Avarice Desperation Valley

Crime and Punishment

Bennett woke early he was feeling much renewed, he was still mildly sore, nothing that a few days here of rest would not take care of. He called to Raissa as she was adding wood to the fire to make acacia tea. She came obediently and swiftly to him awaiting his command. “Shave me.” He requested and she set to doing so immediately. Many of the men asked her to do this very same duty for them daily, but Bennett rarely asked her to do anything of this nature and she felt very nervous so close to his personage. He exuded power and danger, and it made her very uncomfortable. This was usually Nathan’s task. Bennett wisely relieving him from this duty after the incident with the cat. In time he might trust his slave to resume it again, but he was not so blind as to risk his neck to a venomous sixteen year old boy no matter how pretty and weak he seemed.

The stint in fortress had changed the boy, and Bennett had seen how Nathan had dispatched the Captain in the prison via stealth, his delivery of death clumsy but very effective. The hard leader was unsure he still liked the idea having him around, and was seriously debating what he would do with him now the true object of his desire had returned. Nathan was proving surplus to requirement, but that was only one minor issue he must contend with, there were many more pressing ones than an almost useless slave boy who could not follow orders, or be trusted.

His grooming complete Bennett rose running his calloused hands over his now smooth face enjoying being clean, his first task was to seek out Aran that he might carefully tell him the news of his brother, a most sensitive matter. He had hoped Aran had not already discovered the full extent of this on his own. Bennett felt that he needed to pull the young warrior aside and explain all that had happened thoroughly and they could put in place some strategy to help preserve Sven’s dignity, that few here should know as possible. He owed that to his friend.

The day was bright and stark, the frosty nights that were the norm here always gave way to days like this. Not a breeze stirred and the little brown house sparrows chirped happily fluttering from one prickly haven to the next mindless of the treacherous thorns. The few remaining goats grazed the inaccessible slopes and leapt from one rocky shelf to another playfully. Bennett passed them by heading directly for Aran as he stood to the far side of the compound. One boot resting carelessly on the rusted bumper of the old truck that had died there. Its last duty had been to move the shipping containers in to the positions they now occupied in the founding days of this place. When there was still fuel and the men had ranged the desert in vehicles, murdering and plundering at will.

Aran heard the approach and turned to show the appropriate respect to his leader. The fact Bennett had been prepared to shoot him the evening before quite forgotten. “Sir, I am glad you are back.” He meant it, though his greeting was simple his tone was genuine. Bennett just nodded curtly in affirmation letting him continue. “I believe we have a few issues to discuss.” Aran went on. “ The stores are all but depleted, it seems those you trusted to the task were not up to the responsibility.”

Bennett rubbed his chin and stared at the earth absently pushing stones about in the dust with the toe of his large black boot, whilst he listened to the news. “But I learned something very vital in your absence...Ren... Renard, he confessed to me he is none other than the son of Stephan.”

“Yes, I know. Our captor Lothar told me himself.” Bennett shot back. “But how do you know all this?” Bennett’s icy eyes narrowing to gaze suspiciously at Aran this time. The blond warrior meeting his leader’s earnest gaze elaborated. Aran detailed all the events, Pig and Dwayne’s activities were exposed, as were the contents of Renard’s interrogation. Aran completely revoking his earlier promise to his prisoner that his final admissions would stay secret between Renard and himself.
“You have him here?” Bennett interjected.
“Yes,” Aran replied, “I figured you would have much use for the traitor?”
“Mmmm..... I do.” Bennett said absently. “I believe I do.”

Aran was about to continue, however Bennett raised his hand to stay his man’s next words. He needed to get his unpleasant mission over with. “I have something to show you.” Leading the way to the shipping container both Sven and Aran had taken up residence in, the two men went inside. Without ceremony Bennett flicked the blankets aside from the deeply sleeping man revealing Sven’s nakedness, and the full extent of his grotesque mutilation. Aran checked himself, his mouth hung slackly aghast. Bennett just stood respectfully silent letting Aran take it in.

“How... What happened?” His voice quavering and incredulous, pulling the blankets back to cover his brother’s shame, he could gaze on it no more. Bennett cleared his throat and quietly offered the answer.
“We were all imprisoned and tortured, your brother was singled out. He strangely had in his possession Lothar’s bride’s amulet. When he does wake I am most curious to know how he came by it?”

Bennett saw Aran flinch, he had a fair idea how Sven had ended up with the damming object in his possession, and Aran’s reaction only reinforced his hunch. “He was very brave and suffered for days before he broke. Looking at what they did to him I would have to guess that they never got their answer, because after that they began on me.”

Aran swallowed hard looking down on the pitiful form in the blanket, brutally aware his brother’s misfortune was his own doing. Frances’ unique necklace! Sven must have still had it in his possession, and had unwittingly become a natural focus for the Wolf Lord’s wrath. Aran wondered how he could ever have the courage to look Sven in the eye again knowing what he had done. Aran’s mind was swimming and it was hard to think coherently. Bennett was still talking to him, but he was no longer focused. Until he heard the name Frances spoken. The mention of the lovely woman’s name snatched his mind back to Bennett’s words which he had not absorbed, catching the remainder of the sentence.
“...Frances’ amulet. A futile search really, and it matters not, she is long dead, but we now have her brother as hostage.”

“Dead! What do you mean?” Aran questioned. This had been the first time he had heard Frances’ name spoken aloud in weeks. Given the tangent the conversation was taking Aran cast aside his caution, he may as well just ask up front what exactly had happened to her. Yet part of him really did not wish the answer.

Bennett just smiled one of his cold, unforgiving smiles full of sadistic gloating. Aran’s anger flared, his emotion so strong he could not form the words to frame his question. He did not appreciate being made sport of even by someone who was clearly his superior. Bennett was unruffled, though he had not meant for such sensitive information to slip, it had been careless of him, and he attempted to close the subject by turning away and leaving the cabin. Unrelenting and scenting foul play Aran was not prepared to let the matter of Frances’ fate lie. A lesser man would have taken Bennett’s signal to desist with this line of questioning, but the man with his back turned to him owed him an explanation.

“What happened to her!” Aran said all too loudly as he followed like a dog scenting blood, but this was no rabbit being cornered, this was a dire bear. Bennett paused a few feet away from the cabin, he did not move his great body, planting his feet wide and turning his head only to look over his black clad shoulder. He laughed an uneasy laugh, it would have chilled most and stopped them in their tracks. Aran still came on regardless. He was fully impassioned in his anger, it was his flaw not to know when to let things lie, and had repeatedly undone him numerous times in the past. He was almost equivalent in size to Bennett only and inch or so shorter in stature, endowed with a body just as powerful. Aran glowered, his green eyes locking directly on Bennett’s own cold ones.

“If you must know she’s dead. I killed her, she was too much trouble.” Coupled with yet another goading laugh, and Bennett turned away from Aran as he would from a woman or a child, as though he was literally of no importance.

Lucy, Warren, and Raissa had been in the compound’s center curing hides, the majority of them rabbits and goats. The cold was here and they wanted to have a plentiful supply of warm garments, and bedding this winter. They all looked up in unison hearing the loud exchange of words and paused in their work. So too did Father Andrew and simple Marcus who were tilling the dusty corn patch. High above Selene appeared as though she had been called, she had become a rare sight in the rocky overhangs of late and had not ventured into the cave for many weeks. It was as though she had shunned this ragged band of humanity.

Aran felt a compelling rush of anger like none he had ever experienced before. That ass had lied to him, lied to them all! Murdered a defenseless woman because she was an inconvenience! It did not matter that most of the warriors in this clan had raped and killed women on numerous occasions. Aran was just as guilty of these crimes, but his trespass was conveniently forgotten. Love and passion coupled with possession slanted his sense of self righteousness. With no care for the outcome or the penalty for breaking the hierarchy, he attacked his leader viciously. Bennett felt the full force of the man as he collided into his retreating back, he had not expected Aran would have been foolish enough to attack. Bennett swung about, his right fist connecting with Aran’s furious visage hard, but the blond giant was so enraged he did not falter, returning some equally hard blows of his own.

Most of the population had by now noticed the disturbance in their midst, the dull thud of fists on flesh unmistakable. Gareth stood on the verge of the cave watching the two very equally matched giants beat on one another. It was the classic fist fight, neither man going for a weapon though they both had them tucked in to their belts, and could well elect to use them at any time.

The bare chested Aran was already bleeding from the nose and the wounds of last night newly aggravated had begun to seep through the bandages. Bennett had fared better, his leather jacket some protection from the savage onslaught, but already he had been cut badly over the right eye and it was hampering his vision. Aran was beyond care, something in him had broken loose and he found himself hammering his opponent hard repeatedly getting in under his guard, the gold on his fingers made his hands weapons and he was doing far more damage to Bennett than he was taking himself. Bennett might be leadership material, but Aran felt he was every bit equal to the man in fighting prowess and he would prove it today in front of everyone. Driven by this he pressed on mercilessly raining blows at the object of his passionate revenge. Every one for Frances, yes all for her.

He was torn from his thoughts by sudden savage pain so strong it made bile rise in his throat. Bennett had played underhandedly focusing now on the wounds on his torso, fingers digging mercilessly at the torn flesh as the bandages fell away. If Bennett had hoped to halt Aran with his underhanded tactics he was mistaken, incensed still further Aran roared and commenced an even more powerful barrage of blows, Bennett seemed stunned it appeared to all he was failing.

Gareth was not watching this anymore, it had gone far enough, unity would not be maintained with displays such as this. Will, and Sean were close behind him as he rushed toward the fighting men, who were blind to all but one another. Bennett was staggering but still upright his punches failing to land almost blinded. Aran was like a lion sensing his quarry spent and was readying for the final victorious blow.

The heavy net sailed through the air enveloping Aran completely, made for just this purpose its weighted ends hit the earth fast and he was hopelessly entangled a ball of fighting fury. Will and Sean pulled the flailing man down, he fell heavily to the dry sand furious and struggling profusely. It did him little good, both weary from the battle and his injuries of the previous night he was easily subdued, a humiliating end to his unabashed anger.

Bennett still stood, but barely. Gareth was close by silent, his leader still had the presence to thank his men for the timely intervention with a twisted smile. That was close, too close Bennett ruminated. Eyes clouded with his own blood he looked down on the great man breathing hard at his feet on the sand, the sight galvanizing him that he must lay down the law here today harshly.


Carlos was choking, Bennett’s hand on his throat cutting off his airway. He was gasping in ragged succession fighting for air, unable to move though he could not rightly understand why. The dream was so terrible and so real he was compelled to wake, only to more panic. Finding he could not see, the smell of old leather filled his lungs, the stout hand on his airway nothing more than the restrictive leather hood laced tight about his throat that Bennett had not made him wear in years.

His head was pounding, and at this point he was grateful he could not see the morning light. The hood brought back memories of his initial capture when he was not much older than Nathan had been. He had worn the dreaded thing for months while Bennett had methodically attempted to break him. It had been the worst of times. He lay still, sensing his surroundings, this was as bad as it could get, he was despondent to his core. He could feel the hardness of metal under him, he assumed he was in Bennett's cabin. Ankles and wrists tightly secured, he longed to move freely, he was still clothed. He sighed, closed his eyes and felt the pall of despair wash over him.


The watch had been scaled back to just one man, Bennett had sent Gareth to do this because out of all the inhabitants here Bennett felt he was the only one who did not need to be present this afternoon. The gathering shuffled nervously awaiting their leader’s pleasure, many there were inwardly afraid. The black leather clad man stood in the cave’s entrance, his ragged tribe assembled before him, Aran in chains flanked by Todd and Will, glowering at the ground.

“Things of late have been lax here.” His authoritative voice rang out. “This will change from NOW!” Many cringed openly. “It is most obvious that many here are on their own agendas, and survival here depends on us working as a group.” He eyed the warriors particularly as he said this, his cut face making him look even more fierce and dangerous than he already was. Dwayne and Pig looked furtively at one another, an action that was not missed by Bennett. He looked straight at them both, deciding to cut to the punishments immediately. He was never one to mess about.

“Pig!” The ugly man looked stunned, his face ashen. “You will be sentenced to one hundred and fifty lashes to be taken on your back with the bull whip, for your lack of care with the provisions in my absence, and you will do permanent nightly watch until I say otherwise.” Bennett paused. “This will be carried out this afternoon and all here will watch.” There was a vague murmur from the crowd but they quieted swiftly there would be more punishments to follow.

“Dwayne, it has been relayed to me you were also implicated in the abuse of the stores, as you were not the main instigator and followed Pig blindly you will take seventy-five lashes in the same manner, and you too will be on permanent night watch.” Dwayne swallowed and cast his gaze at the ground his shoulders slumping. “You have both seriously impacted the lives of everyone in this camp, and if I had more able bodied warriors at my disposal your punishment would have been much greater. Consider yourselves lucky.”

The ruthless leader shifted his weight from one foot to the other and resumed his address. “There has been much dissidence here of late and it has to stop. If we are to survive here I will remind you all we must be a cohesive group. Everyone must know their place...” He let his words sink in as his eyes alighted on Aran, who was the only one there not looking at him.

There was an audible gasp from the group as Bennett saw this and crossed the hard stone at the forefront of the cave toward the insolent warrior, removing his blade from his boot and pressing the pommel of it hard up under Aran’s stubbled chin, forcing him to look at him. Aran was resolute, his acrimonious green eyes met Bennett’s pastel blue ones, both men knowing Aran would have won this day. It was a shock to them both, Bennett finding his voice finally.
“The infraction of a warrior against his leader is an even more serious matter. Especially one who I would number amongst my elite. This requires a more serious punishment. I was considering this man...” He pushed the hilt of his weapon hard against the disgraced warrior’s chin. “Or Gareth, to assume the second in command until Sven has recovered enough to resume or decline it. “So I choose Gareth as my new second, to take all the privileges and responsibilities that come with this position.”

Another lengthy silence, though no one was surprised at the promotion. Bennett again turned back to Aran, a lone crow cried somewhere unseen overhead lost in the blue. “You Aran will be sentenced to three hundred lashes of the bull whip to the back, no mercy will be given.” The crowd all exclaimed as they heard the severity of the sentence, three hundred lashes had the capability of killing a man. Everyone there knew it. “Should you survive, you will be incarcerated in the hole to await my pleasure. Let the sentences be carried out, and may this be a lesson to you all as to what happens to those who do not have the community at heart in their actions.”

The crowd dispersed as the three men were escorted to the place of punishment located just off of the fallow vegetable garden. It had been a very long time since it had last been used, the tall eight by eight inch oak post deeply embedded in the ground with the strong iron ring attached to the top. Such a simple device.

Dwayne and Pig went to the whipping post meekly. It would go worse if they fought, both wise enough to know if they obeyed they stood a good chance of clemency should the beating become too much of an ordeal. Fight it and the full sentence would surely be applied. Aran also did not fight, but would not be pushed or rushed either knowing he could expect no quarter or mercy.

Clint stepped up to do the unsavory duty, the black plaited bullwhip in hand. It was a grim day indeed to punish so many of their own number. Pig only made ninety lashes before Bennett stopped the proceedings and Dwayne cried like a baby barely taking fifty. Both men lacerated long before the fortieth stroke, but Pig and Dwayne’s pain had only been an appetizer for the real event to come.

Aran was led to the post, the chains on his wrists hoisted through the ring at the top, his golden hair pushed aside, broad back rippling with muscle presenting a fine target. Todd made ready for the first swing, Bennett halting him, motioning him aside and taking up the ugly black serpent himself. Raissa looked away she could not watch this. Most there very uncomfortable to see this justice dealt. The flogging was delivered in merciless fashion, each well timed stroke deliberate, hard, and methodical. Aran reached the one-hundredth one still maintaining his silence, already his back savagely torn, Bennett pressed on.

By the two-hundredth stroke Aran was no longer silent but still fighting to maintain composure, his back bleeding profusely now, blood flying with every crack of the whip, spattering the onlookers and dripping from Bennett’s hand as he drew the sinuous leather through for yet another strike. The grunts became desperate yelps by the two-twenty mark. The big man sagging now, pulling down hard on his manacled wrists as his legs failed beneath him. Fifty strokes from the finish the gathering gasped as Aran fainted, his full weight tearing at his wrists in the confining steel bracelets. Unperturbed Bennett called for water, icy cold from the well, it brought the failing man back to consciousness, being applied every time he faltered until he reached the magic three hundred mark, the sentence complete.

Bennett stepped toward the object of his discipline pulling Aran’s head back by the ample wheaten hair, that all assembled might see the man’s face. “Be warned there will be no more dissidence in this camp. Salt his back and put him in the hole.” He let Aran’s head fall it made a loud thunk against the oak post, and strode toward the cave thirsty after his exertion. Those in the cave could hear the tortured cries as the salt was applied, and Aran was dragged away. It had been a sobering afternoon.

As the sun was dwindling to shadows as Bennett made his way to his cabin, he was happy with the news Sven had stirred today and taken some nourishment. He had asked Gareth to stay close by as he was the only other warrior who knew what had been done to him, and was concerned his old friend would not take his situation too well once his senses began to return.

Pulling the steel doors almost shut but not enough to close out the last of the afternoon light he gazed on the captive who graced the floor before him, supine and helpless. He saw the man go very still as he entered and just stood there for a time looking on that which had had not figured to see again. At last he did speak to his prisoner in a soft voice as he got down on to the floor and began unlacing the hood. “You make this hard on yourself my sweet.” Carlos shuddered at the touch and the words, but was grateful to at last have the restrictive hood removed, his head still ached, but the pain was subsiding. “I could have let him kill you, but that would have been a waste. Though it would appear you have more lives than a cat.”

Bennett still not understanding how this man had managed to thwart a deadly snake bite. Carlos sighed, not looking at his nemesis, if only he had of let Aran do so. His face so close the steel capped boots as to render them out of focus, he heard the rasp of steel sliding over leather and the slosh of water in an enamel vessel. Large hands then pulled at his long dark hair and to his horror he saw it landing in clumps before his face on the dusty metal floor. Aware now Bennett was intending to divest him of it completely.

He swallowed and shifted marginally, Bennett’s presence menacing behind his prone back, and felt the cold straight blade on his scalp along with soap and water. “This will make it easier on you.” Was all he said. Proceeding to shave every last scrap of his lustrous raven hair from his head with great efficiency. Lust in his voice Bennett admired his property. “You are still beautiful boy, hair or no hair.” The task completed the hood was returned, struggling was futile, Carlos could not avoid Bennett’s plans.

There were sounds of various items being righted about him and a chair scraping along the floor, the creak of leather betrayed the fact Bennett had sat down close by. He heard the man intake a large breath and expel it before he began to again resume in a soft voice. “Here's how it is. I have been too soft on you. I can see that now. We will have to begin over.” Carlos winced, Bennett caught it and smiled. Carlos knew exactly what this man was referring to, it would be a far from pleasant experience. “When you learn to behave more like a human being and less like a wild animal I shall treat you differently, but if this is how you want it I am quite content to keep you all your remaining days in this manner. It will be yours to choose?” Bennett rose slowly, pushing a black boot into Carlos’s side making to leave. “You will learn, eventually...” The words had a foreboding ring, for this brutal man indeed did have all the time in the world.

Aran sat in the dankness of the pit smelling naught but his own vomit, right now he wanted to give up and die. Eyes closed, slumped forward, as to not press his back against anything he wondered how he would make the next few hours, never mind the rest of his sentence.

Somewhere during the long night he did sleep for a short time and was presented with the strangest disjointed dreams, bordering on nightmares. That little wild girl was in them the one who inhabited the caves, he could not remember her name, did she even have one? He could not recall. The entire dream fanciful as it was mostly lost to him, but he did vividly recollect the sequence where he was in some kind of underground cavern, and there were hot springs. It was like no place he had ever been. There was a greenish cistern before him it seemed to glow with some nameless iridescent light, and the strangest of symbols scratched into the rock on the floor surrounding it. The girl was there, and she was talking to him, and there was a weapon, a large two handed broadsword down in the pond’s depths.

Searing pain brought him shuddering back to reality, he yelped, the cry echoing off the imprisoning walls as he had lain back against the rough hewn wall accidentally in his sleep, eliciting pain, fiery hot, and icy all at the same time.