The Battle Lord's Lady

by Linda Mooney

  There was a moment’s pause before she responded. “You fight dirty, you know that?” It was followed by a loud yawn.

  “You need sleep,” he half-ordered.

  “I’m not tired.”

  “Maybe not, but you’ll heal faster if you get your rest,” he argued gently.

  “Can’t. This horse has a hitchy gait.”

  “Hitchy?”

  “Not smooth. Does she have something in her left hind hoof?”

  MaGrath reined up. Raising an eyebrow at her, he slid out of the saddle and walked around to the back of the mare. Grabbing the fetlock, he lifted the leg and examined inside the hard horn. The girl was right again. A clump of mud and rock, most likely accumulated last night around the lake’s soft shoreline, had hardened, creating an irritation. He used a twig to pry it out. Remounting, he waited until she snaked her arms back around his waist, underneath his jacket. The knuckles of one hand tapped the canister inside the pocket.

  “Can I have...just a little?”

  It was then he realized this was as close as she would ever come to admitting how much pain she was in. He pulled out the tin and handed it back to her.

  “Lick a finger and dip it in the powder. Put all that’s on your finger onto your tongue, then chase it with water. Want me to wake you when we stop?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  A small smile came over him as she gave a grunt and a shiver. The stuff did taste obnoxious, but it packed a wallop. It wasn’t two minutes later when her lesser injured cheek pressed against his shoulder. Gently, he retied her hands. She’d been right again. The mare was walking a lot smoother. Shaking his head, he nudged the horse forward to catch up with the Battle Lord at the head of the line.

  As he pulled even, he noticed the man’s eyes linger over the figure draped against his back. “I just put her back under,” he told him.

  “She must’ve said something important or you wouldn’t have come up here,” Yulen noted astutely.

  “She asked about you, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

  Yulen cast him a hooded look.

  “She wanted to know how you got your wound.”

  “And you told her.” It was a statement.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  A few seconds passed, and Yulen gave his friend another glance. “I guess I’m going to have to use a crowbar to pry anything else out of you,” he wryly commented. MaGrath laughed aloud.

  “She also wanted to know if you meant what you said.”

  “About?” A ghost of alarm touched his face for a split second. It was so quick, the physician wondered if he’d seen it at all.

  “About her weapons,” he clarified. “She wants them back. She’ll feel more...safer. She’ll feel safer with them.”

  “I gave her my word,” Yulen admitted. “I just hope my men can accept it.” He looked back at the physician. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” MaGrath grinned, and began to rein back to the middle of the line. “She called you an asshole.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Blue

  As he’d promised, MaGrath woke the warrior girl soon after they stopped for midday meal. She sat half-dazed in front of the fire as he pulled some jerky from his saddlebags. When he offered her some, however, she gave him a quizzical look.

  “It’s all I have until one of the soldiers brings in something fresh. Surely you’ve had jerky before.”

  “You mean your soldiers can’t catch something you can fix fast and easy?” She wrinkled her nose, an affectation MaGrath found instantly endearing.

  “Think you can do better?”

  “Damn right...if I had my bow.”

  The physician shrugged. “If you’re feeling up to it, Yulen’s just down the road. Go get it.”

  She looked up at him to make sure he wasn’t teasing her. But when his face showed he was serious, she slowly got to her feet and walked off in the direction he pointed.

  The last thing the Battle Lord expected to see coming up the road was the warrior girl walking toward him in the bright sunlight. Casually, he glanced over her, noting she still wore the bloodstained clothing they’d captured her in three days ago—

  Had it been just three?

  —and made a mental note to see if MaGrath couldn’t find her a clean shirt and pants. It took a second look before the truth sank in, and he finally got the answer he’d been seeking ever since that night he’d first seen her.

  Her hair was a deep, rich indigo blue, nearly black now because it needed a good shampooing.

  Atty noticed where he was staring and stopped directly in front of him, hands on hips, her legs slightly parted. “Okay. So now you know. I came for my weapon.”

  Yulen broke his gaze away, dropping his eyes to where his hands were busy cleaning the blade of his sword. “It’s tied to the saddle. Help yourself.”

  “Thank you.”

  She found the bow and quiver without any problem and slung them over her shoulder to carry back to where MaGrath was settled. She felt it would be safer roaming about carrying them that way, than to wear them correctly. At least this way she wouldn’t look as if she were about to plow a steel tip in someone’s craw if one of the soldiers took offense to her being re-armed.

  On second thought, she put the quiver back and grabbed one of the remaining two arrows. Yulen noticed the exchange and raised an eyebrow. Atty half-shrugged.

  “Only got time for a quick bite, so it can’t be anything big,” she explained, and turned to cross the road, entering the forest on the other side.

  A moment later, the physician walked up to him. “Are you gonna let her go in there alone?”

  Yulen snorted softly. “She’s more capable of taking care of herself in there than if I sent a man along to protect her. Why is she hunting anyway?”

  “Guess she doesn’t like the taste of jerky.” MaGrath raised a hand to shield his eyes against the sun. “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Did you finally satisfy your curiosity?”

  It was several moments before the Battle Lord answered. “It’s blue.”

  “Yep. Does that bother you?”

  “Why would it?”

  MaGrath made a face. “I don’t know. Just wondering, I guess, if it changed the way you looked at her.”

  Yulen sheathed the sword and rose to his feet. “Maybe I like the color blue.”

  MaGrath nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “Same here. Like the blue sky.”

  “Blue flowers.”

  “Yeah. And blue eyes, like hers. Except they’re more blue-gray than pure blue. Much like yours.”

  They were interrupted by the figure emerging from the strand of trees. She carried the carcass of a squirrel slung over one shoulder, its tail hanging down to her waist. The animal had to weigh at least fifteen pounds. Both men stared as she dropped it at their feet, an arrow piercing the beast’s chest, directly in the heart.

  “I can have it cleaned by the time you get a fire started, but it’ll take more than an hour to cook. Sorry,” she apologized. There was a definite twinkle in the one eye that wasn’t covered by the huge bandage.

  “That’s all right. We can have it for supper,” MaGrath told her.

  Atty glanced over at the Battle Lord. “You’re welcome to join us,” she offered, “but on one condition. No more nasty cracks about my people. If you do, I’ll swat you across that pretty canyon on your face. Deal?”

  Yulen managed a relatively painless grin. “Deal.”

  She nodded, picked up the squirrel, and headed back to MaGrath’s fire. The physician looked to his friend. “That couldn’t have taken more than five minutes, right?”

  “And one arrow. Think she’s ready for her own mount?”

  “Yeah. I’ll have one of the corpses doubled up on another horse. Yulen, I know you wanted to take it easy on the way back, but those bodies aren’t getting any fresher.”

  “I know,” the Battle Lord nodded. “We’ll pick it up tomorrow. B
y then we should be nearing Foster City.” He looked critically at the physician at that point. “We may have to cover her hair before we get there, though.”

  MaGrath agreed, then turned to leave.

  “Liam?”

  “Yeah?” He looked back.

  “When you get her that horse, tell her I want her to ride up here next to me,” Yulen told him.

  The physician chose his next words carefully. “Next to you? Or with you?” To his utter astonishment, the Battle Lord didn’t retreat.

  “Either way will be fine with me,” the man replied. “From this point on, I want her to be protected at all times.”

  “And you’re the best man for the job?” MaGrath taunted, although he braced it with a smile.

  Yulen answered him by not answering, but instead began throwing dirt on his fire in preparation for leaving.

  The physician gave a half-hearted chuckle and returned to where the warrior girl was cleaning up after preparing her kill. Before he had the chance to say anything, Atty gave him a small smile.

  “What did he say?”

  “He wants you to get your own mount and ride up in front next to him.”

  “Why? To keep an eye on me? What does he think I’m gonna do? High-tail it back to my compound by myself?”

  For some reason her tart tongue had an adverse effect on him, and MaGrath could feel his temper rising. “Up to this point everything you’ve been allowed has been through his generosity,” he reminded her.

  Atty reached up to gingerly touch the stained bandage covering one whole side of her face. “Yeah. Pity I haven’t had the chance to thank him for that,” she said bitterly.

  She got to her feet and finished wrapping the prepared carcass in the same piece of fabric MaGrath had used to hold his bread and cheese. He watched as she tied the bundle underneath the water skin. “The coolness will help keep it cool until we cook it tonight,” she explained. Looking up at the mounted physician, she said, “I’m sorry. A lot has happened in so short a time. First my mother and sister...” She bit her tongue as a vast flood of memories suddenly overcame her, and Atty bowed her head, still gripping the lacings under the saddle.

  MaGrath paused. Her mother and sister? A horrible thought came to him, and the physician blanched at the possibility. Did they slaughter her mother and sister just prior to her being captured? Was that the real reason why she’d begun to pick them off one by one? Did the Battle Lord’s men kill her family before her eyes?

  Oh, dearest heavens!

  Swallowing heavily, MaGrath excused himself and hurried to the back of the line where the corpses of the men were strung out, tied pony to pony. The sentry stationed there to make sure no predatory animal tried to steal away with one was thankful for the brief diversion. Quickly, the lead horse was untied, its burden placed on the next one in line, and MaGrath led the animal back to where the warrior girl was waiting.

  “It stinks,” she told him, but swung up into the saddle regardless. She tied her bow to the rear saddlebag, then reached for the reins.

  He saw her touch the bandage with her free hand, and his concern grew. “Are you in pain?”

  “It’s...it’s starting to itch.”

  “That’s a good sign,” he smiled with relief. He was also relieved to see that her momentary loss of control had left her eyes red but without revealing any further signs of grief. Yulen didn’t need to see her emotional suffering. Not now, anyway. Their relationship was still too fresh and too rocky to withstand the full impact of what she’d been put through.

  “If it starts to hurt too much, come back here and I’ll give you some more medicine,” he told her.

  “But the medicine will knock me out.”

  “Who’s the doctor around here?” he chided her gently.

  She graced him with another small smile, then clicked her tongue as she dug her heels into the horse’s ribs. The animal jumped forward in response. MaGrath slowly let out a deep breath as he watched her move up to the head of the line that was just beginning to pull back onto the road.

  She had killed sixteen of the Battle Lord’s men, but how many of her people suffered at their hands before she began to fire? Yulen wouldn’t know, but somebody had to.

  The Mutah had names, and families, and shops, and homes and jobs and social skills, and all of those things which proved the difference between a civilized compound from a barbaric enclave. They had schools and castes, not to mention whatever else MaGrath had yet to discover. Back down that road, their men were weeping over close friends they’d watched being killed with no more mercy than Atty had shown that squirrel she’d captured in the woods. But back at her compound, men mourned lost wives, women mourned lost husbands, children mourned lost parents and siblings, lovers lost the other half of their soul...

  First my mother and sister...

  MaGrath prayed Yulen was not directly responsible for her personal loss. The loss of her freedom she could learn to overcome. Yet, for some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, the physician was willing to bet the loss of freedom she was going to have to adjust to had nothing to do with her being taken from her compound.

  It was going to be more personal. More profound. And a lot more enriching.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Beast

  Yulen glanced at the warrior girl for the umpteenth time since she’d joined him at the head of the line, riding to his right. The first thing he’d been aware of was the fact that she sat a horse inexpertly. That could only mean either she seldom rode, or that horses had never been a part of her life while growing up. By tonight her thighs and bottom would be aching from the unaccustomed riding. It was one thing to ride tandem behind someone else holding the reins and guiding the animal. It was a completely different game to be the one having to do the controlling.

  The thought of her thighs aching unfortunately led his mind in a direction he hadn’t expected.

  Is she a virgin?

  Without a doubt.

  Good heavens, what brought him to this?

  Then again, MaGrath had also assured him she was a fully developed woman and not a mere girl. So, why hadn’t she attached herself to a man? If not physically, was there one back at her home compound she’d pledged herself to emotionally?

  Stick to the moment at hand, he growled to himself.

  But she was a Mutah. And wasn’t it a well-known fact that Mutah tended to breed—

  There you go again. What is it going to take to wipe away everything you’ve ever been taught about them? When are you going to realize that for years you’d been fed some half-truths but mostly erroneous information? And afterwards, when are you going to open up your mind and start seeing things for what they really are?

  Where would one begin to learn the truth? he wondered, and his eyes trailed back to the woman bouncing along beside him. What had her life been like? Were there others like her? Other women warriors?

  A comment, a phrase she had said. Something about her being the only one willing to repel his men because the rest couldn’t. Yulen shook his head. It was difficult to concentrate. There was so much to do, so much to think about.

  He saw the way his men watched her. They’d grown tense and restless when they realized she was armed again. But after seeing how their Battle Lord and the physician treated her, despite her being their sworn enemy, they grudgingly allowed the girl to roam without the urge to draw their swords.

  It was impossible, however, to keep their eyes from going back to the end of the line where sixteen of their comrades and friends—some of them kin—awaited burial.

  How would he ever convince those at Alta Novis to accept her?

  Even more disconcerting was the fact that he would have to tell Madigan about her.

  Yulen sighed, not realizing how loudly he’d done so until Atty glanced over his way. “What?”

  He turned back to her. “I said nothing.”

  “Oh. Thought you had.”

  He saw her reach for her face, a
nd he narrowed his eyes. “Are you in pain?”

  The warrior girl let out an exasperated sound. “Why are you and Liam constantly asking me if I’m in pain? If I am, and it becomes intolerable, trust me, I’ll ask for something to help me through it. Otherwise, leave me to my misery, okay?”

  Lifting a hand to show he understood, he kept his eyes on the road even while his imagination ran along other paths.

  Maybe it was part of her culture not to give herself to another until they had declared themselves. Or perhaps she wasn’t allowed to give herself until she’d reached a certain age.

  His eyes swept sideways again. How old was she, anyway? In her woven pants and leather vest and coat, it had been impossible to tell she was even female at first. Not until he’d run his hands over her chest and felt the firm give of her breasts had they even known they were dealing with a woman.

  It could be a warrior issue. Maybe she wasn’t allowed any kind of sexual contact until she passed some kind of initiation rite.

  He was several yards past her when he realized Atty had pulled up, stopping in the middle of the road. Bringing his horse around, he started to call out to her when he saw her face go completely white, her eyes like dark pools in her face. Without a word Yulen threw up his arm, fist closed. Being the precision troops they’d been trained to be, the entire line came to a sudden, silent halt.

  He kept his eyes glued on her until he could detect where she was staring. Slowly, and with great caution, he turned his head to the left. In the soft dirt he could barely make out a set of tracks that disappeared into the dense undergrowth by the side of the road. Turning back to her, he gave a tiny nod. Atty saw it and nodded in response.

  Like two halves of a whole, they each slowly slid off their horses. When Yulen glanced back over to where she would be, his sword already in his hand, he saw she’d also pulled out her bow, her one last arrow already nocked, her arms lifted and ready.

  He looked to her for guidance, not knowing who or what they were facing. Atty threw her eyes his way and motioned with a languid tilt of her head. Straight ahead.