Avarice Secret Unquiet CH 36

From this time forward dear readers, we have caught up to what I have written in the Avarice saga. However, I have I think 4 more chapters to go in Secret Unquiet which I am currently finalizing. I have begun on the new fourth book Unfortunate Sons as well. So I may not be able to release on a weekly cadence as I have done in the past, for that I apologise. Summer for me has been very busy with the creation of and soon to be open my own restaurant. So yes my time to write is a little limited, but do not fear Avarice will be competed. I envision about 5 books in this series. Thank you all for supporting my work.

Jormugar's Mistake

Jormugar had ridden hard the past two nights to the location where he knew the river snaked through the fertile farmland. His unnamed grullo gelding though a small horse was as always surefooted and eager covering the distance in good time. It was almost breaking dawn as he reached the valley that sloped down into the settlement below. The tattooed tracker was rather taken by surprise as the last time he had passed by this location there had been no defensive wall surrounding the small hamlet. It was then even in the half-dark of approaching dawn he caught sight of the enemy army camped on the opposing bank of the river, no more than an indistinct dark smudge on the wide red sand.

He halted his mount and assessed the scene for long moments, the pleasant light breeze blowing his chocolate curls over his face and into his impressively unusual hazel eyes. Threats made people suspicious, and they often behaved irrationally. Perhaps he should abort his mission. But he had been here before, and he had been treated cordially. The wild man sat mulling over these thoughts for long moments, and then he did something he never usually did, he let his heart rule over his wild animal caution. Though he was by habit a loner, he could not bear to go north alone. This would be his last stop if he were to seek a suitable canine companion.

He put his heels to his gelding's trembling flanks and urged him down the scree-covered slope toward the gate and the watchtowers lined with attentive archers. He knew they had already registered his approach. He was but a lone rider, they had little to fear. As he rode never taking his sharp eyes off the men who lined the upper walls and had their jagged-tipped arrows trained on him. Four more men emerged from the gate bearing swords. They surrounded his tired horse and held its reigns firm. For a moment Jormugar feared he would be turned away.

Jormugar explained the essence of his business with the terse leader of the men. The old gray-haired soldier seemed suspiciously unbelieving of the young man's rather simplistic motive. Jormugar wondered then if he should just ride away, the people here were not nearly as welcoming to him as they had been the last time he visited. However, by this point, he was concerned that if he did, the archers would loose their projectiles. So he let himself be passively escorted into the township.

He was ordered to dismount and his horse was led away. He was summarily searched and divested of his weapons. The bounty hunter didn't like how events were unfolding, but he was left with little choice as he was then escorted to a large home that was set deep within the settlement overlooking the fertile river valley. He was met there by a tall young man who seemed busy and distracted. He could see that the village was well prepared for war. The entirety of this large home's lower floor had been converted into a field hospital.

The tall young man looked Jormugar over with inquisitive brown eyes, his face twisted with consternation and his hand on his bearded chin in thought. It was finally decided that Jormugar would be allowed to fulfill his request, but only if he was accompanied by an escort. It was plain that they did not trust him and thought he had been sent by the war party that sat on the opposite bank to cause some kind of havoc, or perhaps glean some kind of valuable intelligence.

Jormugar's mission was not in vain though. Apparently, there had been a litter of pups recently whelped. They belonged to one of the stable hands and he had been currently seeking homes for them. They were big dogs and Jormugar's spirit brightened.

*****

Sven sat watching his son fade as the shadows began to be cast in the room as the sun rose. This was every parent's nightmare. He found he could not bring himself to leave his child's bedside for any reason. He did not sleep or eat. His soul was torn in ways he could never have imagined. In all his long wanderings, struggles, and suffering nothing had prepared him for this terrible moment. His beautiful boy lay dying. The doctors had already admitted that they had nothing further left to try.

The child was as they said in God's hands now. Raissa wept and tore at her hair, Lucy and Maya tried to comfort her. Sven was incapable of giving her that support. He sat unmoving as a statue but nothing would bring little Eirik back to health.

By mid-morning Sven knew his child had taken his last breath. Little Eirik had lived a short but happy life, at least as carefree and filled with love as was possible to give in these hard and uncertain times. Sven did not weep for his son, but inside he felt cold and dead. He remained unmoving as the undertaker took the little body away to prepare him for burial. His son was gone and so was his meaningful future.

*****

Maya had brought the terrible news to Aran who was lounging by the well in the welcome shade of a large gnarled peppercorn tree. Aran frowned at her announcement and made at once to rise. He knew that he was possibly the only one who could communicate with Sven and help him through his immediate grief.

As he gazed out across the courtyard reflected in harsh midday light toward the horse barn his eye caught someone familiar to him. Aran's mind jolted, in a fight or flight response. He knew that tattooed man! Without acknowledging Maya with more than a tap on her arm indicating she should stay put. Aran drew his sword with a flourish and headed toward the man who was being escorted by two armed soldiers.

Just before Jormugar was about to enter the barn he heard the rush of feet speeding toward him. He turned much quicker than his guards did to see Aran's sword blade already poised at the base of his throat. The soldiers too drew their short swords hesitantly, and those who had been merely walking about the barn stopped to stare at the ensuing altercation.

Aran had never thought he would chance to see his captor again, a man he had bitterly vowed revenge on many times over. Jormugar had changed his life irrevocably and he was not going to let this man go unpunished. He thought about running him through, right there and then, but that would be too clean. This man who could so blithely sell another needed to suffer.

The guards appeared confused at Aran's aggressive approach and stood aside though they halfheartedly still brandished their swords. They eyed one another unsure how to react, unwilling to be pressed into a fight with the brutal warrior.

Aran pressed the tip of his sword threateningly against the notch at the base of Jormugar's throat. A tiny bead of blood drew forth, bright crimson against his dark skin. The bounty hunter swallowed, he too had not forgotten the savage fighting slave he had captured and sold many long seasons ago. He closed his eyes and waited to die. But death didn't come.

In a flash, Aran realized how this man would pay his dues. His words tumbled out even before he had thought his plans through. "You are going to do something for me slaver scum." He spat with raw viciousness.

Jormugar's bright hazel eyes opened to see Aran's intense green ones gazing at him with heated fury, the tip of the sword still dug dangerously into his throat.

"Lock him up and don't let him escape." Aran ordered, as the guards sheathed their swords and tied Jormugar's hands leading him away to the prison.

*****

Though Aran was jubilant after this morning's fortuitous capture, he could hardly let it infect his attitude as he dealt with his elder brother's loss. Sven was a wreck, it took much coaxing to get him out of the hospital and into the brighter sunlight. Aran figured the sun at least may help the man's spirits, that he might face the funeral of the little boy planned for this afternoon.

There was much talk of imminent war. The river was subsiding rapidly. They had but a day or so to prepare. Personally, Aran was unaffected, he would do his part and either perish, be victorious, or find a way to leave and at last, fulfill a long-desired wish.

*****

Jormugar looked up at the well-made warrior who towered over him, his one strong hand splayed on the stone wall supporting his entire weight as he looked down at his prisoner. Aran's every gesture oozed threat. The bounty hunter drew a deep breath and willed himself to be calm. He could not change his destiny. All he could do was conduct himself with dignity and hope he could make some kind of deal that would see his eventual freedom to continue north.

However, he knew that his actions had caused Aran immeasurable suffering. Jormugar was no stranger to the slave trade and was very much aware of the misery experienced by his captives. This though was new, never before had he come face to face with the ire of one whom he had sold for profit.

"I should have just slain you where you stood." Aran said bitterly. Jormugar averted his eyes choosing the safest path of a penitent man gazing at the floor. Aran was not the kind of man you incited with a challenging stare. He knew already that whatever the warrior had planned for him it would be suffering enough. Curiosity piqued him though, and he wondered just why he had been spared.

The huge warrior's presence in the tiny holding cell was cloying. There was no escaping his wrath. Though he didn't look up Jormugar could sense the man was flexing his powerful hand on the bricks, making an effort to stifle his anger.

"Now listen carefully you miserable lowlife cunt. I will not repeat myself. You will help me retrieve from your employer something that is mine." His voice was almost a toneless rasp.

The blood in Jormugar's veins went icy cold at this announcement. Shit! He wants me to go back south, but I can't! Though the bounty hunter's outward placid demeanor had not changed. He didn't want Aran to know what he feared. It was all part of the survival game.

"You know your way around Jacques' compound. So you are going to steal for me what he took."

Jormugar felt the toe of a large boot nudge him firmly in his side in a rough prompt. He vividly recalled all the gold and rare gems that had been on Aran's person when he was captured. A king's ransom. His employer had been so delighted he received even more gold than agreed and at the time Jormugar had been most pleased with himself. Little did he know how much it would return to hurt him, and he had no doubt that his man would. That golden bounty would be long gone, but he didn't dare try and explain that to the resolute giant that hovered over him.

His usually quiet mind was racing, there was no way he could explain this to own peril, and he sensed the only way he could save himself was to at least appear amenable to the warrior's request. To buy himself some time even if it was only to escape and flee. So he nodded without answering. He was not sure his voice would not betray him.

Fortunately, Aran noted Jormugar's silent assent and seemed somewhat placated. "You had better hope we win this war, or I suspect you will die here in this cell." With that, the large warrior turned and left him to contemplate his fate.