A Battle Lord’s Heart Read online

  There was more blood coming from between her thighs, spreading slowly outward beneath her and across the leather padded table. Pulling back the fabric, he saw her swollen stomach glisten in the lantern light. Yulen could see movement inside, and for a fascinating second he couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

  “Liam, it’s too soon. She isn’t due for another couple of months!”

  “We can’t dwell on that,” MaGrath tersely replied as he pulled supplies from the cabinets.

  Seeing the long, thin, pincer-like instrument being laid out across the linen-covered tray, Yulen felt himself grow cold as his imagination tried to envision how it might have to be used on Atty’s tender flesh.

  “If you’re going to faint on me, at least have the courtesy to step away from the table so you don’t land on her.” To emphasize his point, the physician gave him a shove with his hip as he rounded the end of the examination table.

  Yulen flashed him an instantly heated glare. Hearing MaGrath’s chuckle, the Battle Lord knew he’d deliberately been chastised to help him get re-centered. “Damn you, Liam.”

  “I need you sober, Yulen. We’re on borrowed time here.”

  Before he could say more, the door to the clinic squeaked. Almost at the same time, Click Torbeth, the compound’s doctor, pounded into the room. His eyes widened to see the flow of blood coming from the woman lying unconscious on the table. “When did you say she was due?” He kicked the door shut behind him and hurried to wash up over at the basin.

  “End of May or early June. She’s needing to be put under. I don’t want to cut on her until I know she won’t be waking up from the pain.”

  “What?” Hearing that MaGrath would be slicing her open, Yulen placed himself between the man and his wife. MaGrath eyed him cooly.

  “She’s hemorrhaging. Unless we stop it now, she’ll bleed to death. Now, get out of my way, and then I’ll explain more. Click? What can we use on her?”

  “I’ll have to use the ether,” the man replied, already pulling a mask and a small vial of liquid from a nearby cabinet. Placing the fabric over Atty’s nose and mouth, he proceeded to administer the agent.

  “Yulen, are you going to help me or not?” MaGrath’s heated question stung as he painted Atty’s belly with alcohol.

  “What can I do?”

  “Have you washed up? Tie down her arms and legs.”

  He quickly obeyed, lashing her to the rings embedded on the undersides of the table with strips of soft cotton Click handed over to him. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest as he fought the fear that wanted to choke him.

  Atty never moved. Her skin had taken on a sickly gray pallor as blood continued to pour out of her. Several drops fell to the floor, right where they would have to walk on them.

  “You might want to turn away, son,” MaGrath softly whispered, but his command made Yulen want to observe all the more.

  The scalpel slid into her lower abdomen, cutting a slit seven to eight inches long, coming to rest right above her soft nest of deep blue curls. Yulen shuddered involuntarily, eliciting a quick look from MaGrath, but he refused to yield.

  Grabbing another tool from the linen-covered tray, MaGrath inserted it into the slit and slowly, carefully, spread the flesh apart. There, mere millimeters beneath the skin, a thin, pinkish sac vibrated in the light.

  “Yulen, get a clean, folded blanket.”

  There was a stack on a stool by the door. Yulen snatched one and stepped back to the table as MaGrath dipped his hand inside the womb and withdrew the tiny body from within.

  “He’s a fighter. That’s good,” the physician said, struggling to keep his hold on the slick sac.

  He lifted out the fetus, membrane and all, and laid it on the unwrapped blanket in Yulen’s arms. Before the Battle Lord could comprehend what he was doing, MaGrath ripped open the sac, releasing a watery substance that cascaded over Yulen’s arms and shirt, and dripped down his legs. A flick of the scalpel, and the umbilical was severed as Yulen stared at the still form. Finally, the doctor turned the baby onto its stomach and began lightly slapping the infant’s back and buttocks.

  “Rub him like this,” the man instructed, bringing one of Yulen’s hands out from under the blanket. “Atty needs me.”

  The Battle Lord massaged the incredibly little back, lifting the edge of the blanket and using it to rub circulation into the skin, hoping the rough material would help.

  “Come on. Cry for me. Get that crap out of your lungs. Come on. Show me those lungs are ready. Let Grandpapa Liam hear that famous D’Jacques cry,” MaGrath said, glancing up at Yulen’s ministrations.

  There was a minuscule coughing sound, and then two small lungs filled with air. A distinctly loud wail of protest filled the room, and MaGrath lifted a tear-stained face to the new father.

  “Atty’s never let you down. You have a son, Yulen. There’s a suction bulb in that corner drawer. Use it to suction out the last of amniotic fluid from his lungs and nose. Click, how’s she doing?”

  “Hurry, Liam.”

  Drawing his son to his chest, Yulen quickly found the bulb and used it to clear the tiny infant’s airways. At the same time, his eyes shunted between the bit of life in his arms, and the motionless figure, as he emotionally seesawed from elation to worry and fear for his love lying deathly pale on the examination table. The baby boy wriggled, kicking out a foot, bringing a sad smile to the Battle Lord’s face as he drew the edges of the blanket tight around the miniature frame to keep his son warm.

  “Liam, what caused the hemorrhaging?”

  “Hell if I know,” the man replied. He had spread Atty’s abdomen wider, hoping to find the problem. His fingers were probing her insides, searching for the source as he cleaned out the afterbirth.

  Yulen stepped backwards until his backside bumped against another examination table. Frightened by the unexpected jolt, his son open his mouth and let forth another long, quivering cry. His tiny jaw trembled.

  “For God’s sake, Yulen! Hold him against you. He’s probably freezing to death! Remember, he’s been inside Atty’s warm body.” MaGrath glanced up at the Mutah doctor. “I think I’ve found it. I need a clamp.”

  “Second drawer behind you.”

  “Suturing thread?”

  “Same.”

  Yulen heard the physician mutter something about a “fucking artery” as he slammed the drawer shut and bent back over the woman.

  “Sweet heavens, there’s so much blood loss. Click?”

  “Better start closing, Liam. If I give her any more of this, she’ll go into shock.”

  MaGrath started. “I think she already is.”

  All the blood drained from Yulen’s face and pooled at his feet. An echo of something MaGrath had told him, what seemed like ages ago, when they were in Wallis, came tumbling into his head.

  For all we know, the idea of becoming pregnant and having a baby is like a game of chance. Put the right card on the table, and you live, but you lose the baby. Put another card on the table, and you just might give birth, but the child dies soon after. Another card, and the baby lives. But have the wrong card dealt to you...

  He clutched his new son closer to him as a cold, unrelenting sense of loss coated his skin like a pall. “Liam?” he whispered shakily.

  It was evident MaGrath was trying to staunch the blood flow coming from the ruptured artery inside Atty’s abdomen.

  “Liam?”

  “Click! Help me out here. I’ve almost got it tied off.”

  “She’s lost too much blood, Liam,” Click whispered. “She’s going into shock.”

  “I’m not going to let her go so easily!” MaGrath suddenly yelled. “Not without a fight!” He took a deep, frightened breath. “Help me, Click!”

  The room grew hazy, filled with diamond-shaped patterns of light until Yulen blinked the tears away. The two men continued to labor over her, trying to save Atty’s life, trying to preserve the body that contained such a rare and beautiful spirit. He fel
t like he was slowly sinking. It was a feeling that continued to spread through him with black tendrils. Instinctively, he clutched his son more firmly against his chest.

  He slowly walked over the table, near her head, and gazed down at the way her skin had taken on a porcelain hue. Her thick, dark blue lashes fanned out on her cheeks, the same way they did when she was asleep. Kneeling down, Yulen leaned over to the table, brushing away her shoulder-length hair until he bared one small, perfect ear.

  “Atrilan? I-I know you’re in there. I can still feel you, but you seem to be getting fainter. Atrilan, I’m jealous. And I’m greedy. I want more, my love. I want to spend all of my life with you. Together, the both of us, for years to come. You gave me a son, like you promised. Thank you, my only love.”

  He pressed his forehead to her hair and fought to collect himself. More tears rolled down his face, but he ignored them. “Atrilan. Don’t go away. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave your son. Our son. W—... we made this baby. Together. You and me. We made love, and from it we made a baby. He needs you, almost as much as I do. He needs to learn from you. I want him to learn from you. Your skill, your compassion, your sassiness, and your love. He needs you, but I need you more.”

  “Yulen?” MaGrath’s voice permeated the blackness in his mind. Yulen managed to swivel his head around to look down the table at the doctors. “Can you still sense her?” the physician asked. They were sewing her up now. At least, MaGrath was. The Mutah doctor was pouring something into her mouth, stroking her throat until her muscular contractions made her automatically swallow. But in spite of their ministrations, that sinking feeling inside him continued to grow colder and thicker.

  “She’s going away,” Yulen whispered. His tongue felt thick. Something was clogging his throat, nearly suffocating him with its sourness. Heat flared in his face as more tears coursed over his cheeks.

  “Keep talking to her, son. Give her something to focus on. You know she doesn’t want to leave you, but you have to help her fight.”

  Yulen took a deep breath. “Atrilan. My incredible Atrilan. I...I remember...things. Scenes. Bits and pieces of what may or may not have happened while we were apart. Words that were never spoken. I remember you telling me the first time you felt our son moving inside you, but I was fighting the Bloods. I was miles away, days away from you, but I heard you. I heard you inside my head and inside my heart. I-I don’t know what connects us, my beloved, but if there’s any way I can give you what strength I have...if I can reach out to you, and hold on to you, and keep you from moving farther away from me, I’ve got to try. You’ve got to try. Atrilan. There’s a specialness inside of you that makes you unlike anyone else who’s ever lived, or ever will live. If you fight this, you will win. Aim for it, just like you aim for your targets. Set your sights on me, on our love, and run for it. God damn it, run back to me!”

  Above him, Click jerked off the fabric mask covering her nose and mouth, and lifted her head to forcibly pour another concoction down her throat. He stroked her esophagus until the involuntary reaction took over, and she swallowed it.

  MaGrath threw another blanket over her chilled skin, and began to vigorously rub the fabric across her nude body. Throwing Yulen a desperate look, he said, “We lost you once because of blood loss, but Atty brought you back. It’s time you returned the favor.”

  “What do you need me to do?” He saw Click checking her heart beat and breathing. Both were excruciatingly slow.

  “Stop talking to her and see if you can’t make that connection work for you.”

  Click looked up. “What do you mean? He can’t do that. He’s a Normal, Liam.”

  “I’ve seen him do it before!” MaGrath argued tightly. He glanced at Yulen, at the confused question in the man’s eyes, and whispered, “In the cave. In the forests outside Bearinger. They had tortured you, Yulen. You were crying. You were broken, hurting, and ashamed. You sought out Atty, and she drew you into her. You sought solace in her body. In her heart. In her love. Through your connection, you made love to her as she healed you. She soothed you and comforted you. The connection does work both ways for you two, Yulen! So go get her.”

  Go get her.

  For God’s sake, Yulen, go get her.

  Memories of a miserably cold, dark, and rain-soaked evening in a forest clearing came back to him. She had drawn a bead on him, claiming she was heading west. Telling him not to follow her. Begging him. He had told her he would never let her go. He had told her he wanted to spend his life with her.

  And then, later, they had confessed their love to each other, once over a tub bath, and then later amid the sweat-soaked sheets in the guest room bed at Foster City. She was still a virgin, but Yulen had known even then he would become her first true lover. That he would be her only lover. For the rest of their lives.

  For God’s sake, Yulen, go get her.

  He sat on the floor and tucked his sleeping son beneath his chin. The small figure, delicate and fragile, somehow smelled of her. Closing his eyes, he reached into himself and waited. Searched. Hoped.

  She was still there, but she was at the end of a cold, rain-soaked clearing. She didn’t have her longbow. She was completely weaponless. He started to go to her, running through the wet, slick leaves, not caring how much noise he made as he approached her.

  She looked so incredibly beautiful with her long, thick, morning glory-colored hair that was spread like a cape over her shoulders and down her back. He could tell she was tired. Still in pain. At every turn in the pregnancy, when they had expected the worse, only to have no problems occur, they’d gotten slack. They had forgotten to follow her every step of the way, and they had failed to keep her safe right up to the end.

  They didn’t need to have any more children. Their son would continue their legacy. All that mattered was Atty. All he needed was to have her with him until they both drew their last breaths together. Either in battle, or withered from age, it didn’t matter. Just as long one didn’t leave the other behind. Because that is the way it would have to end. The both of them, as one, closing the door on life with her hand firmly entwined with his.

  The rain was freezing. It was dangerous to be in the woods after dark. He reached for her. But then, to his horror, she turned her back to him and began to walk away to disappear into the forest where he would never find her again unless she so wished it. She was too far out of reach, and there was no way he would be able to get to her before the trees swallowed her. Unless...

  He held out his hand, fingers spread.

  “Noooo! No Atrilan!”

  His scream awoke the baby in his arms. Their son answered with a terrified, loud, wavering howl.

  On the table above him, a blood-smeared arm fell over the edge of the leather padding, to hang out above the floor. Beneath the pale blue hairs covering the skin, Yulen saw a muscle twitch.

  He pulled himself up until he was standing. The wounds in his stomach seared him, making him grit his teeth against the pain. The infant settled against his father’s warmth, relaxing back to sleep with his head nestled under Yulen’s chin, exactly the way Atty would after they’d made love.

  A soft sigh came out of her. Click reached to prepare another drought.

  Dropping the edges of the blanket, MaGrath came around the table and checked her heart.

  “We’re not out of the woods yet,” he commented even while a glimmer of hope colored his words. The man’s analogy was startling.

  Yulen watched as Atty opened dazed eyes. Lost and disoriented, it took a moment for her to finally settle on him. “Yul?” she croaked almost inaudibly.

  “Yes, my beloved.” He moved close enough for her to see their baby.

  She closed her eyes, then opened them again. She swallowed drily. “Yul?”

  “Right here, Atrilan.” He could see her fighting to focus.

  “The baby.”

  “A healthy little boy. We have a son, Atrilan.”

  “Can we name him Mattox?”

  For
some reason, Yulen couldn’t help but chuckle. “Very well. His name is Mattox.”

  She smiled, closing her eyes as she neared the edge of sleep. Yulen could feel its irresistible pull reaching for her. A pull that was entirely different from the thick blackness that had tried to suffocate him. The sickening fog was gone, leaving behind a clear and bright emptiness. She was very, very weak, but she was damned and determined to have him take her hand and lead her out of the rain-soaked clearing in the forest.

  “Yul?”

  He leaned over and kissed her temple, tenderly nuzzling the soft hairline. He knew she felt it. A ghost of a smile settled over her lips. “What, my only love?”

  “Next time, can we have a girl?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he whispered lovingly.

  She sighed contentedly. A moment later she slipped into a deep, healing rest, leaving her husband to take over protecting their newborn son.

  For the time being, her job was done.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emerging Feelings

  It was turning out to be a gorgeous spring day. Okay, so the weather wasn’t quite as cooperative as it was last week, Atty told herself, but it was certainly making up for it today. She was stretched out in a chair, feet propped up on the edge of the bed, head resting on the back of the seat, while the sunshine coming through the window bathed her in its warm, bright rays. It wouldn’t be too difficult to fall asleep right where she was, but it wouldn’t be possible. Not in her present “condition”.

  The door in the next room squeaked. Atty snorted, smiling, yet refusing to budge. Everyone knew the damn thing’s hinges needed greasing, but apparently no one wanted to take the time to do it. She waited to hear who would be entering the room, knowing it could only be one of three people. When no footfall came to her ears, she had no doubt as to who was standing in the doorway.