Avarice Desperation Valley

Maya

The days were drawing out and the weather was growing warm, the frosty nights were now gone giving way to mild balmy ones, the relentless barrage of summer fast on the heels of the short spring. The precious corn and the squash had been sown and were just beginning to break the soil, presenting from the vivid orange sand in neat rows of vibrant green. Marcus and Father Andrew now also accompanied by Nathan had their work cut out to ensure the valuable crops survival. With weeding, watering, and pest control a high priority, if these crops were to fail, they would all be forced to survive on meat alone.

Aran, Bennett, Will, Gareth and lastly Dwayne had spent the afternoon preparing to move out. Sven had elected to stay behind and rule in Bennett’s stead, a wise decision after the last misappropriation of the stores. The five man party had decided to scout a possible small settlement to the west within an easy two days ride. Many of the warriors who were to remain behind had been eager to go as well and felt great disappointment, only those who had mastered riding and using weapons proficiently from horseback were chosen. This small foray had to count, to fail this time would mean intolerable hardship they may never rise from.

Raissa watched the men depart, the horses and mules gingerly picking their way along the treacherous incline. Aran in the lead on the spirited grey mare, she was tossing her head wildly wanting to run. Bennett just behind him heavily armed on the large hunter, followed by Gareth on Renard’s mount, and Dwayne and Will relegated to the mules. She sighed and commenced to fill the water vessels, her work never done, happy at least she would be spared a few evenings of Aran’s unwanted attentions.

The men rode in silence across the sparse sands tracking to the northwest, each man’s thoughts his own. Aran was very vigilant, constantly scanning the horizon, fighting against his fretting mare who desired free reign. They rode this way through the remainder of the afternoon the spectacular finale of the setting sun fiery red in their eyes.

The party reached the hidden haven of the oasis just before midnight, emerging from the narrow canyon into a hidden cradle of lush life. They carried plenty of rations so there was no need to hunt, setting up camp quickly and freeing the horses, letting them drink and graze in the fertile clearing. They could have indulged in a fire without detection, but it was late and the warmth of the day still lingered in this cloistered hollow. The moon hung in the sky far overhead, a gleaming silver disk on a bed of black velvet. Crickets and frogs chirped, the breeze stirred the leaves on the evergreens in a collective sigh. The heady scent of honey from the blossoms hung in the night air. To this magical night music the men slept deeply until the first rays of dawn.


The birds woke them in a crescendo of sound, even if this place was hidden from most humans, like a rare jewel the feathered hordes knew its exact location, swarming to the cold deep pool every dawn and dusk. The men broke camp each checking their weapons one last time, and left the sanctity of the oasis for the desert above. The raiders pushed west.

The day was uncharacteristically warm for this early in spring and they found they had to go easy on the horses, the mules fared better. At midday there came into plain view the unmistakable wisps of smoke curling lazily skyward. The men circling closer mindful to stay downwind on the off chance there may be dogs about. The topography of the area favored their approach with a tract of tough mallee scrub where they could conceal themselves on the south side of the rudimentary settlement. The men dismounted chancing the horses may be spotted or worse stolen, but with only five in their force they did not have the luxury of a warrior to spare.

The remainder of the day was spent in silent observation of their quarry. There was a collection of mean little dwellings built in a circular arrangement obviously about a central well. These rough huts were made mostly of salvage, old corrugated iron, and whatever else could be found and implemented for the purpose. There were numerous young children playing in the dust outside, a few women and men, and no elderly occupants they could see. There appeared to be a couple of haggard chestnut horses, heads down, occasionally shaking the biting flies from their dowdy coats, some chickens, and a few straggling cattle, but naught else of worth could they determine. The men did not expect much from this but sport and some moderate prizes, but the idea they were on the hunt again quickened their blood.

They waited patiently until late at night before making their strike, crossing the hard packed earth silently, to hide in the shadows of the shoddy huts. The occupants were asleep and nothing stirred, the encampment so poor there was not even a single dog to stand guard. The desert night was far from dark with the high waning moon lighting the compound, this would not have been traditionally the ideal night for this endeavor. Aran could hear the unmistakable sound of steel sliding over well oiled leather spotting Bennett loosing his machete from its scabbard, his own dagger followed suit. Recalling again as he had many times the sword of his strange dream, and setting for the reality of his sturdy poignard with an almost inaudible sigh. A cow lowed and all the men stiffened in the shadows, then on Bennett’s signal all hell erupted.

The entire compound exploded in a sea of confusion, many did not escape from the huts, slain where they slept. Each warrior had entered one of the ramshackle houses slaughtering the majority of its occupants with ruthless efficiency, man, woman, and child; none were spared the blade.

Aran’s assignment did not go so well. The door was not locked and opened soundlessly inward, dying embers in the hearth, the room was warm, smelling of smoke, cooking, and humanity. The warrior with little time to pick his mark in the blackness. Through the small window the shafts of wan light streaked in illuminating the sleeping woman’s hair as it cascaded like a silver river over the bed covers. Aran lunged forward like a lion sharp blade puncturing her soft throat. The woman screamed in her death throes alerting her sleeping husband long before Aran could silence her. The adult male slipping past him and rounding on him with a pitch fork.

Cursing his selection of a dagger, Aran felt the implement rake his chest and decided it would be far better to lure the man outside into the light than battle him in the familiarity of his own home. The man sensing this was attempting to stop the invader from reaching his goal, getting in between his assailant and the open doorway. For a simple farmer this man could fight extraordinarily well. Aran having to use all his effort to stop from being impaled with the fork, finding it impossible to breach the man’s guard to get anywhere near him with the knife. This was fast becoming a desperate battle, the man was as large and as strong as Aran was, and clearly not going to go down easily if at all. The young warrior began casting about in the gloom for any object he might use to halt his attacker, it was essential he got past him to the door. The tines of the fork too close to his face for comfort, the man relentless in his attack.

However Aran was swifter, and he seized his chance spraying the man with the dying coals from a half burnt log in the fireplace. The man yelled, lost his momentum and Aran crouched and rolled clean by him out into the light. A gun shot rang out clearly above the confusion and slaughter, followed by more, they were already cleaning up fleeing survivors.

Aran with the man pursuing him possessed of all the fury of a demon, was desperately embattled. He tried to get under the farmer’s weapon to disembowel him, feeling the hot pain of his error, the fork’s tines passing down the length of his back. In that terrible second Aran knew he had made an awful mistake and braced himself to feel the force of the steel implement pierce his heart through from behind. He would die, face to the earth never to lay eyes on his victorious opponent. There was a loud shot from somewhere close by and the next thing he was aware of was the fork clattering to the ground and the thud of a heavy body hitting dirt, followed by cynical laughter. Bennett stood tall above him, .45 in hand. “Now we are even.” Was all he said, as he turned to finish off the last of the survivors.

Aran regained his composure dusting himself off, it had been a long time since he had fought one who had given him such a close fight. He put a boot into the large man’s side rolling him over that he might see this stranger better who had come so very close to besting him.

He was not ready when a small form shot from the doorway of the now burning hut, shrouded in a dark hooded cape, to bury its face in the deceased man’s chest sobbing wildly. The hood fell away to reveal a mop of long light blond hair, bright in the moonlight. Aran fingered his knife and hearing boots on gravel looked up to see Bennett advancing on the small survivor .45 drawn. “NO!” Said Aran positioning himself in the firing line of the pistol. Bennett sniggered and tucked the snub nosed weapon into his belt walking away.

The sounds of the massacre had died, the cold stars looking down on this deed as they had watched since time immemorial with neither compassion or accusation. The man’s whelp Aran mused, he hated killing children but it was for the best as he had already murdered its parents, it would only die, it was the most merciful thing to do.

Bending down to grasp the small individuals cape, there was a gasp of fear and more incoherent crying as he hauled the diminutive form to its feet that he might see better before he put it out of its misery. The over sized cloak fell away, and to Aran’s surprise and delight he beheld a petite young woman. She shook in his grasp but did not fight him seemingly resigned to her fate.

Her appealing heart shaped face was stained with tears, framed in long straight hair. She looked at him with large gray eyes part filled with fear and awe, skin white and unspoiled by the desert. Aran ran his hands over her tiny breasts his gold rings cold on her hot flesh, she stood confused and still, quietly sobbing, eyes returning to the dead man on the ground. The blond warrior crouched down before her his hands on both sides of her face forcing the girl to look at him, and he looked long at her, from somewhere he heard Dwayne laugh and Will telling him to shut it. The two men were making a fire in the center of the village so they might wait until dawn to thoroughly ransack the place. Gareth and Bennett had gone to procure the horses.

“What is your name?” Aran asked quietly, his voice was gentle but his countenance ferocious in the growing firelight of the now fiercely burning hovel. The girl sniffled trying hard to control her tears.
“Maya.” She offered in barely a whisper. Aran pulled the cloak back about her slight shoulders covering her from the eyes of the other men and directing her toward the fire.

They spent the remainder of the night resting by the bonfire, feeding it on the broken furnishings from the houses. The horses all drank thirstily the water drawn from the well, and the men tended to their minor wounds as they waited for the ascent of the sun to pronounce the dawn.

The first pale light flooded the eastern sky and the men roused themselves to gather any worthwhile loot. The two horses newly captured were haltered, tethered to one another, and the cattle as well. The sorry buildings ransacked of anything useful, the ill gotten goods piled on to the backs of the captured horses. There was not much of real value to be had. These people had lived simply in this place barely eking out an existence against the desert and her whims. Aran put Maya before him on his saddle, and the jubilant men rode away leaving the crows to feast on the carrion of their leavings.

Maya sat very still in front of the fierce man who had fought her father and murdered her mother. Her situation felt surreal. The dark rough fabric of the cape scratched at her skin and was becoming overly warm in the desert sun, but she buried herself in it regardless. The familial scent of her mother in its folds, all she had to hold on to. The girl who was barely a woman studied the warriors strong hands as he held the reigns of his horse, arms encircling her. Not the hands of a simple farmer as her father had been, they were tanned and strong, so much bigger than hers, bearing many small, light scars.

The slight girl could not snatch her eyes away from the beautiful collection of gold rings he wore on each of his fingers. Some plain, some adorned, set with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, many of considerable size. Maya had never seen anything more beautiful. This man must be very wealthy she thought, her mother had only had one plain gold ring and a simple necklace, and they had been considered a great treasure in her village. She slumped against her captors great chest, it had been a frightening and exhausting night and the warmth was making her drowsy, there would be time to dwell on the uncertain future later.

They reached the shelter of the oasis by mid afternoon. The shade of the dark evergreens was most welcome. Maya was jolted awake as the horse halted, and for a moment confused as to her current reality. Aran laughed seeing her fear, pulling her down from his tired mount and unsaddling the animal. Maya just stood cape clasped tightly to her in a defensive pose.

The men unloaded all the animals freeing them to graze and drink. The place was so abundant there was no fear the precious livestock would stray too far. Will had already settled down to rest, his head pillowed on his saddle eyes closed. Dwayne had decided to spear fish in the well stocked body of water, fish would be a welcome change in the diet. Bennett and Gareth sat cleaning the clotted blood from their weapons, and talking of the raid.

Aran was hot, the sweat and dust of the long ride trickling down his back and sticking to his hair, the cool green waters looked inviting. “Come.” He commanded Maya. Startled she followed hesitantly a few feet behind, fearful to obey and just as fearful not to. The massive warrior was leading her away from the others and out of sight to the far side of the pond.

There was the sound of rushing water, the underground spring that fed this oasis pulsing up through the rock strongly from some hidden subterranean supply. Maya paused on the edge of the little clearing uncertain and afraid. She understood vaguely what was required of a woman but as yet it was still an abstract kind of thought. Her mother had explained these mysteries to her, but she had many curiosities yet unsettled.

She had spoken of these feelings with her two best friends in her village as they hid in the mill shed fantasizing about boys whenever they could slip away unnoticed from their chores. Maya thought of her two friends, where were they now? She hated to know, pulling her mother’s cloak tighter about her.

She watched the beautifully made warrior undress, and although she had seen many people in her village naked in her lifetime she had never beheld a man like this one before. He was not like her father, or her friend’s brothers, he was fierce and frightening and she wanted nothing more than to flee.

Caught on the cusp of this thought she jumped at the man’s voice. “Here girl.” She crept unsteadily toward him feeling nothing but dread, her trepidation not at all allayed by the handsome man’s smile. He pulled the bulky cloak from her in one deft movement laughing at her reaction as she tried to cover her nudity with her hands. The comforting garment sailed away into the brush beyond the sandy shoreline. Maya eyed it longingly, tears welling in her gray eyes the man pulling her hands down to her sides that he might see her better and leading her into the water. At least here she felt less self conscious though the pond was icy cold and she was shivering in no time.

Aran was glad to wash the sweat and the dirt of the journey away in the ice waters of the deep pool. It was very invigorating. Thus cleansed he left the water and lay naked on a large flat rock letting the sun warm and dry him. Maya shivered she did not know what was worse, to stay here and be cold or let the frightening predatory man look at her.

Aran laughed at her discomfiture letting the young girl suffer her own mental argument for as long as she chose. Finally the bite of the cold water became too much for Maya to bear and she left the modesty of the pond. Heading for the safety of her mother’s cape, but was halted by the warrior’s voice just before she could reach it. “No, come here.” He called to her.

She hesitated, wanting nothing more than to wrap herself in the cape and run away, but sense stopped her, after all she was pretty sure she had been the only one spared in her village. The visions of the fire consuming her home, and the running blood of last night strong in her mind, nauseating her. Maya knew this man had meant to kill her but had spared her only because he had found her pleasing. “Come here.” He called again this time sounding irritated. Resignedly she turned toward him her white skin beaded with water, nipples erect from the cold. Slowly she covered the few feet toward him and knelt dutifully on the warm flat stone head bowed.

Aran looked closely at the young woman, her long straight hair fell down from her central part to her slender waist, yes she was appealing. Was it really wrong to want her, even if he had slaughtered her family? Aran deliberated, toying with his conscience. This was no longer the suburban world of niceties he and his brother had grown up in. As a young boy he had been told in that world before the war many things were wrong. The same things he and his companions now did on a regular basis, so really were they? She was pretty, innocent, uncomplicated, and best of all unsullied. Now she was his to do with as he pleased.

Maya stiffened suffering the warrior’s caress on her cold skin, his hands felt like fire. Something primal and deep inside her was compelling her to flee, she did not like the animalistic look in the man’s vibrant green eyes and found she could not look at him anymore. She shut her eyes tightly and willed herself far away as his hands wandered the contours of her womanhood.

He held her pressed tightly against him, every part of his body hard like stone, his breath hot on her exposed neck, the man biting her gently inciting feelings she was ill equipped to understand. She shuddered and panicked as he unexpectedly pushed his bejeweled finger into her wet tightness, holding her immobile, letting her virginal body grow accustomed to his initial invasion.

She was crying now and trying to push away, but Aran was intent on finishing what he had started not caring in the least for the girl’s feelings. Maya cried out, sure she was being torn apart and damaged beyond repair, white hot pain as Aran entered her roughly. This was more than Maya could bear, scratching at him like a wild thing cornered, pulling at his hair, anything to make him stop or even pause in his unyielding assault. Lust blinded the resolute warrior as it always did, he saw no reason to stop that which was natural to him, holding the woman firm riding the waves of his desire to its finale.

Aran Looked down at the sobbing young woman who cried piteously at his feet, feeling vastly disappointed in his taking of the girl’s virginity, the warrior sure it should have been something more. Little Maya was nothing like the Selene of his dream, she was just a frightened little girl so very ordinary and afraid.

Aran and Maya returned to the camp, the bluish smoke rising thinly into the air as the last light faded, the smell of delicious baked fish hung on the air. Maya sat some distance from the men, huddled forlornly in the cape, lost and confused. It did not help matters that most of the men laughed at her and shot her glances very akin to the ones the blond warrior had this afternoon, except for the one with the shaven head who appeared to not notice her at all. This was most certainly nothing like the stories her mother had told her relations with a man would be, not once did she feel loved, safe, or special.

Aran feasted on the delicate white fish avoiding the treacherous bones, he had not eaten such fare in a very long while and could not get enough of this exotic meat. Washing it down with some crude white wine that was closer to vinegar than a beverage, spoils appropriated from the village. He offered some of the food to the dejected girl, but she just shrunk away from him and refused to eat at all. She will come around he thought a slight smile playing on his lips, and maybe even learn the art of pleasing him given time.


The following day the five men returned to a jubilant reception, all had been quiet in the raiding parties absence. The few spoils were divided amongst the warriors, they now had two more horses, a cow which gave some milk, two more steers for slaughter, and even a handful of chickens, the eggs being much prized.

On his return Aran found many eyes coveting his captive prize, he was careful to insist Maya stay near him or the protection of his brother at all times. She now shared the small domicile with Raissa and Sven when Aran did not require her presence, there she would be quite safe.

Maya was a woman of pure heart, and a joy to have in the camp. The girl bore no malice toward anyone, gravitating to Raissa almost from the first. Both had been raised in a similar fashion, though Maya was truly an inhabitant of this new age remembering nothing much of life before the conflict that had torn the fabric of society apart. For that reason she adapted quickly and accepted her lot in this place, thriving even.

She loved little Eirik almost as much as his own natural mother did, helping care for the boy, and the two became fast friends. Maya proved to be a very valuable asset, though she was but sixteen she could sew beautifully and was by far the best seamstress in the entire camp. Lucy and Raissa’s handiwork was crude by comparison, and the other three women could barely make anything of use at all. The girl crafted for her Lord a magnificent cape of numerous rabbit skins that swept to the ground behind the man, with a great hood. Aran was awed with her creation and even though it was now far too warm for such a garment he could see it would be most welcome for the frigid desert nights.

In return he gifted her a small gold necklace from the jumble of gleaming metal about his large neck. Maya was wide eyed at his gift, feeling very special, her gray eyes holding no emotion back, her lower lip quivering as she bit at it with her teeth. Aran placed it about her petite neck, the fine chain bearing a small letter A. “That now means you are mine, the A is for my name, Aran.” He explained, his large finger poking at her chest. Never had she been given anything so pretty or valuable.

Maya took him at his word, she had never learned to read or write and she fondled the little amulet, looking coyly at him as she had recently taken to doing. Aran had noticed the subtle changes in her demeanor, she was no Frances the sophisticated beauty, or Selene, woman child of his dreaming, but little Maya was very real and becoming more eager to please him every day, the warrior most happy he had let her live.

Maya played the game, her old life was gone difficult as it was, this would now be her new one. She sensed rightly it was possible to play this man for her benefit sometimes, big and fierce though he was. He was one of the most powerful men here and could easily protect her from the others.

She had learned very swiftly if she grew careless she stood to be molested by the lesser warriors of this camp. They watched her like slavering wolves, and she had already run a few very close calls. That prospect frightened her as did the idea the blond warrior would grow bored with her and discard her to the rabble. Maya trying to learn the art of what pleased him as swiftly as possible, taking note of some of the women's inappropriate reactions to the men's advances and trying not to emulate them. Using practical things like her abilities at sewing, and letting him touch her without pulling away even if she did not like it.

Though of late Maya had begun to enjoy the man’s attentions and she found he did not hurt her like he had the first time. Curiously she had even begun to hunger to have him in her, discovering it was all too easy to tempt him away from whatever he was doing. Maya liked the idea that she had this power over such a big strong man. Perhaps this was what her mother was telling her of, and maybe it was not so bad after all?