlebag and mounted his horse, waiting for the others to leave.

*****

The day had begun like many preceding it. Sven had no reason to expect any more than the ordinary as he hunted topside for another meal. They were still in possession of a few goats, but the remaining does and the one buck that lived were too valuable to slaughter. The little herd provided a steady supply of milk, and hopefully soon some new kids would be born that may provide an easier meal in lean times.

Currently, easy meat was hard to come by, and Sven had to spend a lot more time than he liked hunting in the dunes above the encampment. Sometimes he bagged a stray bird or a rabbit, if he got lucky a kangaroo or an emu, and some days there was nothing about to catch at all. They had begun to rely heavily on the remaining corn stores, if they were not careful there would not be enough seed to sow the new crop.

Sven had no idea why he chose to look up at that exact moment, but far away on the horizon, he detected movement. He thought he had sighted a bird initially, keen senses ever alert for prey. His constant gnawing hunger had seen to that. Sven held his hand up to shield his eyes to better see distance, however, he realized with a start what he was seeing were many riders approaching the valley at a fast canter. They were still very distant, mere specks on the horizon, but he knew at the pace they were moving he had little time. Those riders would be here well before dusk.

He bolted for the valley, the hunt completely forgotten. Raissa looked up as the big man came barreling into the midst of the women who were quietly working on various domestic tasks.

"Get anything important quickly, we must hide!"

The women looked up, unmoving at first. Confused silence reigned. All eyes were on the sweating Sven, his chest heaving with the exertion of his pace.

"NOW! MOVE!" He shouted pulling the women from their inaction.

Raissa's heart heaved in her breast as she hastily took up young Eirik, who had been sleeping soundly, close by. The boy began to fuss and cry at the sudden change in his circumstances.

"Quiet him!" The warrior countered sharply.

Sven would not be this panicked on a whim, Raissa realized, there was a threat, a real threat. The young woman's mind felt muddled as she tried to decide if there was anything of value she must rescue. Too late, as Sven's large hand alighted on the strap of her dress and he was herding her before him. The other women were moving too now. Maya ran like a deer in the lead, her pale hair flowing behind her. The panicked demeanor of the great man had spooked them all.

Lissa was unsure what to think, but she dutifully helped her friends toward the designated hiding place that Sven had indicated. A dark cave obscured by the dump and tightly woven thorn bushes.

She watched the big man break from the small group of fleeing women and head into the shipping container, and reappear carrying an abundance of weaponry and ammunition.

He would make a last stand then, she registered. Her mind was afire with all the possibilities as she helped the ailing Sarah and Kate into the protective darkness that loomed before her. If they were discovered they would most certainly be trapped in here she thought, and she tried hard to push down her rising panic. There would be no easy exit from this place. Lissa felt sick with the fear. It was like a terrible dream, the kind you have to wake from and order it to stop. But this was no dream, just an awful reality.

The women crouched down toward the rear of the cave, with no other sound but ragged breathing and a fussing child in the lightless space. The air was slightly humid and smelled of damp earth. The ceiling was low and they could not stand. Darkness as black as pitch to their backs, and the cool air fanned up from the subterranean depths and the dark unknown beyond.

Eirik had calmed some, Raissa shushing and rocking her son so that he may feel reassured. The infant though could sense the fear and uncertainty about him and refused to be placated.

Sven made the entrance of the overhang forcing his bulk between the thorny sentinels, they scraped and scratched leaving in their wake stripes of sanguine on his flesh. He set his cache of weapons down with a loud metallic thunk on the stone, and began loading them with ammunition.

Lissa decided that if these invaders were going to try and kill them, she would not die herself without a fight. Alternatively, if they were the rescue party she had hoped for, then it would behoove her to be up the front. So she could at the very worst arrange some kind of surrender on Sven's behalf. She was sure that he would be shot otherwise. She was not going to be responsible for Eirik becoming an orphan. It was critical she got this right.

Lissa made her way forward to kneel beside Sven, to see if she could be of some assistance. Afraid he may yet command her to return to the rest of the frightened women. Sven looked at her quizzically as she approached him at the front of the cave. She was a farmer's daughter, and she knew enough about firearms to be useful.

All of their lives now hung in the balance. Sven deciding wordlessly that the woman's help was valid handed her a double-barreled shotgun. Calculating in his mind that the woman would probably lose her cool and her aim would be terrible. He tossed her some twelve gauge cartridges and hoped she could reload swiftly. He loaded the bolt action 303's and set them before him, with more cartridges at the ready. Bennett had taken the choicest weapons with him, Sven wishing he possessed some grenades. These old and battered rifles would have to suffice unfortunately.

Lissa did not hesitate, she scooped up the cartridges pressing them in her hand to be sure they were not perished, and loaded the shotgun. Sven side-eyed her, expecting her to fumble. He was reassured to see she did not do so. That accomplished Sven turned to his charges.

"I know we have no light but can you Maya see if the cave behind is is safe, be careful."

Maya squirmed at the order, she did not much like the suggestion she should crawl back into the blackness with the spiders and other nameless bugs, but she realized this was important, and to survive she must do her part. Unfortunately, the entrance behind them tapered off swiftly to become impassable. Maya was happy she did not have to crawl too far before she realized this; but doubly afraid with the knowledge that they would be well and truly cornered if they were discovered.

Maya reported this to Sven in a whisper, and he nodded, his expression grim. His gray eyes fixated before him on the compound they called home. He knew that whoever came here would easily realize that the occupants could not be too far away. The cooking fire was still burning, the stray plume of wood smoke drifted lazily on an almost non existent breeze.

It was not in the warrior's nature to hide like a coward, and it sat badly with him. Yet he realized the men approaching numbered many, and he had been given no time to possibly even the odds by placing traps for the unsuspecting invaders. He hoped that they merely passed on by, and come nightfall they would be safe in the knowledge the intruders did not have this site as their destination. It was a well-hidden encampment after all.

The experienced soldier was not going to throw his life away needlessly, in doing so he would doom his family to possible slavery or worse. Today was not the time to be a hero he ruminated, yet he desired to be.

They crouched on cramping knees for what seemed like an unendurable time. Nothing to be heard but the slight breeze rustling the bushes, the busy chatter of house sparrows, and the far-off caw of a sorrowful crow. Then suddenly the sound of a stray pebble falling from great height above.

Lissa took a sharp intake of breath and felt the pace of her heart lurch, the blood pounding in her temples. The knuckles on her hands had turned white as she gripped the stock of the shotgun too tightly. The redhead took a deep breath to try and tame her rising panic. She suddenly felt nausea grip her insides. She shot a quick glance across at Sven, he was unmoving as a statue. Rifle poised in his huge hands, storm colored eyes trained down the barrel. Lissa wished she had the same composure and fleetingly wondered if he was afraid just like she was?

It was not long before they witnessed a tight group of men cautiously inspecting the encampment. The sun was beginning its descent to the west, and the shadows in the valley were long and dark. Visibility was failing fast, the evening always came early to this well hidden gouge in the earth.

Sven scanned the large group, they were all well-armed. He felt now it had been the correct decision to hide. He could not discern any familiar faces, as they split up into groups to more thoroughly search the site.

"Fuck!" Sven muttered under his breath as the first recognition dawned. He spied Carlos between the shipping containers that housed the ammunition and the stores. He sighted his rifle, and his finger twitched almost imperceptibly on the trigger. He was however never going to take the shot. He still had the hope that they would remain undetected, and eventually the men would leave empty handed.

He certainly was not ready for Lissa as she dropped the shotgun and ran, mindless of the thorny entrance from the cave, and the sharp stones on her bare feet.

"Renard!" she cried, her voice shrill, echoing off the sides of the red sandstone cliffs.

Barefoot she sprinted toward the tall man in the brown suede as fast as her legs and exhaustion would allow. The two embraced wordlessly, Lissa's warm brown eyes looking into Renard's own. For a moment Lissa forgot herself taking in the heady scent of him and feeling the strength and warmth of his touch, she had longed for this more than she could have imagined. She wanted that moment of their togetherness to last forever.

Then with a start, she realized she must speak swiftly. Sven's rifle was trained on them with precision, and she was very unsure what the soldier would do now she had revealed his position.

"Sven is in there, he's with the rest of the women, he's armed. There are no other men here, they all left some days ago, and I don't think they are coming back." The words tumbled out.

Renard did not hesitate, positioning Lissa and himself behind the shipping container, and ordering the men to take cover.

Lissa found strength in Renard's presence beside her. "Sara and Kate are okay, and there is only Lucy, Raissa, Maya, and the baby. But I don't know if Sven will willingly surrender."

Raissa felt the hot wet of tears beginning to stream down her face. Lissa had betrayed them all. She had felt some odd emotions from this woman in the last few days, however, Raissa could not pinpoint what they were. This must have been what she had sensed, Lissa knew she would be rescued. Raissa held her son and watched the solid silhouette of her man crouched with the weapon in his hands, ready, stoic. Would he fight or surrender? Would they be spared, taken prisoner, or worse? She was very afraid this would not end well.

Lissa felt Renard move away from her side."No don't, I'm scared he will shoot."

"It will be alright." Renard reassured though he was unsure of the truth of his own words, he expected Sven would fight like the cornered lion he was. He wanted desperately to diffuse the standoff, but he was unsure what it would take.

"Put your weapons down Sven you have my word you will not be harmed."

Renard's voice carried clearly to all within the confines of the cave. The valley was growing dark now, fleetingly Sven contemplated using the onset of darkness to his advantage. Then in the same thought dismissed the idea. He was unsure what to do, but he knew they were trapped, and had few options.

If he chose to fight it would be to the death, he was not scared for himself. Violent men usually met their end by violence, it was an irrefutable fact. He did not want his son to perish, his love was great for the little scrap of a being he had sired. The scarred soldier sighed, it was a heavy sound. He didn't fully trust Renard, after all the feelings generated were mutual. Renard had been a captive here at his hands. Though he had to confess in all fairness that Renard had always seemed a man of honor, no matter the circumstance. However, he had lied about his origins, and that fueled Sven's distrust.

Renard again repeated his request for surrender. His voice was loud in the evening quietude.

Sven then turned to his charges, none could see his expression with his face in shadow, they only had the reassurance of his whispered words. "They are here for you two."

Raissa realized then that Frances' handmaidens had been of such little importance to her husband that he did not even know their given names.

"Maya." Sven whispered.

The slight girl jumped at the mention. She looked up, her face a mask of fear in the gloom.

"Take the two girls to them, Lucy if you wish to leave do so." He was hoping if they had what they had come for they would depart and leave him be. He had no desire to go with them.

There was a rustle of garments from the rear of the cave, Sven could see Maya's silver hair even in this darkness. The slight girl crawled forward with Sarah and Kate in tow.