Avarice Secret Unquiet CH 42

I believe I have 2 chapters left to write to conclude book three of Avarice. I have most of it written and will post them as soon as they are completed to my satisfaction. Enjoy.

Unguarded Moments

"Thanks for the save..." Renard muttered weakly, slumping against Dale's back as they rode out into the desert. Despite the horse's jolting gait, Renard's eyes closed as weakness and a half-consciousness descended. He was barely able to hold his seat in the saddle. Dale held Renard upright by fastening his friend tightly to his own waist with his shirt, and they covered the miles swiftly, meeting up with some of the scattered escapees, including John. All were weary to the point of exhaustion, but they did not rest; they wished to be as far from their enemy as possible. Once Lothar had discovered the true scale of the damage to the granary, they were sure that he would hunt them all relentlessly to the ends of the earth.

Towards evening, the bedraggled party of defenders began to observe traces of tracks and scattered horse apples on the mostly empty dunes. Denoting that they were directly moving in the wake of the refugees, but quite possibly some twenty-four hours behind.

Renard was having difficulty remaining lucid as the sun began its spectacular descent, its harsh and bright beams of dying light directed heavenward through the clouds. It was the first instance in many days that the skies had not appeared an empty sea of blue, and it was a welcome visual distraction to the escapees of the violence.

Against this backdrop of jarring pain and his friend's nearness, Renard had begun to fall in and out of consciousness. Renard's knee was throbbing painfully, now the adrenaline of the battle had subsided. His arm hurt as well, but his knee was where the real misery was. He found he was afraid to move or reposition it; the pain was tremendous, and he wondered fearfully if perhaps he would be crippled from the injury.

Even through this agony, he still found the will to smile. He had delivered the decisive blow to his enemy, and against all odds, he had lived to tell the tale. Lissa and his parents were somewhere ahead, and he would be reunited with them soon, and with those thoughts, even this terrible situation and journey didn't seem so bad.

*****

Some forty-eight hours into the escape south. Jhary had slowed his pace. The bard could now begin to identify familiar landmarks and felt more relaxed in his position as guide. There had been no evidence of a pursuit on the horizon nor any signs of the defender's return. Jhary was still rather frustrated with the old man, who had declined to direct his people in any significant fashion. Yet the bard understood that their leader was old and frail and somewhat disoriented by all that had happened. He dearly hoped that as time went on, perhaps when Renard returned, Stephan would step up to lead. In the meantime, Jhary was glad that Stephan's long-time rival George Hanson had been shouldering much of that burden.

After they had made camp and the children were all bedded down, on the days that Jhary didn't feel like playing a tune or telling stories, the lay preacher would read verses from the bible. Many of the citizens found comfort and meaning in those words. As the sun rose on yet another brutal and still day, George sat among his fellows, bolstering their faith as they scanned the superheated northeastern horizon, waiting for their loved ones to return.

"Let us this day read from Exodus..." George's voice was a comforting, gravelly baritone. Easy on the ears, and many lay down on their blankets in the sand, eyes closed, occasionally flicking at errant flies to listen to his sermon.

"Then Moses led Israel from the Red Sea, and they went into the Desert of Shur.  For three days, they traveled in the desert without finding water. When they came to Marah, they could not drink its water because it was bitter." He paused for a time, lending power to his recitation before continuing on...

"So the people grumbled against Moses, saying, "What are we to drink?  Then Moses cried out to the Lord, and the Lord showed him a piece of wood. He threw it into the water, and the water became fit to drink."

Tired mothers comforted their children, and small cooking fires were lit. The smell of roasting meat and eggs added to the sense of comfort.

"There, the Lord issued a ruling and instruction for them and put them to the test.  He said, "If you listen carefully to the Lord your God and do what is right in his eyes, if you pay attention to his commands and keep all his decrees,  I will not bring on you any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians, for I am the Lord, who heals you."

Stephan too sat with his eyes closed, his back against a stout tree, listening to George's every word. God's message comforted him in this time of crisis, and he would draw strength from it to carry on. He could not wallow in this self-pity that had gripped him on the loss of his home and many of his people. He must lead. George's readings from the bible showed him this. Both God and Jesus never gave up, no matter how difficult their paths were. Yes, he was old, yes, his body was failing, and losing everything he had striven for, for the past twenty years, hurt. His son would return, and he would have a beautiful new daughter, and her family would join with his. Perhaps grandchildren would follow if he were blessed. A small smile tilted the corners of his lips as George kept reciting the biblical passage.

"Then they came to Elim, where there were twelve springs and seventy palm trees, and they camped there near the water...."

Stephan would and he could lead, and he was again ready for one more try...

*****

This first scheduled stop, Jhary had dreaded. The water hole was small, but it was clear and extremely deep. An entirely natural artesian formation, akin to a well. This site provided a welcome stop for every caravan running north and south. It had at one time been poisoned by warring factions, but over time, the deep waters trapped within the earth had flushed this place of refreshment clean. Now it was as before. A drinkable source of life.

There were very few trees here to denote this particular waterhole. If one didn't have a sharp eye, it was all too easy to miss this place of rejuvenation.

Jhary called a halt to the tired caravan just before sunrise. The people stood awaiting his pronouncement. The day prior had been hot and blistering, and everyone was weary. Even the animals stood with heads down and heaving sides.

The bard steeled himself and strode to the front of the exhausted refugees. He had already told Darius and the others how they would proceed, but he felt that once he informed the thirsty travelers that cool, clear water lay in abundance just a few hundred feet distant, they would all start fighting and fussing to reach it and thereby foul the supply.

He was about to speak when he felt someone lightly brush his arm. It was to his shock Stephan. The old man's gnarled hand was shaking as he gripped his cane tightly. His snow white hair and beard blew in the light desert breeze. "I will speak if you don't mind...," he said gently.

Jhary took a step back, glad to relinquish control, as the new light of dawn broke over the horizon.

Stephan's voice was surprisingly strong as he said his first words. "I know you are all tired and thirsty. But it's important we gather the water here carefully. We do not want to taint the water hole. It is small, and I know the farmers among you already understand the wisdom in this. Children will drink first, then the elderly, followed by the women, and then us men. Lastly, we will bring up the animals, but not before we collect and re-provision all the potable containers. Is that understood?"

It was plain on all the tired faces that they were relieved and happy to see their leader's strength again. Stephan's strength was their strength. They nodded and muttered in understanding.

"Some of the men can wait here with the animals; we don't want them to scent the water and break free. Let's get to it then before the sun gets hot."

The morning was spent carefully divvying out the water. It was cool and plentiful and did not have to be rationed, with everyone taking their fill. They spent the remainder of the harsh day sheltered under the few shady eucalyptus trees that were scattered on the plain.

*****

Lothar sat in his sulky in front of the sabotaged and blackened granary. The fire had burned fiercely and hotly, consuming all. Even though the tall structure had been reduced to mostly cinders and ash, it was still very uncomfortable to remain anywhere close by. The old dry timbers had combusted spectacularly, and the grain once alight had formed a hellish inferno. The dust and husks had caused a catastrophic explosion that had sent many smaller fires spilling outward and racing through the surrounding fields and homes.

His vaunted prize was in ruins. As Lothar gazed at this destruction, a savage anger grew in his vitals, one so strong and black he had never experienced before. His arms shook, and his vision swam before him. He was so furious that he could not utter even a single curse. His men stood quietly, sensing his tightly contained wrath, with eyes averted; they too understood what the loss of the granary portended. Without the precious grain, there could be no fuel, and with it no civilized life.

Victor stood off to one side, his cap in his black, gloved hands, fingering the brim and focusing only on that nervous action. Though usually a decisive man, he didn't know what to say. Only the crackling of flames permeated the dreadful silence.

*****

With the easing of their frantic pace southward, Aurianne would sometimes leave the driving of her beloved mare to Darius. He was the only person that she completely trusted with Isabou's welfare. The smith was a gentle, compassionate man who had been a fine example to her growing up. She had always wished that her Mother and Darius had fallen in love and married. So she could have called him her real father. Alas, that had never happened, but her fondness for the burly smith was unbridled, something Darius even teased her about until this day.

This evening was one such evening, and the darkness had not quite descended. All about her extended the lifeless plains of mostly scattered ironstone pebbles and red rolling sands as far as the eye could see. This vista was occasionally interspersed by a lone contorted tree that barely clung to life, or the odd sprinkling of scratchy bushes or grasses that sheltered a plethora of bright, fast-moving skinks and bearded dragons by day.

Her beautiful, symmetrical lips curled down in an almost undetectable frown, and her usually smooth forehead creased with concern as she hoped that Jhary knew where they were headed. They were currently much further north than he usually traveled, plying his craft...

"Evening..." A rich, exotic voice came to her ears out of the blue.

Aurianne's thoughts had turned so inward that she had failed to notice Kario. The man, at times, moved eerily silently, and not many ambushed her the way he managed to. She turned, her frown fading once more to be replaced by a bright smile that gave her blue-gray eyes all the sparkle of faceted sapphires.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." Kario's voice was soft and overwhelming like the slowly encroaching dusk.

"Oh, you are fine. I should've been taking a lot more attention to my surroundings anyway." Aurianne sheepishly admitted.

"Huh, yes, but we all falter from time to time. Too much hyper-vigilance isn't good for you in the long run." Kario playfully admonished.

"True, sometimes I need a good rest." The redhead confessed.

"Do you think they have begun fighting yet?" Kario added, taking a glance behind him into the darkness.

"I imagine they have... and it's probably by now over..." Aurianne's soft voice trailed off as she imagined the hectic events unfolding to the north.

They were then quiet for a time before the conversation took a more difficult turn as the darkness closed in. The thin sickle of a moon rose, and the stars began to sparkle overhead as it was another cloudless night. Not at all unusual for this time of the year. The air was still warm from the heat contained by day in the sand, but even so, it would cool to become frigid later in the wee hours.

They had by now fallen way behind the column of weary travelers and were walking at a leisurely pace. Kario often made it a habit to trail the noisy group; he found it helped ease his frayed nerves. He was, after all, not too good or comfortable around people. Aurianne had to admit that it was far more relaxing to be here than it was up front driving the carts, with all the children crying and people's incessant chatter. Sometimes she wondered how they would complete this long journey with so many people to care for.

She took a quick, surreptitious glance sideways at her exotic companion. His dark handsomeness was arresting and unusual. She was comfortable around him in a way she could never be with many of the men she encountered. He didn't stare at her cleavage for awkward moments like others, never lifting their eyes to address her face. When Kario looked at her, she knew he saw Aurianne for who she really was. A compassionate and strong woman. Yes, Kario may have been inexplicable at times, and there were a plethora of pent-up questions she longed to ask... but he was someone she considered a friend.

Again, in the snatched hours of restless sleep on the trail, she had begun the strange dreaming. Visions of dark, mysterious men with velvet voices and surreal watery caves burrowed deep into the earth. As she looked across at her traveling companion, she seriously began to wonder whether Kario was similar in nature to her own unknown father. In hindsight, she could easily see her mother falling for one such as he. A quiet knowing man, gentle and wise, not quick to accuse or react? She realized that the scenario of her mother being with a man like that was honestly very plausible, as much as she had always wanted her to marry Darius.

When she was little, her mother had often read her stories about magic and fantastical worlds occupied by the fey folk, witches, and wizards. She began to wonder if worlds like those were possibly real. Kario had, after all, performed some impossible feats. He had altered into that magnificent lion, conjured flames from nowhere, and put a mighty warrior into a slumber simply by the act of eye contact and a whispered suggestion. Yet at other times, he seemed more helpless than she was.

So many recent mysteries she wished to be solved, and before she knew it, she was talking in that unfiltered way of hers that she knew her companion would find challenging. Yet she intrinsically knew Kario desired the understanding of an ally. She would be the one to listen without judgment, even if it was to the ravings of a madman.

"I know you are hesitant," she began awkwardly, the words stuck to her lips, "but please, tell me about your world, your mother..."

To Kario, Aurianne's words, out of the darkness, were like a sharp stab. Inviting him to talk about his past, about everything that no human he had ever encountered had believed. Subjects carefully skirted what he had learned not to reveal. Suddenly, the words his mother had sung to him tumbled into his mind. 'I am the key in the dark of night, a shining beacon that leads to light.' Perhaps he was the key, maybe not in some grandiose fashion, maybe just a key to understanding, and Aurianne was reaching out to him.

Kario chuckled, flashing his straight white teeth, and at first, Aurianne thought that he was going to mock her. To her surprise, though, he began to speak freely.

"I guess out of everyone here... I do owe you some kind of an explanation... Though I am not sure you will believe what I tell you."

"Try me?" Aurianne challenged, albeit playfully, not wishing to shut him down. Now that she was on the precipice of getting to the bottom of all the inexplicable happenings she had seen since Kario had come into her life.

"Well..." Kario paused for awkward moments before continuing. "My mother is what your bible would call a demon."

But demons were hideous monsters! Aurianne's train of thought dictated as Kario said this. "But I saw her for a moment, she was ... beautiful."

"Demonesses are beautiful," Kario shot back, "so beautiful in fact that if a mortal man were to see one he would surely lose his sanity, and want for no other woman all his days."

"But didn't you say your father was an ordinary man? If so, how did he survive her?" Aurianne interrupted, feeling she was complicit in a jest. Yet she knew that Kario believed what he told her was the truth.

"That he was, and if he survived, who can say... I know nothing more about him than that. My mother returned to Narkeem'ezet, and I was born and raised there."

"So you remember the place which you told me is below the earth?" For effect, she pointed at the sand beneath her feet.

"Yes, vividly, I still long for it." Kario's voice was laced with longing and a deep love.

"So how did you get here then?"

"Well, my mother was ordered by her husband, the King of the demons, to abandon me to the upper earth because I was a halfling, but she refused. As his consort, she had the power to defy him and did for many years. Though I am told it is not wise." He chuckled again.   

Aurianne could see that, truth or not, Kario was clearly enjoying telling this story.

"Only when I was of an age I could survive on my own did she bring me here. I have wished for her ever since and to return to my beloved Narkeem'ezet."

"So you are technically a prince then, if your mother is a Queen?"

"No, only a full blooded demon can ever be a prince."

"But you are like them, yes? You have powers. So I'm not imagining the things I have seen, like the fire and the lion?"

"No, you are not."

His answer was so matter-of-fact that Aurianne had decided he was either a raving lunatic or he was telling the truth, at least the truth as he knew it to be. Yet she had borne witness to, and even profited from his powers, and she desired to dig further.

"So do all your people have powers like yours?"

"Oh no... mine are weak in comparison."

She didn't know why, but as he said this, she felt a shiver run down the length of her spine, and her mysterious dream of long ago of her meeting with her supposed Father filled her with great unease. What Kario was describing was so familiar...

"All demons can control minds. Your bible simply tells of falling to temptation or sinning. What they are really saying is that demons constantly whisper to humankind to tempt them. It's not an audible request, but rather the use of our powers to hypnotize and make others follow our suggestion."

"So that's what you did to Aran?"

"Yes..."

She had seen it for herself. That she could not deny. "So the fire... how did you do that?"

"That for me was more difficult, my dagger..." His hand strayed to the beautifully crafted weapon that was tucked into the broad sleeve of his robe. "It gives me the ability to perform such transmutations. However, I am rather clumsy at them. Like this..." He paused in his stride for a moment, appearing to concentrate. It was by now inky dark, and Aurianne could not make out the expression on his dark visage. Before her amazed eyes, a small bluish flame danced in the palm of his hand. Then it was gone in moments.

"That was a magician's trick!" Aurianne exclaimed with awe.

Kario chuckled in the darkness with a barely contained mirth. "How do you know those magicians were not demons, shape-shifted to appear as men?"

"Well, I... I... don't..." Finding that thought bothered her a little. "But the lion trick... You were not really a lion, were you? It was just something we were seeing like an illusion?"

"No, it is more than that. It is a reshaping on a metaphysical level. All demons can change their shapes at will, but again, some are more gifted than others. To begin with, I was not so skilled at shifting. But with time, I have become more adept. It's a dangerous thing to change into another form, and an immensely taxing exercise. Most demons can do it without thought, but not all choose to. Demonkind are actually very beautiful to look at. However, they like to fool with humans and appear at times as frightening apparitions."

"Like in scary films and dark paintings."

"Yes, the very same. Our two cultures are bound whether we like it or not..."

Kario then went quiet for a time, but Aurianne, like a hound scenting blood, had so many further questions.

"So you said you were banished here with nothing of your past but..." She pointed to the pretty blade that now sat snugly tucked into his sash, "Your mother left you here alone. How did you survive?"

"I was difficult, at times, I barely did. Always scavenging, hiding, and running. I was, for my obvious differences, an outcast wherever I went."

"Yes, I imagine being alone like that would have been terrible." Aurianne was thankful that she had not grown up a war orphan like so many others had.

"So why can't you return then? It's very obvious you want to."

"The King, who is the supreme power, forbids it, and now the way is closed to me."

"Oh... well, you would not want to anger him then..." Aurianne's voice descended to silence.

Her traveling companion had given her much to dwell on. Some of it was uncomfortable, as she revisited her own experiences and statements that her mother had made about her father in the past. There were, to her mind, some striking parallels.

*****

Over the next few days, many of the surviving defenders caught up to the slow-moving caravan. A group of farmers and their sons were the first to return. One by one, they staggered into the camp exhausted, falling onto the sand unable to walk any further. They had ridden their horses so hard that the animals had collapsed beneath them, and they had to walk the last few miles in the oppressive heat. They were gaunt, sunburned, and thirsty, and some of them were injured. After their wounds were tended to and they had slaked their thirst, the entire caravan congregated around them to hear of the events up north and ask about their loved ones.

Stephan listened to the recounting of the defense. They had all been so brave, and the fighting had been savage. He felt bereft on hearing of the many casualties; the numbers were far worse than he had anticipated. Guilt tugged at him as it often did in the wake of his decisions, he should have done something different. However, at that moment he had rescinded his leadership and left his people to founder, it was selfish of him. Their losses were also his, and they weighed hard on the old man as he listened to their stories. Those who had lost their relatives wept, knowing they would be unable to return to bury their dead.

It was to this grim setting that Dale and his party rode into the encampment that afternoon. Their approach hadn't been noticed as all ears were devouring the farmer's account of the battle.

Stephan turned to see his unconscious son swaying in the saddle, supported by Dale. Anna ran to her boy, and together she and Dale attempted to lay Renard in the shade on a blanket that he might be more comfortable and receive medical attention. The other arrivals drifted off to find their relatives and get a well-deserved rest, sustenance, and water.

Stephan sat with Dale and heartfeltly thanked him for saving his son. Dale smiled and told Stephan it was nothing. He would have rescued his best friend no matter what. "I know he wanted to tell you this... but..." Dale leaned forward and dropped his voice low for only the old man to hear. "I found him alone by the granary in a firefight with Victor Krosse and his soldiers. Except your son took a match to a gun fight."

Stephan caught Dale's earnest stare with his own, as recognition slowly dawned.

Dale sipped on his mug of water, which was cupped in both hands. The triumphant smile on his face lit up his eyes.

"So we didn't lose." The old man chuckled. "And Lothar got nothing." Stephan shook his head in wonderment, and a great satisfaction showed on his features. It was the first time he had truly smiled since their exodus.

Dale just nodded.

"Again, I am grateful, if there is ever anything I can do... I am forever in your debt."

*****

Later that same afternoon, Bryn and his riders showed up, they too exhausted on foundering horses. Just like the others, they painted a terrible picture of events, reinforcing that the losses had been high. Bryn's clan was missing over twelve men, and of course, Chi.

Anna trotted into camp alone just as the carts were being loaded for departure. Renard, who had not regained consciousness, was placed into Aurianne and Lissa's care on the dray she drove. Anna, with her blonde tousled hair and her face streaked by tears, ran into Bryn's large encircling arms, wordless and weeping. The short but solid man held her close to his chest and let her cry, stroking her gently as a father would comfort a child. Knowing that when she felt stronger, she would reveal to him what had befallen Chi.

They moved out as the darkness again began to descend over the desert. In the north, there was this evening a bevy of fast-moving steely clouds that portended possible rain. A tease in this place of dryness and relentless heat.

*****

Raissa, when faced with the plethora of wounded and suffering, had come forward to lend her expert healing skills to the cause. She was silent as she worked, but with deft and gentle hands, she had helped clean and bandage wounds, remove bullets and embedded arrowheads, soothe burns, and apply cool compresses to vicious bruising.

Maya and Lucy also assisted where they could. Though Maya mostly gravitated to the women who were grieving, and helped them with the care of their little ones. She wanted a baby of her own so badly. Even as a little girl, she had obsessed over her corn doll and its care, mothering it and taking it everywhere. She missed baby Eirik; she had always loved to think of him as her own. She hoped that one day she and Aran could also have a child. She would show it fierce love. But now Aran was again away in the desert doing as he said, 'something dangerous.' The only comfort she could have from that was that at least he was with his brother.

*****

Lissa sat at Renard's head, pressing a cool compress to his fevered brow. Sometimes she would bend forward to plant a light kiss on her beloved's forehead and whisper words of endearment and encouragement. The village Doctor, an older, experienced man who had, before the war, seen many years as a GP, had done the best he could with Renard's smashed knee. Now, all they could do was wait and hope it healed and that he would again have full use of it.

Lissa was inwardly afraid that Renard would never walk again, as she stared at her lover's distorted knee that was enshrouded in a white bandage that made it look even more malformed. She was grateful for his return, but feared the specter of his incompleteness.

*****

Jhary, leading the way, was often out front with his own thoughts for company. Tonight, with the dark clouds behind him on the horizon, he was thinking of Aurianne. He had noticed that she seemed to be spending an awful lot of time recently with Kario. He wondered why this was. It was hard for him, with his strong feelings that he carried for her, not to feel pangs of jealousy. Was Kario a rival for her affections? Would she really fall for a guy who was as mad as a snake? She seemed to believe many of the things he had said. Even as Jhary fervently denied they could be true.

He didn't want to lose his head or his heart to a woman who didn't see him. He often wondered if they could even work out. She was a warrior, lithe and strong. He was a coward who told grand tales but was very afraid to live them. Perhaps Jhary thought miserably as he strode south under the starry skies, she had no need of him at all.

*****

Bryn was torn when he finally could get some sense from Anna on Chi's fate. Captured, she had said, by his mortal enemy. He had so wished the hard-headed Chi would have listened to his warning. He and his men were exhausted. Many were injured, and some had been slain, their bodies left to the crows. He and his force were in no condition to mount a rescue; it would be impractical, and with every passing evening, they marched further south. Yet, the idea that he could not rescue her hurt him more with each passing day.

*****

The first waking sensation Renard had was the cloud of sweet-smelling chestnut hair covering his face like a veil. Accompanied by her voice. "Are you awake, my love?" Lissa's tone sounded pleadingly hopeful. All Renard could manage was the faintest trace of a nod, and as Lissa rained grateful kisses onto his face, his lips bore an upturned smile.

He had been better, of course. But she was here, and he would endure. He tried to tell her about the granary and how Lothar had been cheated of his prize. The words would not come; they remained lodged in this dry throat, and all that issued forth was a terrible rasping sound.

"Shush, my love. Rest." Followed by another peck on the brow. His eyes closed, and he gave himself over to healing sleep.