Most of us long to "Be" but when the path gets too costly, or steep, we take solace in what we "Have." Remove the trappings of what we own and then what is the sum of us?
They were the survivors, abandoned by the allies who swore to protect, in...
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The small weapon that was little more than a bejeweled letter opener bothered him. It should not have Victor pondered, testing for the umpteenth time the sharpness of the double-sided blade on his thumb. It's little more than a letter opener...and yet...What kind of metal was it, silver, pewter, titanium?
Victor already knew it was neither, though something familiar and yet so alien to his eyes and the sensitivity of his fingers. He had never seen its like, and the gems that encrusted the pommel what manner of precious stone were they? Appearing as oily contamination trapped within beads of glass, in every diameter possible arrayed in a most pleasing design. However no amount of close scrutiny would reveal to him any clues to what they really were, and the craftsmanship was truly to his connoisseur's eyes otherworldly.
Victor rubbed his forehead lingering on aching temples, thinking he didn't feel at all well which was unlike him, and that a good relaxing massage was in order. At least he had that simple pleasure, a way to temporarily escape the hard realities of apocalyptic life.
Carefully he wound the beautiful blade in some fabric and nestled it against a plainer utilitarian one. As he did so cursing his fortunes and his impending journey on the morrow as he stowed the weapons in black leather saddle bags.
Although he was always reluctant to make these trips Victor had readied himself to leave in his usual organized fashion. Methodically packing the minimal possessions he would require for the journey ahead. He was not usually one to fret, however the idea of his Lord's new bride filled him with a terrible dread. He could not allow this union to be consummated, and somehow he must continue to ensure that he held power here absolutely, no matter what events were soon to transpire. The second in commands' ever calculating mind racing, belying his cool exterior. This new bride must have an untimely accident. However, that course seemed too blunt, too obvious. Perhaps he could assist her to escape en route? He was sure the independent woman would be happy with that outcome, after all, she did appear very reluctant to have a husband chosen for her? However, then Victor would be much maligned for his incompetence, and his inability to escort a lone woman to the safe bastion of her husband's holdings. How, just how, could he amicably or even underhandedly solve this latest crisis?
Like many who ruled through a puppet king, for that was truly what Lord Lothar had become even if he had never suspected, Victor did not always inform his Lord of his actions. Infirmity had thankfully dulled his Lord's vigor and once great acuity. Victor would simply leave an understudy in control of his Lord's care and do as he wished. He had decided to take his latest human captive with him. He had promised Jacques a contest after all.
However that was tomorrow's agenda, this journey he must undertake, the deals he must weave. Victor lay back in the tub, the ministrations of his daughter most welcome, easing at least for the present the deep lines of worry that crossed his brow, and the drawn furrows that creased his cheeks. Perfect hands, elegant fingers, and fine pale flesh spared the exposure to the savage climes' above. She was his temple of softness, his symphony in pleasure. He lay back in the warm scented waters and let her touch ferry him away.
*****
Bennett sat quietly, aimlessly tossing the green object in his powerful hand, it was no more than a well-worn plastic security card, not unlike a credit card in reality. He seriously doubted the thing would really after all these years be of any use in accessing the object of his desire, or if it even existed. However, like most bullies, Bennett had greatly enjoyed watching Warren rescind the much-coveted object into his keeping.
He took one last look at the artifact and tucked it back into the leather folds inside of his jacket. If such a magnificent weapon as a warhead did somehow exist Bennett had decisive plans for it. Most of all he would use this news and the acquired object to rally the spirits of his demoralized clan.
Further north the fool had said, yes, but how far north? Warren had seemed even with rough coaxing most unsure of his bearings. Perhaps he did not know, perhaps there was no such silo at all, or was it so far distant none could hope to travel to unearth its secrets.
Bennett burned to know these and many other answers. Answers that could save his flagging tribe. He and his men had already extensively traveled that area in recent times on foot and by horseback, however nothing of what Warren had described did he see. Was it now buried? The dunes shifted markedly here with the passage of the changing winds, and a constant in this landscape was a rare commodity.
This introspection continued as he made his way back to the fire. They had no horses, here at the campsite anyway. The last one had perished some days ago and even now was roasting on the fire pit. Perhaps the herd they had left at the oasis had fared better he mused, this gave him some promise of hope. The weather for travel was at the best most often inclement.
How would he even begin to set foot toward this fabled place? All he had was a plastic security card and a panicked weakling of a captive who could more often than not only manage every second word in his stumbling fear. Still, he was the leader, he had to make his limited resources work and come up with something, anything that could galvanize his clan toward cohesion and courage.
*****
It rose from the shifting sands like a crown of blackened thorns. Thrusting upwards in angry defiance, at the endless sands that relentlessly pummeled its walls. The Wolf-Lord's fortress. The battlements were empty and forlorn, betraying no life there.
The black, wolf-like dog ran in tight circles at the base of the unscalable steel-clad walls. The creature circled, listening, sniffing the wind, a specter of shadow. The living emblem of this place should it be placed on the blood red of the unfurled banner that blew ragged, high on the tallest battlement that crowned these walls. It sniffed at the ground and ran over the shifting sands.
I am too late Selene voiced to herself enshrouded in the form of the beast, but to anyone who had walked the ramparts above all that could be heard was the long mournful cry of a wolf.
*****
Burdened by Lothar's hefty payment. The ride southward was of a longer duration than the last. At times Victor was miserably cold, even shrouded in his warm traveling attire. The bullocks who would add days to the journey lumbered forward slowly pulling the creaking dray, heavy links of chain clinking tethering the stoic beasts of burden in pairs. Their grizzled keeper periodically spurring them to greater effort with a sharp name call or with the sting of the long-tailed whip.
Thankfully escorting this valuable load was mostly uneventful, if Victor did not count the ragged intruder he had shot the night before last. Nothing more than a desperate lone wanderer he figured. Hoping to steal a few supplies and be furtively on his way. However, in Victor, he had stumbled upon the wrong man and paid for his next potential meal with his life.
As the familiar adobe gate loomed before him, the portal to his destination. Victor stretched his weary leather gloved fingers which seemed frozen to the reins, and shifted his position in the saddle. Even his legs were sore. Yes, a good meal, a hot bath, and a warm bed would be most welcome.
Jacques was waiting for him in the courtyard, greedily eyeing his payment as it rolled in on iron-bound wheels. Today's entrance was a calmer affair, it appeared to the roving eye of Victor that most of the slavers 'livestock' had been either sold or moved away beyond the immediate compound. Krosse embraced his old friend exchanging pleasantries, directing with his black-gloved hand where his men would lodge this evening and how his own precious captive he had brought would be housed. That settled he headed inside for the night.
The dining hall was just as Krosse remembered from his most recent visit, homely and warm even if a touch primitive to his finer tastes. The food was also simple fare but very delicious. His host Jacques this evening seemed in an ebullient mood, after all, he had secured a substantial bride price, and he was only too happy to lavish his best hospitality on his guest. He could well afford to impress after all.
"My Lord is most keen to take possession of his new bride. I trust the maiden is in fine health? Victor was most adept at superfluous pleasantries. They all too often masked the true feelings he held beneath, that were best left veiled. He took up the cup of tea, the coarse hand-thrown mug was so very wrong for the presentation of the beverage. He desired it be served in fine bone china to maximize its taste, however explaining that to some was as futile as speaking to those about him in the tongue of the Father Land.
Jacques was in the mood for small talk, even if Victor was not, after such a tiring and cold journey. "Your fighting man, Victor...he, well, yes, he does not seem like much of an opponent? If you do not mind me saying...err well, he seems almost... effeminate." Jacques rubbed the fat from the meat on the end of his fingers idly into his beard.
"He has some interesting talents." Victor purred.
"I take it you wish him spared?"
"Yes, an exhibition bout I would wager? He is very valuable to my ongoing studies."
"Ah yes, understandable." Jacques took another lusty bite from the beef bone. "Well I am looking forward to witnessing these talents you describe."
Victor smiled his trademark thin-lipped smile, the one that never reached his cold, calculating eyes. He glanced across at the entertainment provided. Handsome entertainment it was, skilled also. Victor was sure his Lord would have enjoyed and coveted the minstrel's fine renditions of old popular melodies. Music was such a rare art in these times.
As for Jhary, he had hoped his services would not be warranted this evening, but he was not to be so excused. The bard had felt decidedly gloomy these last few days, and the onset of the evenings was worse. It seemed nothing would drive these morose spirits away.
Regaling guests with merry tunes, and fanciful tales held little allure. However, a professional must always put his best foot forward and tonight found him playing with no exception melodies which he simply did not feel. He was only too happy to seek his cold bed and attempt escape to the land of dreams.
The following day was still and fair if only there could be a glimpse of sunlight. It seemed the fiery orb had long ago abandoned the world. How long had it been Krosse thought since he had glimpsed its light or spied a definite shadow? If there was no sunlight soon, would the world and its balance not be irretrievably damaged?
This was not a usual thought for the cruel-minded man, though it was his forte, a scientific observation. For Victor made many of those. A man who looked at the living about him as mere putty for his craft. One who had no compunction to sever limbs, take eyes and tongues, to perform all manner of cruel surgeries to torment and maim his victims. It seemed a strange tangent for him to dwell on at all, still, it was a far better problem, than how he was going to deal with his new Queen.
He had desired to linger here, to buy more time. Perhaps something expeditious would come to his quick-witted way of thinking. It often did. Though as the morning hours had passed he was no further to find any solution to his worry.
Today he would relax, and bide his time. He needed the drugs to dissipate from his captive before he would be deemed ready to challenge Jacques' appointed opponent anyway.
Though Krosse had been very disappointed to learn he would not have the chance to face the magnificent and savage specimen he had viewed on his last visit. It seemed his host did not have the stomach to keep such a fierce man. Yes, indeed it was a pity.
*****
Looking at all the available options Bennett had decided he must remain in the valley with his clan. His firm rule was needed here if he wanted any semblance of a tribe to return victorious to. Though he longed to make the trip of discovery with Warren in tow, it was just not feasible given the uneasy climate of his leadership. With so much at stake, he had decided to send his only trusted man, Gareth to make the journey north.
One man alone with a captive, even a fearful weakling such as Warren was to his mind also a bad plan, so he ruminated whom best to accompany Gareth? It was no easy choice for none of the remaining men were firmly in Bennett's mind solid men. All had defection on their minds. He had thought to send Sven, however dwelling on it further he felt that Sven if he so chose could be more than a match for Gareth, and even with his little family hostage here Bennett didn't trust Sven as he once had to fulfill the exploration in his clan's best interests.
Will was also not a good bet, he seemed almost openly mutinous, Bennett had learned to read much in a man's eyes over the years. Todd was still injured, and Pig, although he felt him quite dispensable was not up to the task.
He had therefore settled on Dwayne, he would be easily handled by Gareth and was good with a bow. A skill that was most desirable given the small force he could only spare. Now to implement the excursion...
