Avarice Secret Unquiet CH 39

The last few weeks I have been terribly busy, I have been trying to actively work on this series when I can squeeze in the time to do so. I am currently working on the finale to this third book. This is a short chapter so it has been combined with the next one hence the delay. Enjoy.

I am the key

The entire village was quietly preparing for exodus as the long shadows began to streak the compound. A somber mood prevailed bringing a heaviness to the spirit. The women, children and the elderly would all depart tonight toward an uncertain future. All but the carefully chosen and most experienced fighters would stay to buy them as much time as they could.

Kario and his companion's task was to guide the refugee caravan safely to the Bridge. They had no plan as to what they would do if they reached the city. They had omitted the fact that the citizenry must have the appropriate paperwork to gain entry. Not wishing to further frighten the already alarmed citizens into perhaps feeling like they had no real alternative but to stay no matter how terrible the outcome. Getting so many across the wastes successfully was going to be quite the task, however, after Sven's illuminating speech that morning. Not very many felt that they had a viable alternative.

Kario stood alone this evening. He would for the foreseeable future be surrounded by the humans and their foibles. Something he was not looking forward to. His friends he had grown to accept, enjoy even, but all these strangers would be difficult for him.

He had walked down to gaze once more at the enemy encamped at the river's opposite bank. The last of the stark sunlight was filtering through the trees, casting hard lines across the red earth. He stood, surrounded by the serenity of it all, nature in its purest form. The green fields rippled in the breeze burdened with a fast-ripening harvest that stretched before him, waiting. Waiting for the harvest scythes that will never come.

The onset of evening always spoke to his soul, but this night it was strong, compelling. Humans feared the dark, but to Kario darkness was a sweet tonic. Whispering to his demon blood. It pulled him, wanting him to be as one with it. To see the spires of Narkeem'ezet and travel its darkened hallways once more.

He could feel it, those invisible ties that connected him to the underneath, intertwining with his essence. He felt a stirring, an awakening, a nearly painful longing deep within. A yearning transcending mortal boundaries, calling him to become whole with the darkness itself.

Kario's black-lashed eyes remained closed as he visualized his childhood home and retrieved his long stored memories of another place. A place of dark mystery, his elegant hands resting on his well-defined shoulders which no longer bore such unspeakable burdens. He clung to this moment, savoring it. Letting it sink deep into his bones before he opened his eyes with sadness. There is a regret in his destiny, to be forever caught between two realms.

Soon he knew that he would have to do something about it, he had on many occasions already sown the seeds. Without warning that old achingly familiar childhood lullaby resurfaced from between his lips.

"I am the key in the dark of night,

a shining beacon that leads to light."

"Through gates of darkness to realms unseen,

I am the key that sets them free."

"With every step the path unwinds,

a zilant's journey through heart and mind."

"The silence whispers secrets unfurled,

as I walk the darkness a key of pearl."

As he sang the familiar comforting words it hit him like a slap. His mother hadn't just sung this randomly. It was a message, something he would remember and recall without failure. He was the only surface dweller who knew of Narkeem'ezet's reality. He was the one with the demon magic, and it was his task however difficult to be that key.

"I am the key," he whispered huskily as he strode back to the village. But the key to what?

*****

Into the Desert

Once the civilians had been evacuated the most capable and brave fighters who had remained behind rallied on the eastern wall. Where defense strategies were discussed well into the fine starry night.

Renard had walked the walls after leaving Lissa and his parents. Checking that all was well, lingering to speak with the defenders as he made his rounds. He needed to reassure them, especially the younger recruits. It was what his Father would have done. Then he had headed to the trench defenses brimming with pit traps and sharpened spines of hewn wood. It was here the real skirmish would begin and truly amazing how swiftly all had been prepared. As he walked he felt troubled, torn over what Sven had said. Part of him still believed they could win if only they all had stayed behind to defend.

As he crossed from the trench defenses to the grassy clearing he could visualize the outlines against the scattered torchlight of the tethered horses. There were few, a skittish assortment of mostly young animals barely trained to carry a rider. The exodus of the civilians had requisitioned all the calmest animals. The wild nature of these beasts did not matter to those who were set to ride against the forces that would at dawn attempt to ford the river. Spirited horses were fast horses, and they were all experienced horsemen.

Renard felt a rush of hope as he approached the designated meeting place noting the generous number of men assembled. He even allowed himself the thought of a possible victory. It was something his heart yearned for. To bring his love home, to marry, to raise their children truly free, and to give his parents especially his Father the gentle retirement he deserved. It was a beautiful and warm picture that he painted in his mind, and he knew his dear sister would have approved. In his counting there looked to be at least seventy men present. Dedicated souls who strove to defend their home against just over one hundred invaders to Renard's reckoning were fairly good odds.

Renard personally knew many of the men who had stayed to fight, and he addressed each by name as he approached. He was grateful to them all. He could see Sven and Aran near the center of the gathering illuminated by the torchlight in all their golden glory. The brothers were stripped to the waist as they could requisition very few armor pieces that fit their broad builds.

The brother's presence made him uneasy. Renard was still very suspicious of their motives. Had Sven sent his people away into some kind of trap? He had no real way of knowing. Did the two brothers really just need to feel important, or did battle fire their blood? He wished he knew, but he had decided if he got so much as a reasonable whiff of treachery he would act without compunction to see them eliminated.

To that end, Renard avoided them, shouldering his quiver of arrows and his longbow and keeping to the darkness on the periphery of the briefing. Part of him wished to lead. This fertile stretch of land was his home after all, and by rights as the leader's son, the responsibility should be his. However, he had ceded that responsibility to Sven who would lead the initial risky horse charge.

Although many men who had farmed this valley were assembled, Bryn Frazer's men made up the majority of the force, even Chi and Anna had elected to remain for the ensuing fight. They were the only two women present vociferously letting it be known that they too wanted their taste of revenge. All of Bryn's followers clutched vengeance in their hearts, for this was as much their war as it was the people's of the farmlands. They had suffered many terrible atrocities at the hands of the Wolf Lord's army. Losing their homes and loved ones, but the one thing he could never take was their sense of pride. Renard could see this written on all of their faces as he strode toward Bryn. The short, stocky man smiled at his approach, flashing his white teeth against the blackness of his unruly mustache and bushy beard. His golden adornments shone richly in the torchlight.

"Ye be ready for it then?" Bryn asked, the broad grin never leaving his face despite the violence that shortly awaited.

Renard smiled and wordlessly nodded in the affirmative, as the men began to crowd about the battle-scarred Sven to hear what he had to say.

Night bathed the landscape with her darkened cloak. There was a light wind emanating from the northeast, ruffling the manes of the horses, promising another fine but warm day ahead. The departing sliver of a moon shone brightly on the surface of the now sluggish river that meandered through the gently rolling plain. The water level, the only impediment to the attack had at last subsided. They could see and hear the stirring of the soldiers on the opposite bank as the enemy war machine rumbled to life.

Sven sat on his fractious bay mount as it danced beneath him, the beast eager to run, speaking to the men assembled before him.

"I know that many of you have seen combat before.' Sven cast his gaze over Bryn's hardened men with approval. "You will already understand our situation here. However, for the new recruits, I wish to reinforce the virtue of clever evasion over rash acts of bravery tomorrow. Our enemy outnumbers and outguns us. They will have many weapons that can swiftly destroy our force. If you are injured there is a very real chance that you will not be able to be rescued, aid will be impossible once he advances. So don't be that hero."

Some of the young men from the settlement looked about at their compatriots gravely, hands fidgeting on their weapons. They had hoped perhaps for a speech full of glory, to be told that this would be easy and a victory within grasp. However, that was not what they heard. Sure they had hunted since they were small boys. No strangers to blood. However, today would leave an indelible impression.

Confident his grim message had been heeded Sven continued. "The primary aim is to stall them, and hopefully we can weaken them too so that they don't think of chasing us later into the desert. Hit them when you can. I am sure that they will attempt to gun us down and strafe the walls with mortar fire. There are very few horses for us to escape, you all know the rendezvous point?" He looked around at the circle of faces bathed in torchlight and hard shadows just to be sure and continued, "And know this... many of us will not. We must stall them for as long as we can. Now, at dawn as soon as they move to ford that river, we must rush them, catch them by surprise. We have to move in hard and fast. Take out as many as we can and retreat to the trenches before taking casualties. Don't try and aim at small targets, make each shot count. You will only get so many chances. Take out the horses if you can, without the animals they will be crippled greatly and they will have difficulty bringing up their heavier armaments."

The circle of rag-tag ruffians, many with grizzled beards and wild unkempt hair nodded in unison. Lothar's superior arsenal was a grim thought that had crossed every man's mind. Many had already witnessed the brutal strategies of Lord Lothar's forces firsthand. But today they were ready to make the Wolf Lord pay for every inch of ground.

"Now you all have your orders, so I think we should all try and get some rest before sunrise."

Many laughed at that remark, and even Sven's hard exterior softened with a look of mirth. All present knew there would be no sleep tonight.

"We ride just before dawn." As Sven looked the men over he could sense their eagerness and he knew that come tomorrow though they were outnumbered, each of these men and women would fight like cornered tigers and make Lothar pay for every inch of territory he gained in blood.

*****

Lothar sat with his eyes closed in the light-less interior of his campaign tent. It had become a nightly habit of his, as forced inactivity caused him to be awake the greater part of most evenings. He often used this time to think, but it was many evenings a curse just as the pain that ravaged his body. Soon the camp would erupt into life with every man knowing his duties and ready to face the adversary. But for the moment all was quiet, and he would use this opportunity to meditate before the day of blood and adrenaline commenced. Lothar pondered many of his lessons in military history. Yes, this skirmish wasn't exactly the battle of Hastings, but he was very sure that William the Conqueror probably took this quiet moment before the storm just as he was doing now. To reflect on his life and achievements, and evermore his goals.

All the events of the last few years had led to this moment. The broken treaty, the enemy's subterfuge, his vanishing bride, and today all of his grievances would find justice. He would spare no effort to emerge the victor determined he would not be duped like the last time. There were no militant raiders to save Stephan's people from his retribution. He would rain down on them with fire and steel until they had been subjugated completely.

Yet even with his decisive advantage, Lothar was still troubled. There was more hinging on the outcome of today than just a victory or even simple revenge. Lothar was a strategist, not a farmer, he understood that they had missed the planting season completely for the canola. He didn't even know if the seed was still in Stephan's granary and even if it was would it still be viable? It hadn't been sown last year after all. His very future rode on the back of that crop, it was a must-have for his fortress to function and he sure didn't have the leisure of another year to wait. That meant that the canola had to be planted and irrigated artificially if necessary. If he didn't secure that biodiesel by this winter the fortress would go permanently dark.

Lothar was a godless man and one of godless deeds. There was no warrior's prayer to be uttered from his severe lips. His mission was simple even if the stakes were high. To that end he had ordered the best and greatest of his arsenal be deployed and used. He would crush all resistance completely, hopefully in the first rush with minimal losses to his own men. He would enslave the survivors, and by tomorrow they would be in chains harrowing those fields and digging irrigation ditches.

*****

As dawn was beginning to break Victor Krosse stood at the open tent flap staring toward the enemy. He could see the dark walls snaking across the ever-green valley, in between the orchards and the ripe fields of wheat. His scouts had reported that there had been much activity within Stephan's walls in the past few hours. However, they had little more intelligence than that, as none of the scouts had dared to get closer having already suffered many near losses from the keen-eyed archers that vigilantly patrolled the walls. So they had sat back from their quarry and waited. Today though those archers would meet the might of Lothar's snipers Victor thought with smug satisfaction.

He watched on impassively as the camp bustled to life. Men were harnessing the massive war horses, munitions were being loaded, and uniforms and armor were donned. He was ready. Ready to crush this stupid resistance once and for all and return to his former life. A life more suited to his inclinations than his basic field tent. In that moment he longed to be home, back in the arms of his dear daughter. As he conjured her image he could almost feel her light touch and her sweet breath dancing across his skin. Abruptly Victor pushed these comforting thoughts down. There was a battle to be fought first, and he could not let his pawn fall. He needed Lothar to rule and victory today was nonnegotiable.

*****

It was with great sadness that the column of refugees marched relentlessly into the face of a new dawn. They could not afford the respite of a stop. They had no idea if they were being pursued or even if the skirmish had begun. Stephan looked listlessly out at the dry desert flats that stretched for miles in every direction blasted with the intense heat of the new day. The fiery orb had barely crested the horizon and already the temperatures on the open stretch of sand had become quite unbearable. The old man recognized that they could not keep up this pace, it was unrealistic, and he hoped his guide had a better plan than just fleeing into the uncharted hell of this desert.

He had been a leader for years but today he felt like useless baggage, if he had been a younger man he may have stopped the procession and turned about to make a stand. His private thoughts taunted him. Stephan found himself wishing he could just turn back, not just his direction but the course of some of the decisions he had made over a lifetime. Yes, his life was a life well lived, but he wondered as the loaded dray bumped and swayed and his old bones hurt with every jolt if he could have chosen better.

He felt Anna's hand rub his back in a tender gesture and he gave her a brief smile even if it was an emotion he didn't feel. He must keep his feelings in check, it was important for all of his beloved people. However, inside he mourned for the loss of all he had built because in his heart Stephan knew he would never return to his beautiful valley. Even if the others may someday. He hated the specter of old age, it was often a time of finalities he was fast discovering. Mostly though he worried about the fate of his only son, there were so few defenders, brave and capable men that they were. He prayed for them constantly.

Aurianne was also concerned at the brutal pace they were keeping. It had been over twelve hours since they had set forth. The animals were sweating hard under their burdens, and she knew they were tiring. Small children were crying, and the people were weary. However, she knew a balance must be struck. If they moved too slowly it was very likely they would be run down and captured. They must at least initially make good speed.

She wasn't at all happy about the prospect of heading south. She had sworn she would never return to the Bridge. The city was too constrictive for a woman of her capabilities, where females seemed to only be viewed as wives, chattels, or whores. There had to be some other place where she could make a life.

Aurianne pondered this future as she gently flicked the reins urging Isabou forward, wondering if she should when this task was complete let Jhary know of her growing romantic feelings? She often wondered if he felt them too, but she was not sure. The Bard was a very outgoing and social creature, he flirted with his audience and Aurianne was never sure if his feelings were real or feigned? She wondered how he would react if she revealed her true heart? There was also a stubborn part of her that cherished her independence, in much the way her mother had, and she was reluctant to give it up. This was a conundrum that she would defer to later, as there were many weeks of travel before her future would even be a consideration.

She wondered also what Darius would do? He had warmed to the idea of the Bridge, much to her internal upset. Aurianne had tried to tell him of the corruption and vice that she had encountered there, but Darius had told her that he needed to see this town for himself and make his own decision. Stating that he wished to start a smithy and that he could make a good living in a town that sizable. Aurianne could do no more than nod, she hated the idea that she may lose her beloved father figure to a place where she felt too uncomfortable to tread.

She had no idea of what Kario had planned to do, and she had not asked him. She suspected like her that he would be none too keen to return to the Bridge. He had after all recently stolen horses, a crime punishable by death.

Lucy along with Raissa and Maya trudged alongside the vehicles. All three women had declined a place on a cart, instead offering it to another woman with a babe at her breast and a young family.

Lucy felt entirely lost, she longed to simply return to the valley she had called home for the last few years. However, she had no idea of its location, and of course, she couldn't survive alone. She was so used to the life of a slave that she simply could not adjust to the concept of freedom and often stood about listless awaiting a command. With Warren absent from her life she felt she had little to live for and no worth as an individual to anyone. The lack of closure over her lover's death left her endlessly pondering his end. He too had been a slave, and was of little value to the men he had accompanied on the expedition. She would never have had the nerve to approach Gareth and inquire, and she knew already that cruel man's only solace to her would have been a sadistic laugh and a derogatory jibe. She had approached Dwayne, he had given her scant detail. All she knew was Warren had not survived to return to her.

Today Raissa embraced the monotony of the forced march. Any distraction to numb the pain inside her. Glad she only had to concentrate on each step and the intense heat of the sun on her back, or the burning sensation beneath the soles of her thin shoes. Sweat was dripping down her forehead and temples running stinging into her eyes. At times she was unsure if she was crying or if it was merely the conditions that drew her tears forth. Her mind hurt and the intense sun seared her eyes bringing on an unwelcome migraine.

As much as she tried to turn her mind off, painful memories came flooding her senses of her beautiful child's tiny hand in her own. Trusting, loving, wishing to be guided. Eirik's happy peals laughter and his unmitigated smile, and again she wept. She missed him, she would forever have a hole in her heart. Nothing could replace her little boy.

At this moment she was glad of Sven's absence. Her anger toward her husband ran unabated cutting her like a deep wound. Right now she could not have faced him. His many faults she listed off in her mind. He could have been far more compassionate. He should have protected Eirik better. He could have stayed by her side. Yet he had left her foundering alone in her grief to participate in a war he had no business in.

She was married, and yet she felt no different than property to her man, just like she was to the others in the raider band. Perhaps he would fall in battle and she would be at last be set free. They were unkind thoughts but she relished them anyway. They lent a fire to her belly and a force to her steps. She had no idea of the destination they were headed and part of her didn't care.

By mid-morning, they had reached a dense stand of Mallee trees. These many branched hardwoods often only grew to fifteen feet high and stood about in odd circular groves. They used the minimal cover to help conceal the caravan, and the meager shade these trees provided was most welcome. The fleeing civilians sat out the hottest part of the day resting and taking refreshments. There was no water in this location so they had to drink what they carried.

After making sure of her mare's welfare and walking about to reassure and check on all the families Aurianne had joined Jhary and Kario in the shade. It was a warm day for late spring, the sun burned one's exposed skin hotly. None of the trio could take their eyes from the distant horizon, fearing at any moment to see Lothar's men in dogged pursuit.

"We have to let them rest as long as we can, though I am loathe to," Jhary said quietly with concern. "As soon as it gets a little cooler we will try and make for the first water stop, it will probably be another all-nighter."

Aurianne let out a sharp breath between her teeth at the thought. These people were not used to the rigors of the road, let alone the unforgiving harshness of the desert where one mistake could cost lives.

Jhary, sensing her distress at the situation smiled one of his most gorgeous and disarming smiles. "It will get easier."

"I hope so," Aurianne answered absently, her blue-gray eyes reflecting nothing but the sea of red dunes they had just crossed.

There came the sound of tentative steps and as the three turned they saw Lissa Bateman standing behind them. She was a vision of beauty and unblemished innocence, with her heart-shaped face dusted with faint red freckles framed in flowing dark auburn curls. Clothed in a simple emerald dress the hue was the perfect accompaniment to her features. The long-sleeved garment hugged her trim figure and went all the way to the ground, only the tips of her matching green shoes peeked forth at the hem.

"Can you see them?" She inquired hopefully, scanning the far-off horizon shimmering with heat.

"No sadly," Aurianne said, patting the sand beside her in a gesture of welcome. "But you are welcome to sit with us if you like?"

"No, thank you, I just came to look. I should go back and help the others." She turned to leave.

"How is the old man?" Jhary asked, embarrassed he could not remember the elderly leader's name.

"He's doing fine considering," Lissa answered, "but I know he will not be himself completely until Renard returns to us."

Jhary nodded his usually cheerful demeanor creased by a thoughtful frown.

*****

Throughout the afternoon they watched for any signs of a pursuit, but the horizon stayed flat and devoid of all life, and as the sun's heat began to wane they once more were on the move. Jhary knew the next waterhole was not too distant, and they should encounter it somewhere before dawn. He let everyone know this so that they did not feel panic, it was most obvious that those so recently uprooted from their homes of many years should feel great trepidation at being this far into the desert. He had at times overheard their words and fears expressed in low whispers. They did not know him, and they were having difficulty letting him lead them into the wastes.

Jhary knew that they must use the nights wisely. The cool of the evening was the only time that the group could travel at this brusque pace. All were running scared, they had no idea if their men would return soon or if their enemies would give chase. People were fearful and jumpy, difficult to communicate clearly with and the leaders of the expedition were having much difficulty getting everyone to follow instructions.

During the night Jhary drew level with the dray that Aurianne was driving. He exchanged some pleasantries with her as interaction with her always bolstered his spirit and then decided to cut to the crux of his mission. The large open cart included many passengers including Lissa, Anna, and Stephan. The elderly man gazed at the bard as he rode alongside, meeting his greeting with the saddest clear blue gaze. Anna with her shock of white hair styled into a pixie cut smiled at Jhary as she held her husband's gnarled hand firm in her own.

Jhary began to converse easily and cheerily, asking how everyone was. Making sure all were as comfortable as possible. He had no desire to be confrontational but he needed the old man's help and he was unsure of how to get it. He seemed so listless and broken since his departure and had said so very little.

"Please, he begged in the gentlest voice he could muster. "You must talk with them. They are scared and need your guidance." Jhary hoped to appeal to the elderly man's ego and his voice held more than a hint of a desperate plea and much exasperation. "They will listen to you, they don't know me. When we get to this next oasis the water source is small, so it will be very important that the people drink before the animals. However, the animals will smell the water and we will have to hold them back to stop them fouling it."

Stephan nodded, but he didn't reply, and Anna looked across at Jhary wordlessly apologetic. The bard was about to turn away defeated, but before he could do so a rather severe-looking man with dark gray hair and a beard answered him. "I will see to it that the people understand. I'm George Hanson by the way." He made to extend his large gnarled hand, and despite the jostling of the cart, his grip was firm and steady.

"Thank you, Sir," Jhary answered. Just relieved that he had been heard by anyone at all.