A Battle Lord’s Heart Read online

  “Fortune?” she murmured.

  He inched a little closer. “Yes, Atty?”

  “Go get Cole Mastin for me, would you, please?”

  “He’s downstairs,” Madigan interjected, having overheard her request.

  Atty breathed, filling her lungs and letting her breath out steadily to help further calm her shattered nerves. “Cole?” she called out loudly, clearly.

  “Here!”

  “Come up here, please.”

  “Atty, what’s going on?” MaGrath asked her, keeping his grip on her arms. He was too apprehensive to let her go, although he could see she was clearly back in control of herself.

  The Second walked around the side of the bed, pausing only a moment as he noticed the carved headboard. “Yes, Atty?”

  “I’m calling a Code Four. Now. Immediately. How many men can you spare?”

  Both Mastin and MaGrath reacted instantly and angrily to her order.

  “Atty!”

  “Code Four? For God’s sake, why, Atty?” the physician cried, giving her a little shake.

  “Wh-what’s a Code Four?” Fortune hesitantly asked.

  Shakily, Atty rose to her feet, brushing off MaGrath’s hands, and began to walk around the bed, passing Madigan and Mastin, and heading for the door leading to the bathroom and to the closet. But instead of going through the door as they expected, she stopped at the balcony railing and looked down at the sea of alarmed and worried faces staring upward from the living area and doorway. In a voice careful to hide her hysteria, and keep it from overwhelming her once more, she told them, “The Bloods have breached Bearinger’s walls. The compound has fallen. We’re leaving within the hour to bring back the survivors...and the dead.”

  “Oh, God, Yul!” Madigan screamed. She wavered on her feet, but MaGrath managed to reach her and pull her tightly against him before she could collapse.

  “Atty, are you sure?” the physician called out to her.

  She turned to give him a blank, almost dead look. “I just...know.”

  “What about the Battle Lord?” Mastin demanded. He was still disoriented from the suddenness of being pulled out of sleep. “What about Yulen? Is he...dead?”

  Atty opened her mouth to answer, but no sound would come out. She closed her lips, licked them, swallowed hard, and tried again. “I can’t feel him,” she confessed in a wavering voice as her hand convulsed around the carved railing. “I don’t know. I can’t feel him.” Her knees shook. Her entire body felt strangely light and disconnected.

  The ugly possibility no one could imagine, much less voice, sat over them like a thick, suffocating cloud. In every man’s mind, they could envision the terror. The Bloods had managed to penetrate the compound’s defenses and were now pouring into the citadel. A swarm of crazed, blood-hungry mutants were descending upon soldiers and citizens alike. Men, women, and children were being mercilessly slaughtered at that very moment. And somewhere in that morass of humanity and inhumanity was Yulen.

  Mastin hurried over and grabbed her arm. “We’ll find him, Atty. I swear to God, we’ll bring him back.”

  “Yes. We will,” she replied.

  “We will? What are you talking about? You’re not going,” MaGrath began to argue.

  Before anyone could comprehend her swiftness or her anger, Atty snatched up her longbow from where she kept it propped against the wall on her side of the bed. Two arrows were nocked on the string. Standing before them, and looking every bit like an avenging angel, the Battle Lady drew back and took deliberate aim at the small group of people in her bedroom. Her lips were drawn over her teeth. Her eyes glittered with the fire of her determination as she hissed, “I am going to Bearinger. I will find my husband, and I will bring him back to Alta Novis. Anyone who tells me no will find an arrow in them. Don’t try to stop me, because I swear on the life of my and Yulen’s son I will shoot every one of you if I must. Cole? I am the Battle Lady. Therefore I order you to prepare the small wagon and have however many men we can spare to leave within the hour.”

  The Second bowed slightly and hustled down the stairs to make ready.

  Turning back to the others left in the loft, she never took her eye off the upper arrow’s shaft. Her aim never wavered. “Time is short. I want all of you to leave my home. Now. So I can prepare.”

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” MaGrath asked her warily. She was distraught and extremely agitated, but he had no doubt in his mind Atty would do exactly as she said if anyone tried to stop her from going to Bearinger.

  “Get out of my house, Liam. You, too, Madigan.”

  “Us, too?” Tory asked softly.

  Atty paused only for a second. “You and Fortune may stay, but, Fortune, I want you to go down that staircase right now. Tory doesn’t have the ability to stop me, but you are one of my caste mates, and I cannot trust you not turning on me.”

  “No need for that. I’m going with you,” Fortune informed her. Before she could respond, he started for the staircase. Atty watched him go as Tory followed him.

  “So must I,” MaGrath spoke.

  Madigan clutched her husband, but their eyes locked as the truth passed between them. He patted her hand that lay curled against his chest. “I’ll bring him back, Maddy. I swear to you. One way or another.”

  Dead or alive.

  “I love you, Liam,” she murmured possessively. If he had ever doubted her true feelings before now, she had to make certain he wouldn’t face his own possible death without knowing. Her answer was a warm and heady kiss that seared definite emotions deep inside her. For the hundredth time Madigan wondered why she had waited so long to accept him.

  “You can put the bow down, Atty,” he finally spoke, turning to the desperate woman still standing by the railing.

  A moment of apprehension came and went. Then, unexpectedly, Atty lowered her weapon. Letting out a quick, explosive breath, she sniffed. “I’ll be out in front as soon as I dress,” she told them. Tossing her longbow on the bed, she walked quickly into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Ten

  Razed Compound

  “It’ll be dawn in a little more than two hours, sir,” Sorcher informed the Second.

  “Good. That’ll give us a good head start,” came a voice approaching the wagon. Atty stopped short of climbing aboard to stare at the armed soldiers mounted and waiting for the signal to head out.

  Seeing her blink in astonishment, Mastin reminded her, “You said as many as we could spare. Trust me, Atty, I’m leaving as many here to defend Alta Novis as I believe we’ll need.”

  She blinked again in disbelief at the nearly one hundred men ready and willing. Had the compound grown so much?

  Tossing her pillow into the back of the wagon, she started to climb into the small, narrow seat when an unexpected arm reached out to assist her up. She turned around to see a familiar, yet unfamiliar face holding the reins. “I know you,” she announced, trying to place him. “You’re the man who defeated Verdella at practice.”

  The man gave her a little bow. “Yes, Madam. Garet Renken. You also gave me a little welcoming demonstration in the main hall a few weeks ago when I first arrived,” he reminded her.

  Her eyes flew open wide, and a mischievous grin lit her pale face. “Ah! Now I remember. You’re the Doubting Thomas Yulen wanted me to convince.” At his surprised expression, Atty snorted. “You didn’t think I heard you from way over on the other side of the room, did you? I was looking for my husband, and he made a signal for me to snag you.” She tilted her head at him. “You’re coming with us?”

  “Try to stop me.”

  “You’re not one of the soldiers. You’re not under any obligation.”

  Renken shrugged and gave her a lazy grin. “Regardless.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Renken. You’re sword is welcome. Mastin, let’s get moving!”

  Atty snatched the reins from his hands and slapped the leather across her mare’s back. The little wagon jerked forward, an
d the rest of the forces closed around it, taking their respective positions as they had always done, as they had been trained to do.

  Swinging into his saddle, the ex-mercenary hurried to catch up with the formation, and soon found himself side-by-side with the Mutah hunter who was staying in the Battle Lord and Lady’s new lodge. On the other side of the mutant rode the doctor. The three of them instinctively took up the Battle Lady’s rear.

  Mastin called for an increase in speed before they were all out of the main gates, and for the next six hours the caravan was unusually quiet. Unlike before, when the men would converse on horseback to fill up the time, everyone seemed withdrawn into their own private world of fear and trepidation. For those men who had not been at the lodge when Atty had announced the downfall of Bearinger, word had spread quicker than a flash flood. A least a dozen seasoned veterans who had retired from the service, but who still maintained their agility and health, had volunteered to accompany the hastily-gathered force.

  Seeing this as his chance to redeem himself from his dubious past in the eyes of the Battle Lady, Renken had been among the first to approach the Second and offer his services. “With her permission,” was all Mastin would say. Renken grinned. Well, he’d gotten it.

  When they stopped for a quick noon meal, he found that by hanging around unobtrusively he could often glean valuable information. It was a method that had repeatedly served him well in the past, and hadn’t failed in the short time he’d been living in Alta Novis. Renken realized he was very lucky to have ended up parked next to the Mutah hunter and the doctor. When Mastin called for the stop, no one objected to him taking his meal along with them.

  “Do you think we’re going to battle with these Bloods when we get there?” Renken casually asked Fortune. It was the first conversation he’d struck up with the man since they’d left the compound. And although the Mutah hunter definitely looked normal, it took him aback to see the long tail with the tuft of hair at the end whipping about the man’s legs. Stranger still, the sight of the appendage soon stopped bothering him.

  Fortune slid his eyes sideways at the obvious stranger. “I think that’s pretty much uppermost in everyone’s mind, but it’s the not real reason why we’re going. You know that, right?”

  Renken nodded. “Right.”

  The Battle Lady was kept in guarded seclusion the entire trip. Even now she was seated on a bare rock, surrounded by the doctor and two sub-lieutenants. Despite her condition, she was wearing a pair of laced-up leather pants and an oversized tunic, which he suspected originally belonged to the Battle Lord. The pillow she’d brought along with her had puzzled him at first, until he later saw her use it to pad her stomach against the rough jarring the wagon often took along the rutted roadway.

  Someone behind him made an off-the-cuff comment. “Hope this good weather holds out.”

  “Same here,” Fortune agreed. Despite the near-freezing cold nights, the days had been unseasonably mild. Even today had dawned bright and clear, without a hint of a cloud in the sky.

  “That’s why they struck,” Renken drawled softly.

  His remark was immediately pounced upon. “How do you figure?” someone behind him challenged.

  “Calm before the storm. You know the next big one’s gonna hit soon. That’s why they attacked now. So that when they get socked in by the next blizzard, they’ll already have what they need to sustain them through the worst of it.”

  He was pleased to see Mastin and a few others digest his theory and agree to it. Casually, almost nonchalantly, he got to his feet and meandered over to see if he could eavesdrop on the conversation by the Battle Lady’s fire.

  Atty shook her head slowly. “No,” she responded softly to whatever question he’d missed. “I sense nothing. Nothing.” Her face appeared more strained than normal, and her cheeks glistened with tears.

  “The moment you do, let us know,” MaGrath gently ordered her. At her nod, he got up and left, casting a watchful look at the ex-mercenary as he passed by. Hoping it wouldn’t be seen as being too presumptuous of him, Renken took the seat the man had vacated.

  Silently he watched as Atty took another two bites of the apple she was making suffice for her lunch. She chewed slowly, thoughtfully, lost in whatever she was holding inside herself, then tossed the rest out into the dirt before burying her face in her hands. Behind her, Sorcher laid a comforting hand on her shoulder as he remained on guard.

  Minutes later, Mastin called them to their horses, and they were back on the road.

  The second half of the day passed a bit more quickly, despite the fact that conversation remained hushed and limited. During the late afternoon, MaGrath transferred Atty to the back of the wagon to rest, and took the reins himself. As soon as she curled up on the pile of blankets, she fell fast asleep, and the ranks suddenly closed around her, keeping the wagon in the center of the caravan.

  This was an army fiercely protective of their Battle Lady, something Renken had discovered from day one of his relocation to the compound. Where their respect and loyalty to Yulen D’Jacques was unquestionable, the soldiers’ devotion to his wife was something he’d heard about but never witnessed until he moved to Alta Novis. Neither did it take long for Renken to find out that all the other stories and rumors—what initially he had truly considered as outright fairy tales—were not fabrications.

  The Mutah woman’s abilities were one hundred percent golden. Moreso, the fabled love between the two leaders was greater than anything he had originally expected. There were days when Renken would sit in a small patch of winter sunlight as he polished his weapons, and quietly watch the interaction between the Battle Lord and Lady. Atty, he realized, had a mercurial mood, but she was nothing if not passionate in everything she did, whether it be breaking up an argument between two merchants on Market Day, or the way she would go running up to D’Jacques when he least expected it and launch herself into his arms, right in the middle of the compound, ignoring the looks and smiles of those around them.

  When she had drawn a bead on those people gathered in her bedroom and threatened them with bodily harm if they denied her going along on this rescue attempt, Renken had laughed to himself. It was just like her, and he for one wouldn’t expect her to do anything else. Why did they even think they could talk her out of going? Yes, traveling with the babe in her womb seriously complicated things, considering she was Mutah, but if the situation at Bearinger turned out to be a tenth as dangerous as everyone believed it would be, she was still a potent and critically needed weapon.

  “You don’t talk much, do you?” Fortune probed next to him.

  One side of Renken’s face creased into a grin. “Guess it’s from being alone too long.” He raised his head and turned it toward the hunter. “You’ve known Atty all her life, right? Has she always been like this? Obstinate and the like?”

  Fortune grimaced. “This is way beyond obstinate. We’re going to be making history with this trip. I just pray we find the Battle Lord’s remains.”

  “You think he’s dead?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I just know Atty can’t sense him any longer, and that’s a bad sign. A bad, bad sign. That’s one reason why we’re watching her like hawks. Your name’s Renken, right? For some reason she’s letting you ride her rear. She has good instincts about people, and her letting you ride back here so close to her tells me a lot about you. Listen, if you start to see her looking as if she’s awake but a million miles away, let me or Cole or the doctor know immediately, will you?”

  Renken nodded. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah. Are you willing to give your life to protect her?”

  “Why else would I be here?” the ex-mercenary challenged a bit more gruffly than he intended to. Although he was used to people questioning his motives, for some reason this hunter got under his skin. Maybe it was because it felt like the Mutah could look right through him.

  Instead of being irritated by the man’s answer, Fortune chuckled instead. �
�Good. Glad to hear that. ‘Cause she’d defend your worthless ass in a split second.” He waved a hand to encompass the entire entourage. “They all know this. I just wanted to make sure you did, too.”

  They reached a widening in the road soon after dusk, and Mastin ordered camp to be raised in the middle of the roadway, as far away from the dubious protection of the trees as possible. Small campfires were lit, suppers were cooked, and everyone bedded down for a short night. They would resume before daylight.

  On the second day, while Atty was riding in the seat alongside Fortune, who held the reins, Renken noticed a funny expression cross her face. Her head was down, and everyone assumed she was dozing, until he saw the rise and fall of her shoulders. Catching the physician’s attention, he pointed at her, and MaGrath immediately signaled for a halt.

  Pulling his horse up to the wagon, the man first gave Renken a questioning glance. “She’s gone under,” he told him, hoping the physician would understand.

  He did. MaGrath quickly slid off his mount and took one of her hands that rested limp beside her. “Atty? Atty, can you hear me?”

  She lifted her face, but it was immediately obvious she was not seeing him or the battalion surrounding her.

  “Atty, what do you see?” MaGrath softly insisted. He stroked her hand, hoping to keep her grounded enough to answer him.

  “I...smell smoke.” Her voice was low and gravelly.

  “Yes. Go on.”

  “Smoke.” She blinked, but not to clear her vision. “Smoke.”

  “Have the Bloods set fire to Bearinger?”

  “Smoke,” she managed again to say. Before she could say more, she closed her eyes and rested her head on Fortune’s shoulder. She was asleep moments later.

  “Do you think the Bloods torched the compound?” Fortune spoke out as MaGrath remounted and Mastin got them moving again.

  “The bigger question is, are the Bloods still at Bearinger? Or have they moved on?” Del Ray voiced. He was riding in front of the wagon.