Avarice Desperation Valley

Reunion

Renard had taken up position on the watch outside the settlement's walls willingly, his exceptional abilities as a marksman meant he was an obvious selection for this duty. He sat now in the dark, a thin gray woolen blanket draped around his shoulders, providing little warmth, as he watched the lights being slowly extinguished below him. Waiting for the majority of the inhabitants in the settlement below to settle down to sleep. Renard’s next move would entail some element of risk, but thus far he had done exceedingly well. Knowing in all probability none would be any the wiser if he vacated his post, and he would have plentiful time until he would have to return, as dawn was still some hours distant.

He slipped the blanket reluctantly from his shoulders, shuddering with the accompanying chill, grabbed his Winchester and bow, scanning the horizon to be doubly sure that none would witness his defection, making his way soundlessly over the familiar terrain of his boyhood days, toward the northern most watch post. Remaining in the shadows to avoid being spotted, cursing the new moon and the clouds overhead that frequently broke, allowing the feeble light to spill through. Renard would normally not have chosen a night such as this for this risky endeavor, but he had to speak with his father without further delay. All he could hope was that he would not be seen by the wrong watchman.

He waited for some time in the shadows of a stunted clump of trees just beyond the northern entry point. A pair of plovers circled high above him their eerie mournful cries jarring his nerves. Still he waited, motionless, taking in the north wall, counting all the individuals manning the watch. His apprehension greatly alleviated, as he could make out only two, and as he had rightly guessed most of the men would be on the settlement's southern side defenses, awaiting Lothar's impending attack.

Renard took a deep breath and muttered a prayer, he would need some luck here and all the stealth he possessed. The clouds again lifting, the moon shining through, and he had at least one hundred feet of clearing to navigate until he made the safety of the wall. And make the wall undetected he did much to his nervous relief, for it seemed an eternity to cross the lighted clearing, so sure at any moment the sentries would spot him, or perhaps instead he might just feel the tearing shaft of a barbed arrow in his back. From here Renard sidled along the palisade wall closing on the gate and the two men who stood there, spears in hand making conversation in low voices. The young man's eyes feverishly seeking a familiar face in spite of the gloom.

Renard's heart raced as he recognized one of the men, a friend and companion of his younger, carefree days. So hoping for the best he called his friends name from the darkness. "Dale, It's me Renard." At the same time stepping out from the wall's shadows very slowly, arms raised in surrender. The two men leapt into panicked action at the disembodied voice, at once leveling their sharp tipped spears at Renard’s chest, both peering at him closely before they acknowledged who he was.

"Well, I'll be damned!" Dale exclaimed almost too loudly. "Why John, if it isn't Renard back from the dead!" Renard looking warily around hoping none had noticed the commotion, at the same time trying to quiet his old friend. The two guards lowered their spears, Dale at once crushing Renard with a spontaneous bear hug, and the other man also known to Renard crowded in close, finally getting the message to lower their voices.

"Listen." Renard cut in, suspecting at any moment to be besieged by too many questions. Questions he did not have the time to answer. "I do not have much time, as much as I would love to talk it is imperative that I see my father, in secret and quickly. Tell him to meet me in the wine cellar. I will make my way there now and wait for him. Tell no one else of my presence, it is vital." With that he was gone just as suddenly as he had arrived, melding into the shadows in the alleyways. Leaving the two men dumbfounded and shaking their heads.
"I'll go and tell Stephan," said Dale.


Renard sat in the inky blackness, amongst the racks of spider web and dust covered bottles and casks, the pleasant smell of oak and wine pervading the umbral space, and he did not have long to wait. His acute hearing picking up the creak of the heavy cellar door, and the grate of the barrel bolt being slid home from the inside. Followed by hurried steps on the stone flooring, being preceded by the feeble flickering glow of a candle.

"Oh my son!" Stephan cried, emotion welling in his usually controlled voice, as the elderly man set the candle down on a dust laden surface and rushed to embrace his long lost child.

It was some minutes before either party could find the strength to break the silence, and the closeness between father and son. The two men fighting their emotions as they finally parted, each taking a step back to look at the other. To Renard it came as a sudden shock, even in this dim light it was all too obvious his father had aged markedly in his absence, noting his posture was more stooped than Renard remembered, and his body more fragile. Still he was overjoyed to look upon this man again, however there was desperate business to discuss and he did not have the luxury of indefinite time.

"Father I do not know where to begin......?" Renard sighed shaking his head, as he related his story of the events leading up to his disappearance, and rescue from death by Bennett's warriors in the wastes. He went on to describe the situation he found himself in, and his subsequent sacrifice which he felt necessary to keep his family safe.

Stephan all the while listening to his son's tragic tale in silence, tears glistening in the old man's eyes. Renard poured out his story, holding nothing back, letting the elderly man understand Bennett's true motives for his alliance with him, and then relating the horrible revelation that Frances was not with Lothar at all, but Bennett's hostage. At these words Stephan caught himself on the bench top, as the world about him threatened to tumble. Renard at once by his side supporting the elderly leader, the young man's presence vital and comforting, lending the shocked man strength to continue. "She is safe." Renard continued. "But I do not know for how much longer. She has been hidden, imprisoned, with enough rations to last at least a month. If I could just get back to the valley I am sure I can get her to safety."

"What of this accursed alliance?" Stephan cursed, finally finding his voice again after his nasty shock.
"Father, Renard put forward with passion "Let us use our enemies to eliminate our enemies!" Realizing that the elderly man would at last be ready to listen to his military arguments. "We will proceed as planned, let Bennett and his men fight Lord Lothar. You will only provide your forces as auxiliaries, they need see no real combat, at least until the battle is nearly over. It should be a bloody encounter and with a little luck it will seriously weaken both sides. If God is with us, and with the help of a few a well placed arrows." As he said this Renard raising his eyebrow to denote his meaning, before he continued on. "We may even be rid of Bennett and Lothar all together. Bennett's men will be in disarray without his leadership, and would present us little problem, and Lothar's men would be not much better off."

Stephan listened carefully, digesting his son’s argument, knowing he had little choice but to agree. "We can begin to build up our defenses on the pretext of the looming war, we will need more arms and stronger walls, and the fewer who know of our true plans the better. We must do this without delay." Stephan nodded his white haired head in agreement, his elegant hand absently stroking his beard trying to come to terms with this night’s unexpected revelations. "I shall return to Bennett's force and I will gather any information I can that will ensure us victory." Renard took hold of his father's shoulders and met his eyes squarely with his intense gaze. "We must think cleverly, but I believe that we do have the advantage over our adversaries." Adding for good measure. "We can win!"

The two men discussed many issues, and battle plans. Renard very careful to fill his father in with any knowledge that might prove useful in these upcoming trouble filled days as the candle burned low, signifying to both of them that it was time to call their clandestine meeting to an end. Father and son embraced one final time, none wishing to depart after so long being parted. "Give my love to mother, take care. May our next meeting be under better circumstances." Renard added, as the two parted company in the predawn gloom, both aware of the enormity and nature of their task ahead.

*****

This place broke you, divided you, devouring one's honor and better judgment. Never being certain that you would see another sunrise could do terrible things to a soul, clouding one's perception of what was socially appropriate. Carlos contemplating all this now in lieu of his ill thought out advance toward Selene. She had been absent for three days, and Carlos spent many hours berating himself for his rash foolishness, asking himself over and over, why, why, had he been so stupid?

During this time having nothing better to amuse himself with, he further investigated the cave system, marking arrows on the walls to prevent him from becoming hopelessly lost as one tunnel looked like any other. However walking these twisting passageways provoked in him more mysteries than they solved, and thoughts began to trouble him, wondering how a cripple like Warren, or a slight girl as Selene, could have got him to the safety of this place? Even in his sorry, half starved condition it seemed improbable, and he fought to try to recall any memory of the event without success. There were just too many things that did not make sense to his inquiring mind.

Other than these nagging, unsolved mysteries he found little of use or interest in his explorations, eventually taking another relaxing bath in the hot springs, and finally returning to his troubled bed, stomach growling in protest as he had eaten very little in the past three days. As he lay there looking up at the stone ceiling above, he knew he would have to search for food soon, this evening ideally. As he had eaten all that was available here in the cavern. Though Carlos was loathe to leave the sanctuary of this place, afraid he would be seen, and worse still, hunted.

He was sure that by now all in the valley had thought him dead, and he was not at all willing to dispel their beliefs. He closed his eyes, telling himself he would go under the cover of darkness, perhaps he could even manage to steal a few vital items in the ensuing nights, while he hunted or appropriated some food. As he often did in the past three days his fingers sought the dragon ring, again attempting to pull it from his finger without success. It appeared that he could not remove it, so tightly was it on his middle finger, almost as though the little golden beasts had fused with his very flesh. Even with the aid of water he had failed to loosen its tenacious hold. This too filling him with yet more troubling, unanswered notions, as he attempted, despite the distractions of his hunger and worried mind, to finally find some sleep.

He awoke at dawn, immediately admonishing himself for his tardiness. Instead of waking at dusk, he had long overslept, his mind filled with disturbing, indecipherable dreams, and he thrust aside the covers angrily swearing under his breath. His angry tirade at once evaporating into stunned silence, as his eyes came to rest on the returned Selene. Crouching, eyeing him warily through her veil of tangled hair from the other side of the chamber.

She had already without waking him rekindled the fire, and had food cooking in it much to Carlos' stomach's delight. Never had he felt so pleased to see someone again as he did in that moment. Being the rash type that he was he instantly sprang to his feet, quite forgetting himself. Caught up in a sense of new found joy and relief at Selene's longed for return. "Oh Selene you're back." He cried, his enthusiasm brimming as he came toward her, careful to show her he had nothing threatening in his hands as he did so. "I'm so sorry Selene." He offered, still closing the space between them. "I didn't mean it really..."

His next utterance no more than a yelp of searing pain, as Selene with animal swiftness raked the sharp tip of her bone knife down the entire length of his forearm. Carlos instantly retreating in great distress and surprise at her sudden attack. Selene unperturbed went back to her cooking fire, whilst Carlos in a state of shock slumped back down on to his bed, holding the agonizing wound, willing the intense pain to cease. Finally after some minutes he managed to mutter to Selene's disinterested back. "Well, I guess that makes us even, huh?"

So began the uneasy truce between them in the days that followed. Carlos' worst fears were thankfully never realized. Positive was he that Selene's attack would make him terribly ill, he had seen it happen to others. However the wound healed quickly and cleanly, and the young man spent his days concentrating on getting as physically strong as possible, ready for his impending escape. Many times in those ensuing days did he beg and plead to Selene, asking that she pilfer selected items for him from the camp. His requests were ignored, time and time again she would return from a visit to the inhabitants below, bearing nothing for him in spite of his frequent, impassioned pleas.

His patience had become frayed with his mounting desperation, and he knew that Selene was playing her games with him. Still exacting punishment for his crime against her. He was positive that she could hear and comprehend his every word, and with this realization his anger at her refusal of his requests steadily grew. On these tense occasions Selene would remind him of her displeasure with his attitude, fondling the hilt of her nasty little weapon. Carlos not wishing to feel its savage bite again would back off and storm away. The decision one day finally upon him, that if he needed the necessary supplies he really would just have to steal them himself. Whatever the risk entailed.