A Battle Lord’s Heart Read online

  “Mmm?”

  Yulen slowly reared up in his saddle. “Time for the truth, my dear.”

  She tried to suppress the smile on her face by pressing her lips together.

  “You were going west to the great gulf?” he asked her, referring to a time long ago in a rain-soaked forest, when she had threatened to run away from him.

  “I was,” she tried to tell him, the smile growing.

  “Bullshit. You were going to head for Good Choice.” He glanced back at the map and did a quick calculation. “Then maybe over to Barkertonville, up to Fullmont, and then to Wallis.” He glared at her again. “You conniving little...”

  By this time MaGrath and Mastin were looking at each other, totally lost as to what the Battle Lord and Lady were talking about, and alarmed at their tone of voice. It was clear Yulen was peeved about something, yet Atty didn’t appear at all bothered by his irritation.

  “You pulled one over on me!” Yulen accused her.

  “Well, it worked, didn’t it?” she snickered.

  “And when were you planning on coming clean about this? If you ever planned to? All that time I had visions of you cold and wet, barely surviving out in the wood, struggling to make your way back to Wallis—”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Yulen!” Atty began to laugh, a bright and sunny sound.

  “You owe me big time, woman,” her husband threatened, unable to stop himself from also smiling, caught up in her infectious laugh. “Big time.”

  “Yes, sir.” She threw him a mock salute, which only caused him to shake his head in disbelief.

  MaGrath loudly cleared his throat to get their attention. “If you two are quite through with your discussion, may I ask about how far we are from home?”

  “Two days, give or take a handful of hours.” Again, Yulen consulted the map. “Believe it or not, we should reach the end of this trail by this afternoon. It’ll be straight forest to the roadway, say another five or six hours. If we’re lucky, and if I’m reading this map correctly, we’ll be lucky to reach the main road before dark. That’ll put us a just day’s hard ride south of Alta Novis.”

  “Good. Oh, and Yulen? Consider this to be my last caravan out.”

  “And what if I have to go New Bearinger to help oversee the rebuilding? Who will accompany me as my medicine man, with MacIntyer gone? I need to get started on the plans as soon as possible, now that the weather’s turning around.”

  “Whoa! Whoa! Wait!” Atty interrupted, holding up a hand. Turning partly in her saddle, she got her husband’s full attention. “What is this ‘I’ crap? Listen to me, Yulen D’Jacques. You will never leave Alta Novis ever again without me by your side. Shut up and listen to me, I said!” she snapped heatedly, seeing Yulen opening his mouth to object. When he obligingly sealed his lips, she continued.

  “This last time was the last straw. I cannot, will not, ever again face another day or another night without you. We belong together. We’re going to face our destinies together, and we’ll face our deaths the same way. Together. I felt you that night, Yulen. I heard you screaming in my head when the Bloods took you down and began slicing you into pieces, before that Blood snake leader stopped them. I know what you were thinking, and I’ll never be able to forget it, either.” She stopped, suddenly aware of everyone but Yulen hanging onto her every word. Behind them, Fortune and Renken pulled up to join them.

  Atty watched his eyes, and husband and wife saw the truth written on their hearts. “You weren’t afraid of dying,” she whispered. “You weren’t afraid of what they were doing to you. You screamed my name. You were terrified because you were being taken away from me. Because you knew we would never see each other again.” Her voice hiccuped softly as she fought the hot sting of tears in her eyes. “Because you truly believed it was the end of us.”

  Shaking her head vehemently, Atty’s voice grew cold with determination and finality. “Our souls, our hearts are permanently fused together. Where yours goes, goes mine, and you know I’m right. Don’t you? You know you’ll never be able to ride outside the gates of Alta Novis again and leave me behind...don’t you?”

  “Yes. I know that,” he relented.

  “Promise me?” she insisted. Oh, he was such a hard, determined, and stubborn man who couldn’t ever admit to being wrong, although the truth could come crashing down on him like a landslide. “Promise me, Yul!”

  Leaning over, Yulen picked up her hand where it rested on the saddle horn, turned it over, and kissed the palm. “You have my word of honor,” he solemnly vowed.

  The sun broke through the clouds, full of warm, golden hope. Beneath the budding trees, two lovers sealed that vow with a soft kiss, then urged their horses into a fast trot to hurry up to the front of the line.

  Just as night fell, the caravan emerged from the forest onto the roadway, exactly as Yulen had predicted. They made camp right there, although every man had a difficult time finding restful sleep. They were a day’s ride away from home. And after all they had been through, after months of recuperating and waiting out the winter, to be so close to their loved ones was almost unbearable. Which was why, when they stopped the next day for midday meal and for the required hour of rest for the horses, they listened with interest to the Battle Lord’s proposal.

  “From the landmarks around us, we’re a little over ten hours away from home. If we continue forward at this pace, it’ll have us moving long after dark. I don’t have to explain the dangers if we persist in moving after sunset.”

  There were nods of understanding among the men. It was after dark when the worst and the most dangerous predators prowled the surrounding forest. The Bloods may have been defeated for the time being, but there was still the possibility of bears, or worse, wolfen, catching their scent and stalking them in the chance a straggler could provide them with an easy feast.

  “Common sense tells us to stop and make camp at dusk, which would place us two, maybe three hours away from Alta Novis.” Yulen placed his hands on his hips. “You have put yourselves at my command, but this time I’m going to let you make the decision. Do we let common sense prevail, and make for home in the morning? Or do we continue straight through, and get there tonight?”

  Their decision was unanimous, as he knew it would be.

  As the sun dropped below the tree line, and dusk approached, they stopped for an hour’s rest and a quick meal. When they were done, they brought out the torches they’d made that afternoon. Moving three abreast, the caravan resumed the pace they’d been traveling all day.

  With each successive mile, with every curve in the road, the soldiers’ anticipation grew. Their eyes scanned ahead for that first glimpse of their home. Conversation thinned, then stopped altogether. Bets were placed as to who would be the first to spot the pennant at the top of the main lodge. Alta Novis would be lit up, ringed by torch and lantern light in the darkness—a beacon to the exhausted traveler, and a sign of warning to the enemy.

  There was no banner for his men to raise as they drew closer. It didn’t matter. In the dark none of the sentries would be able to distinguish it anyway.

  Another mile passed. Familiar landmarks shrouded in black shadows passed them. Overhead the broken moon managed to shed just enough light for them to see the road a few feet beyond the horses. Atty looked over to see her husband listening intently, his head tilted to one side. “What?” she whispered, not wanting to raise her voice. He replied by raising his index finger at her. Wait.

  Moments later the call came. “Ho! Strangers! Identify!”

  They’d reached the outer perimeter of the compound. The first line of sentries were challenging them.

  Yulen signaled for a full halt. With exact precision, every man pulled up, having heard the call themselves. “I am Yulen D’Jacques, Battle Lord of Alta Novis,” Yulen replied in his most authoritative voice.

  There was a second of silence. When the second became several, Yulen turned a puzzled look in the direction where he knew the sentry would be pos
ted. “Did you hear me?” he questioned gruffly.

  “Ho! Strangers! State your business!” There was no mistaking the shaking in the sentry’s voice. For some reason, the man was fearful.

  “My business?” Yulen echoed. “We’re returning to our homes, me and my men. That’s our business! Who are you, sentry? Identify!” To his surprise, the sentry neither stated his name, nor did he appear in the roadway. The lack of discipline irked. “Very well,” the Battle Lord snapped. “If you will not grant us passage, I’ll take it by force.”

  “I’ll ring the bell! I’ll let them know you’ve breached the outer perimeter!” a terrified voice quickly yelled.

  “It’s my compound!” Yulen yelled back. “Ring the bell, damn you! Let them know we’ve returned! Wake up the whole compound! Make all the infernal noise you want, because we’re going in!”

  “Yulen, they won’t open the gates if the bell rings,” Atty stated a fact he already knew. She had to raise her voice for him to hear, as the bell began to toll, loud and crisp in the clear night.

  Giving the men the go-ahead, they advanced forward, around the last bend of the road and over the small rise before looking down at the compound below, nestled in its small valley. As they knew it would be, the entire compound was ablaze with lights posted every ten feet along the upper portion of the compound walls. Lights were also present below each sentry turret, and along the roofs of the larger buildings inside the walls.

  As they stood, staring at the sight they’d been homesick for, they could see the parapets filling with soldiers. Alta Novis had gone on alert at the sound of the bell, which was as it should. The entire compound called its forces out to protect itself against the enemy that had penetrated the outer ring.

  “Let’s go find out why I’m not welcome in my own home,” the Battle Lord growled softly, and moved forward.

  They advanced cautiously, knowing they were approaching without a pennant and in the dark—two dangerous combinations. As they drew closer one very unmistakable fact became clear. It was MaGrath, riding beside Yulen, who voiced it.

  “Yulen, the staff. Look at the staff. The compound’s under black linen.”

  The three of them pulled up to stare at the pole rising above the main lodge. Where they should have seen the half-blue, half-red signature flag at the top, the banner had been lowered halfway. Above it, flying in the slight breeze, was a large rectangle of solid black. The sign of mourning. And then, right at the top of the pole...

  “Why the hell is Zane flying his banner in my compound?” Yulen angrily cried. “He better have a damn good reason.”

  Kneeing the big Palomino, he pulled ahead of them, determined to get to the bottom of this new development. Overhead he could see the archers tensing. Despite the torches they were carrying, Yulen knew they couldn’t get a good view of his face, but they wouldn’t need to as long as they had a definite figure to aim for.

  It was when the caravan neared the main gates and stopped that they saw more of the black linen draped across the upper portion of the wall. Two large falls of the material covered each of the main wooden doors.

  An icy hand clutched Yulen’s stomach and squeezed until the pain took his breath away. “Oh, dear God, Liam... Mother?”

  At his softly spoken remark, the physician paled. It had never occurred to MaGrath until the man had spoken the name. Madigan. His Madigan. Please, please, don’t let it be her!

  “It would explain the banners,” MaGrath whispered back. He couldn’t control his voice, nor could he stop the trembling in his hands where he clutched the reins so hard his knuckles were white.

  Yulen nodded, numb with denial. “Mother would have been in charge with us gone. That would explain why Zane raised his banner.” A compound left leaderless would need someone to take command, and the sooner the better. Knowing that the Battle Lord of Foster City, and a friend, had assumed those duties gave Yulen a faint sense of relief. Better Batuset was running things rather than some despot the likes of Collaunt taking over.

  “Ho! Strangers! Identify!”

  They were being given one last chance before the order was given to fire the arrows, the compound’s first line of defense.

  “I am Yulen D’Jacques! Battle Lord of Alta Novis! Open the gates and let me and my men pass!”

  The effect of his announcement was like an explosion of thunder rocking the entire compound. The caravan sat in stunned disbelief as something they couldn’t clearly understand began happening behind the walls. They heard yelling and screaming, the words indistinct but clearly panicked. A moment later, the same sentry called out, “Ho! Back away! You will turn around and return to wherever you came from, imposter!”

  “Imposter? Who the hell is that up there? Sentry! Identify!”

  “You have one minute to comply!” the sentry stated as the warning bell finally ceased clanging.

  “It sounds like Breedlove,” Mastin whispered to Yulen. The Second had joined them the moment Yulen had been challenged the second time.

  “Breedlove?” Yulen called out. “If Batuset’s in charge, you tell him I want his ass out here in less than one minute, or he’ll forever regret flying his banner above my compound! Atty. Draw me an arrow.”

  It was late. They all were tired and too exhausted to argue any further. It had been too many long months since they had left their home compound to have to face this sort of challenge. Whatever was preventing them from gaining entry was coming to a halt right now. Quickly she complied, pulling the longbow from behind her saddle. Nocking an arrow, she lifted it and looked to her husband.

  “Mastin, got a torch?” Snatching the firebrand from his Second, Yulen carefully set the wooden head of the shaft aflame. “All right, Atty,” he breathed angrily, “Take out that fucking banner.”

  A second later the burning arrow arched upward, trailing over the walls of the compound like a shooting star. It snagged the green pennant dead center in its field of stars, jerked it from its moorings, and sailed over the edge of the roof.

  Every man on the battlements froze.

  “I am Yulen D’Jacques, Battle Lord of this compound! I am ordering a Code One, effective now!”

  Code One—Emergency Entrance.

  The main gates remained closed.

  A heartbeat later, the small sentry door in the wall flew open, and a lone figure emerged, carrying a lantern. Atty felt a sense of déjà vu come over her as she recalled their approach to West Crestin. Only this figure was not a man. “Yulen! It’s Madigan!” she told him.

  “Madigan?”

  Literally jumping out of his saddle, Yulen hurried to greet his mother halfway across the entry clearing. As he got closer he could see signs of anger and shock on her face and in the way she carried herself. It reminded him of when his father had been killed, forcing her to come to grips with taking over running the compound along with her son.

  She stopped a dozen feet away, her breath heaving in her chest. The woman had been and still was in deep mourning. The realization stunned him, and Yulen began racking his brain, wondering why the black linen.

  “Who are you?” she cried out. Her body was trembling with suppressed rage and grief. Her agony was enough to soften his own temper.

  “I’m your son,” he calmly answered. Overhead, it seemed the entire compound was listening. The scenario was bathed in hushed expectancy.

  “You cannot be my son,” Madigan hissed at him between her tears. The lantern she held reflected the silver streaks on her face. “My son is dead.”

  “I would be, if Atty hadn’t come for me.”

  His low, soothing voice, a voice she knew could never be impersonated, devastated her. She took a slow step toward him, holding out the lantern to catch his face in its light. A second step. Then a third. The yellow flame turned his hair the color of molten gold.

  Madigan gasped. A hand flew to her mouth, and she hunched over in pain.

  “Oh, dear God, Yul!”

  She fell into his arms, sobbing unc
ontrollably. The lantern fell to the ground, shattering the glass globe.

  Moments later, the sentry door opened again. This time the large, bear-like figure of the Battle Lord of Foster City strode out of the compound with long, purposeful steps, along with Dardin Tabb, his Second. Batuset carried a lantern. Tabb had his sword drawn.

  Shoving the light in Yulen’s face, it only took Batuset a second to confirm the man’s identity. “Open the gates!” he yelled at the men watching and waiting above. Turning back to Yulen, Batuset threw an arm about the man’s shoulders and gave him a quick hug. “You owe all of us an explanation, and it damn well better be worth all the shit you put us through!” the big man threatened, his voice choking on tears. He craned his neck to look over at the caravan. “Where’s Atty?”

  “Back there with Liam and Cole.”

  “Liam?”

  His mother’s response frightened him. Her whole body was shivering violently, and her skin had gone cold. Yulen called over his shoulder for the physician. MaGrath was beside him before Yulen was aware of it. He gathered his wife in his arms and began stroking her, soothing her, kissing her and letting her know that whatever fears and beliefs they had been nursing were over. He was back. They all were back. And life could resume again.

  Climbing back on his horse, Yulen gave the command to advance as the gates finished swinging open. Riding in, the caravan was besieged by hundreds of people, townsfolk and soldiers alike, yelling and crying, reaching out to touch their Battle Lord. Many saw the small carrier across Atty’s chest, and they pointed it out, cheering.

  The returning men in the caravan spotted loved ones in the crowd. They waved, laughing and crying, and blew kisses, but they remained in formation. Yulen waited until everyone was within the compound walls before giving the all clear sign, letting the soldiers know they were finally free to dismount and embrace their loved ones.