Aran had been initially wary of going into the farming settlement. He had at the outset desired to stay behind and camp on the outskirts. The societies of men had become difficult to feel at ease in. He was no longer who he once was, the bold warrior unstoppable and confident no matter what came at him. Slavery had changed him fundamentally, and the treachery of Stephan's people withholding their men at the final moment. Turning for the hills to leave his clan to die and be tortured at the hands of the Wolf Lord, was to him an unforgivable crime. But, his brother needed him, and as always family came first.
Yet, he would remain wary and guarded in his interactions with the locals. The group of travelers had been offered a vacant home deep within the settlement. Comfortable though it was the golden-haired warrior declined, preferring to sleep in the large barn that afforded him a good view of the town center and everything that was going on. He would not fall victim to another betrayal.
He had been walking about that morning after visiting his distraught brother, offering what little hope and support he could, and yet waiting for the inevitable to come. He would, he had decided busy his mind with doing what he did best, preparing for war. Darius was at this moment crafting the warrior a sword, and he was on his way to the smith to see how the newly forged weapon felt in his hands. Certain it would taste blood tonight. Though in his heart he still grieved for the loss of the magnificent Blacksteel.
Why he should assist his enemy was a rough blemish on Aran's conscience. They had betrayed him once after all. However, after sitting and listening to the conversations of last evening he realized that the Wolf Lord was everyone's mutual enemy. There too were other factors in his acceptance to fight for Stephan. Aran was well aware that he could not resume his allegiance to Bennett and his men even if he had wished to. Bennett would probably slay him on sight rather than readmit him to the war band. Besides, Bennett's men numbered very few. What would he hope to achieve? There were no other settlements that Aran felt he could live in without facing the stigma of the mark emblazoned on his thigh. In Stephan's village, at least people from all walks of life were equals and could live their lives freely. There were no slaves here, the idea was repugnant to all.
Perhaps this would be as good as it got? Though as he looked about him at the crudely constructed palisade walls and archers pacing atop lookout towers. He truly wondered if this place could be defended without heavy loss of life. Lothar's force unless they were fortunate would be devastating against these simple folk. He had kept quiet last evening as he listened to their strategies bandied about the war table. He knew what kinds of superior weaponry their enemy possessed and he felt grim. He was not afraid for himself, he was pretty sure he could conduct himself well on the battlefield. But he was afraid for the village. All he could think was lambs to the slaughter. He hoped he was wrong in his assessment of the probabilities.
It was at that troubled moment he saw her. A slight girl moving hurriedly along the street with purpose, eyes down. She would have caught any man's roving eye. Her rare shade of silken moonlit hair betrayed her identity to him unmistakably. Though Aran had been vastly interested in another, and longed to put the redheaded archer in her place, as her body still drew him strongly. His interactions with her had not run their predicted course. The inexplicable that surrounded her bothered him, and he found himself often going over recent events trying to understand just what it was his party members had known that he did not. Maya, on the other hand, was pretty and malleable, and she adored him.
The sudden look of recognition on the girl's pretty heart-shaped face and the surprise in her pale eyes told him that he had been missed. Her tight pressing hug and sharp intake of breath called to his desire. Her soft hair brushed against his skin in barely a caress, akin to a whisper. He smiled, glad to see a familiar face as he softly called her name. Her comfort was welcome, and his errand quite forgotten he hurried her away to the privacy of the barn where he could enjoy her gifts discreetly. War was on the horizon after all, and a man never knew just how much time he had, even a confident one.
*****
Aran and Maya had loved fiercely and then slept in the bright fresh straw in one of the vacant horse stalls. Completely undisturbed for the entirety of the afternoon. Maya told Aran how much she had missed him and how she had longed for his return. He dwarfed the svelte woman as she nestled in the protective crook of his arm. Aran quietly listened, stroking her perfect soft skin, and nibbling and kissing her neck. Most of the settlement was preoccupied with the war and the raid that was to happen that evening. Aran though enjoyed Maya's gifts, thinking of nothing else until he realized the shadows had grown long and he must retrieve his sword.
Maya had reluctantly revealed to Aran her current living circumstance, and of the soldier she had moved in with to assuage her loneliness for a man's touch. Aran listened quietly to her soothing whispers. He was not happy that she had another man, but he remained quiet as the girl stumbled over her words in her shame and guilt.
The warrior rose brushing the straw that stuck in his identically colored hair and on his trousers, ordering her to "go to the infirmary and wait with my brother. You will be safe there. I will come later and get you, you are not to return to that soldier, understand. If you have anything there I will send Raissa or Lucy to retrieve it for you later." Aran knew that sending Maya home would possibly lead to an ugly altercation. The man would surely realize that Maya had been with another lover if he paid attention that was. She was again his and he was not going to share her. However, now he must prepare, there was a war to be won, and they needed to succeed this evening to put their strong enemy at a disadvantage.
He watched Maya run toward Stephan's sprawling home, satisfied she would be safe until his return and he made his way to the smithy. As he expected Darius was there working at the anvil and feeding his everburning forge. The warmth felt good on Aran's skin as the cool evening air descended and the sun began to set. The wind was on the rise and Aran noted it would both cover their approach and fan the blaze toward their enemy's encampment.
"Ah, here she is." Darius clearly proud of his work pulled forth a newly minted blade from a well-oiled brown leather scabbard. A shining two-handed long sword. It was brightly argent and the design was very clean. Devoid of any superfluous embellishment. A weapon designed for killing. Aran looked the sword over critically, as he took it in his hand. Testing its balance. The keen blade was serviceable enough, and Aran tried to find the words to praise the smith's skill, however alongside the otherworldly magnificence of Blacksteel he struggled to sound enthusiastic. Fortunately, the smith was busy with some short swords and arrow tips and he didn't register Aran's muted reaction to his work. He thanked the man and made his way toward the rendezvous point to hear the final plans.
*****
Maya ran through the village until her breath came in ragged gasps toward Stephan's large home. It was easily the largest domestic structure in the village. A sprawling two-story homestead. Around this large building, there was a constant bustle of activity. Military men were coming and going with reports, supplies were being brought and furniture was repositioned. Maya was unused to such frenzied activity. Preferring the peace and quiet of her sewing to all this war time fuss. She hadn't given much thought to the war, that was partly deliberate. She often in her dreams relived that terrible night when her own settlement had fallen to Bennett's raiders. Her life changed forever. She was well aware of what would eventuate if the walls fell, but she tried her best to block it out. David had at times spoken to her of it and the precautions he wanted her to take if the hamlet was overrun. She had dutifully listened and nodded, but she knew if that happened she would simply flee and attempt to hide. To worry about tomorrow as it came.
Aran's reentry into her life had changed everything. The pretty girl felt little guilt in abandoning David. Perhaps she was cold and calculating, but Maya knew that Aran would protect her no matter what happened. She could hardly contain her excitement and delight at being reunited with him once more. That flurry of happiness gave her feet speed, but as she neared wide front doors of the homestead that stood open she halted. If Sven was here where would he be, and butterflies again arose in her stomach as she feared she might have to pull someone aside and ask. She really dreaded conversing with these people.
As she walked into the large room set with rows of cots she found herself saved. There was Lucy, her back to the doorway sitting on a chair her bruised legs stretched out before her. The woman was looking at her toes seemingly lost in thought. Maya called out to her and Lucy not expecting to hear her name called looked up in an expression of fearful surprise. An expression that soon manifested into one of happiness, and for Lucy that was a rare thing. The two women embraced and there were the faintest glimmer of tears in the corners of Lucy's eyes.
It was then Maya turned her attention to the cordoned-off area of the room. Lucy put her hand on Maya's arm and in barely a detectable whisper over all the noise in the homestead she told Maya of the terrible circumstances of Eirik's sickness. Maya felt a wave of sadness grip her, she loved the boy. He was a delightful happy child, and she had many wonderful memories hoping that someday she could give Aran a son of his own. A mirror of little Eirik. So the two women sat quietly keeping vigil, both of them being godless they didn't even have the comfort of prayer.
*****
The sun was now positioned far to the west. It would set soon. Jhary felt a great tension grip his body, it was as though every muscle and fiber of his being had been pulled taught. It was difficult to love in these times the man of music ruminated. He knew that Aurianne was about to leave, he had so wished she had not volunteered. He could not afford to lose her. It was a selfish realization, but he wished someone else had gone in her stead. It was then he saw the flame-haired object of his tension emerge from the home they all shared. He turned abruptly on his heel and headed her way. His hand alighting on her leather-bound wrist. "Be careful Aurianne, that river is treacherous," Jhary had said, worry and care on his usually happy countenance. He had really wished she would not go, but he dared not give vent to his true feelings.
"I shall," Aurianne said confidently giving him a heart-melting smile. Her gray-blue eyes sparkled with both confidence and affection.
Jhary watched her walk away, tall and proud. Her quiver and bow slung over her back and a short sword strapped to her side. He could not bear to lose her, and yet he knew what must be done.
Kario had emerged from the domicile to see her off also, but as always he appeared unaffected. As was often the case his emotions were completely unreadable. He watched the warrior woman's retreating form as the night had begun to arrive.
*****
Aran clutched his sharp poniard carefully between his teeth. The last thing he wanted to do was stupidly cut his tongue, but he didn't wish to lose the blade crossing the river. He checked over his weapons one more time seeing them secured for the rough swim he must make. Perhaps there would be no killing tonight but he would never be found unprepared. The blond warrior had always been an excellent swimmer and athlete, the guy to beat at all the high school swim meets. The quintessential sporting jock, just like his brother had, and his father before him. So this crossing presented little concern to the seasoned warrior. He watched his three companions readying themselves, and his green eyes lingered on Aurianne in overt appreciation, as they often did. Her tightly formed leather armor left little to the imagination as he watched her tuck the well-wrapped tinder stone into her bodice.
The sun was fast setting and the wind strengthening, and they all had their orders. Get in behind The Wolf Lord's encampment undetected and light the grass, the strong gusting winds should do the rest.
Aran was the first to wade into the rushing water, it was surprisingly cold considering it was almost summer. Sharp pinpricks of sensation tore his senses as he forced himself to submerge and begin the fight to swim against the roiling current. A lesser athlete would have found this dangerous. However, the four who had been chosen were strong swimmers and made the other side. Though they had been swept even further down the river by the time they reached the far shore. There were no sentries here as they were quite a way downstream from their target. They made their way to the treeline and slowly advanced to the far side of the enemy camp.
Their target came into sight and silently they fanned out. Aurianne could glimpse the few scattered guardsmen lounging at their posts, but they were a great distance from her. They obviously did not expect an attack to come from this direction and behaved accordingly. Standing at ease, their weapons not at the ready. They would present little danger.
