by Linda Mooney
She lifted her face, frozen by the enormity of what had just occurred, and at the same moment her mind registered the danger, the point of a sword emerged from the center of the creature’s chest, as if he’d suddenly grown an extra nipple. As quickly as it had appeared, the point vanished back into the chest, and the Blood dropped where he’d been standing. Behind him, Yulen stared at her, his face completely white. Reaching out his hand, he snagged her arm and hoisted her from her horse onto the back of his mount. Without a word he turned and began plowing through the swarm, heading for the main gate.
When they reached the entrance, Yulen grabbed a handful of her tunic and swung her to the ground where MaGrath snatched her.
“No! No!” she cried out, reaching up to him, but he vanished back into the battle without a backward glance.
“Atty! Atty! You don’t have a weapon!” MaGrath yelled, trying to make her see the validity of what Yulen had done.
She struggled again against his arms that restrained her, but briefly. Her eyes flew to the top of the compound walls, and he realized what she was thinking. He released her and she hurried inside, finding the first ladder and climbing to the catwalk overhead. He’d sworn to Yulen to protect her at all cost. And even if he hadn’t, he was determined to do so anyway. Despite the ache in his older muscles, he tried to keep up with her.
As she swung onto the narrow ledge, a guard stationed at the top caught sight of her. His eyes glued to her hair, and he screamed “Mutah!”, swinging his bow in her direction. Deftly, Atty snatched the weapon from his hands and gave him a hard shove to the chest. The guard lost his balance and tumbled off the ledge to land relatively unhurt on the pile of sandbags several yards below.
She hefted the new, shorter bow, judging its feel and its weight, then glanced below to the fight. She easily spotted the Battle Lord in the thick of the fray, his hair like burnished copper in the failing sunlight. A small barrel of arrows sat on the wooden platform next to her. Quickly she nocked the first arrow, unused to the smaller ammunition, aimed, and let it fly. Although the barb didn’t impact with the same deadly, powerful results of her own longer arrows, she smiled to see they were just as effective at causing irreparable harm at close range.
MaGrath reached the top of the catwalk just as she began to fire, nocking one arrow after another so fast, the string had no time to cease vibrating. The physician stared in awe as the warrior girl no longer aimed for any particular organ or limb. Now she concentrated on just hitting a body, hitting it anywhere she could find an exposed spot, hoping to at least wound the creatures enough to slow them down.
Another guard came running from the other side of the parapet and skidded to a stop at MaGrath’s upraised hand. His eyes were like saucers as he watched the girl launch arrow after arrow as quickly as she was able with the unfamiliar bow. Another glance below proved her effectiveness—and the fact that she was one of the enemy supposedly killing those of her kind. He opened his mouth to yell at her, when the physician got his attention.
“Feed her more arrows!” he screamed above the din. “And keep the arrows coming!” The guard nodded, swallowing hard, and raced off to get more.
* * * *
Below, Yulen’s eyes darted to the battlement as an arrow exploded a breath away from his shoulder. The creature intent on climbing up into the saddle with him shrieked with pain and fell away as it fought the shaft protruding from its ear. Atty stood rooted to the platform like a vengeful spirit, firing steadily at a rate he couldn’t begin to fathom. Another arrow flew over his head, and as the tip met the hurled dagger, the sound of metal meeting metal clanged like a bell.
It wasn’t long before the Blood horde began to see it wasn’t going to succeed, and the battle began to taper off as the creatures turned and fled back into the relative safety of the forest to nurse their wounds.
Yulen stood in his stirrups and watched as his men continued to cut down the stragglers with calm efficiency. Once he was certain the fighting was finished, he rode over to where Mastin and Karv were on the ground, cleaning their swords on the bodies of the fallen enemy. Karv gave his leader a cursory glance, but not before Yulen could see the expression in the man’s eyes.
“Tosh Karv? Gather a dozen men and return to where the caravan left the dead, and bring them home.”
The reinstated Second nodded once and hurried off to his horse. Mastin waited to see what his new position would be. The last thing he expected was for Yulen to tap him on the shoulder with the tip of his sword.
“Co-captain of the Guard,” the Battle Lord stated.
“But...Karv is your Second!”
“And where is it written I’m allowed just one?” Yulen grinned. “You’ve proven yourself, Cole. I’d never reduce you to a rank that wasn’t equal to your loyalty. Gather up the men and have them strip the bodies. Send Verris to me when you see him. Then I want to see all three of you in the main hall in an hour.”
“Yes, sir.”
Having taken care of the essentials, Yulen gave the stallion its head and let the animal happily trot back to the compound. Overhead, he saw Atty leaning over the reinforced wall. Once she noticed he was coming inside, she vanished back over the side to descend the ladder.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Refusal
The inhabitants of the compound were jubilant over their victory. Lights were lit and lanterns were hung to chase away the darkness that was rapidly descending. Men cheered over their victory and the return of their Battle Lord. Yulen searched the yelling, exuberant crowd, trying to spot where Atty was climbing down. Finding her, Yulen pulled his horse next to the ladder, and she launched herself into the saddle in front of him.
There was almost a minor incident when one of the guards, who hadn’t seen Atty on the parapet, now caught sight of the woman with the unusual hair, and he raised a cry, advancing toward the couple in order to protect the Battle Lord. It was a soldier from the caravan who blocked the man’s way and emphatically shook his head. Everyone watched in silent disbelief as their leader slowly rode toward the main lodge with the mutant woman in his arms.
There was going to be enough fodder for gossip to fuel every tongue in the compound for weeks.
They reached the main lodge where Atty saw an older woman standing beneath the shelter of a striped awning, watching their return. From the gray in her brown hair and the grim set of her mouth, Atty knew she couldn’t be one of Yulen’s mistresses.
The Battle Lord brought the horse to a halt in front of the woman. Sliding out of the saddle, he strode over and gave her a warm hug, which she returned with a kiss. He then went back to his horse and held up his hand to help Atty dismount. She dropped lightly to the ground.
“Madigan,” he announced softly, leading Atty under the awning, “this is Atrilan Ferran. Atty, Madigan D’Jacques. My mother.”
Atty remained rooted to where she stood as the woman’s brown eyes took in every inch of her, especially her tangle of hair.
“You’re bringing one of the enemy within our fold?” Madigan asked. She had a husky voice, as if she suffered from a chest cold.
“She’s no longer the enemy,” Yulen corrected.
“She’s a Mutah.”
“Good eye, Madigan.”
She shot him a baleful glare. “No smartass remarks, Yul. Are you coming in, or do you need to see to your men first?”
“I’m having my Seconds taking care of things at the moment,” he told her, and gave Atty a little push, urging her to go inside. He nodded to MaGrath, who tagged along behind.
Atty stared around the room as they entered the main hall. Like the main lodge in Foster City, one entire wall contained an enormous stone fireplace. But that was where all semblance ended. Zane Batuset was a bachelor, and his lodge reflected his enjoyment of the hunt by the mounted animals, heads, and skins covering the walls. Here, in Alta Novis, the walls displayed an assortment of weapons. Above the long oak mantel were three pairs of swords, set at intervals along the wall.
On another wall was a virtual collection of short swords, daggers, a couple of maces, a lance, a pair of crossbows—Atty’s eyes widened at the arsenal on display. She looked over at Yulen in surprise.
“My father and grandfather collected weapons of all kinds,” Yulen explained.
Madigan made her way to the stuffed chair before the fireplace and motioned for them to sit. Yulen politely declined.
“Give us a chance to clean up first.”
“Us?” the older woman emphasized.
“Yes. Us.”
“Very well. I’ll have the woman—”
“Her name is Atrilan. You can call her Atty,” Yulen interrupted to remind her curtly.
Madigan leaned forward in her chair. “Okay. Let’s just drop the pretense altogether. Give me the bottom line, Yul.”
“I’ve asked Atty to come live here.”
“Asked her? For what purpose?” Looking to MaGrath, she demanded, “What’s your dealings with this Mutah?”
“Don’t call me that,” Atty interjected.
“When I want to hear from you, I’ll address you directly,” Madigan said sharply. “Liam?”
“If I’m a Mutah, then you’re a rude and despicable woman,” Atty shot back.
For a moment it appeared that the older woman might rise from her chair and strike the warrior girl. Liam stepped forward just in case. “Don’t judge her until you get to know her,” the physician responded in a gentler tone of voice.
“I don’t care to, nor do I want to get to know her. I’ve been told she killed sixteen of our men.”
“She also helped me to repel that horde of Bloods,” Yulen said firmly.
“What are Bloods? You mean that army of Mutah like her?”
“They’re nothing like me,” Atty returned. She kept her fists clenched by her side and hoped this interrogation would soon be over. “They’re the dregs of humanity. My people consider them to be unsalvageable. They’ve attacked my compound at least a dozen times that I can remember.”
“Your compound?” Madigan glanced up at her son. “Is that where you found her? In her compound?” By her sarcastic tone of voice, the older woman made it clear she wouldn’t believe Mutah were capable of something as civilized as maintaining a compound.
“Her ability with a bow is beyond extraordinary,” MaGrath continued. “She’ll be able to teach our men valuable tricks and tips.”
Madigan continued to scan the faces of her son and the woman. Slowly her face grew red with suppressed anger. “You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you, Yul?”
“She’s staying with me in my quarters, if that’s what you mean,” he countered almost casually, refusing to back down or show remorse. Atty felt his hand at her back. Slipping one of her hands behind her, she was relieved to feel his fingers lace through hers.
“Well, then, I guess there’s nothing I can do about that now, can I? The damage has already been done.”
Atty flared. “Damage?”
“I just hope to God you’re using some kind of protection, Yul. I’d hate to think of what kind of creature she would give birth to.”
This time it was Yulen who stepped forward and grabbed the woman by the shoulders, lifting her out of chair and holding her inches away from his face where he addressed her in a low, threatening voice.
“Okay, Mother. Enough is enough. Listen very carefully because I will only tell you this once. I am pledging Atrilan my heart, and, God willing, she’ll pledge hers to me. I don’t know yet for certain because I haven’t asked her. But if she does, then I’ll be posting our banns on the front of the doors to this hall in the morning. Once she becomes my wife, and if we are ever blessed with children, your grandchildren, Madigan, you will keep your tongue in your head and accept them. Am I making myself clear?”
He released her, shoving her backwards until her legs hit the chair seat, and she sat heavily upon the overstuffed cushion.
“Until we are wed, Atty remains untouched. Talk to Liam if you don’t believe me. Atty has proven her allegiance to me and to Alta Novis, or didn’t you notice how she helped protect the compound a few minutes ago?” Looking over at MaGrath, Yulen said, “See if you can pound some sense in her head, Liam. Maybe our encounter with the bull ferret might give her a different perspective. In the meantime, we’re going to our quarters to clean up. Berta!”
From the knot of servants who had been huddled at the inter-connecting door leading from the main hall to the kitchen, an older woman disengaged herself and approached the small group. “Sir?”
“A late supper tray, if you can, please.”
“Anything in particular?”
Yulen paused. “Just be sure to include a mug of milk,” he ordered, hiding a smile. “Atty, come.”
Holding her hand, he led her up the wide staircase that was almost a duplicate of the one in Foster City, with the exception of the garland of morning glories wrapped around the banister. In the back of his mind, Yulen noticed the blue color of the closed blossoms, but continued upward without stopping.
Madigan turned around once they were out of sight, and was met with an angry expression. “I haven’t done anything wrong,” she defended herself.
“Oh, yes, you have. Yulen is risking everything so he and Atty can be together, and do you offer him a moment’s peace?” Rather than wait for an answer, MaGrath turned on his heel and started out of the room.
“Liam! Wait!”
He paused, slowly turning back around. Rory D’Jacques had been his best friend, and while the man had lived MaGrath had kept his feelings for Madigan to himself, having loved her just as deeply, but losing her when he’d gone to Far Troit to pursue his passion in learning the medicinal arts. When Yulen had been born, he’d rejoiced at the news, and secretly thought of the man as the son he’d never had. Now, ever since Rory’s death, he had waited for Madigan to give him a sign that her mourning was at an end, and he could ask her to accept him.
“Liam.” She hurried over and laid a hand on the man’s arm. “I can’t accept that woman as Yulen’s wife. I just can’t. Don’t you at least understand?” she pleaded softly.
He nodded. “Yes, Maddy, I can. But you have to look at this from a different perspective. Yulen is all too aware he lost his father to Mutah. He’ll never forget that. But this woman is not what you’re trying to make her. She lost her family because of our people. We went into her village and began slaughtering people she’d grown up with, with no more thought or conscience than if we’d been cleaning fish. Yet something happened between them. Something wonderful and rare and very beautiful. You need to watch the both of them when they’re together. Watch them, Maddy. If you’re wanting a wife for Yulen who is his equal, a woman who’ll risk her life for his, who’ll show him the same amount of passion and loyalty, then try to find it in your heart to accept her. Trust me when I say this. Despite all things, Rory would have accepted her.”
“Are you sure?” Madigan whispered tearfully. “He’s my only child, but she’s...she’s...”
“She’s different, yes. But at some point love is transcending all of this. All the differences, all the hate we’ve cultivated for each other for all these years...” MaGrath shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” He glanced at the top of the stairs, then back into eyes he knew could be warm and tender. “Remember how you felt about Rory? Remember how he held you? And loved you? And protected you at all cost?” He pointed toward Yulen’s rooms. “Like father, like son. Goodnight, Madigan. I’ll see you in the morning.” Giving her a small smile, he kissed the corner of her mouth and left her standing in the middle of the main hall.
Stillness descended in the great room, but the lone woman standing beside the enormous fireplace could sense nothing but a deep, empty ache in her heart. She’d lost the greatest love of her life, and believed she was about to lose the son created by that love. More than anything, she was terrified now that she’d made a mistake that could never be forgiven by the one man she had hoped she could spen
d the rest of her life with.
Lifting her hands to her face, she cried silently and retreated to her rooms at the other end of the lodge.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Pledge
“Yul, it’s okay,” she told him softly, watching as he angrily shoved a chair into a small writing table that sat against a wall.
“She had no right to talk to you like that,” he began.
“Don’t you think I hear talk like that any time I come across other Normals? Yulen...” She went over and grabbed his arm, turning him around so he would look directly at her. “Yul, don’t you think your own men have thought the same thing? Only they didn’t say it aloud because they knew what you’d do if you heard it. Or if it got back to you.”
He stared down at blue-gray eyes that were open and honest, and painfully worried. Sighing loudly he swept her into his arms and felt her mouth reaching up for his. All during the day he’d been wanting to feel her like this, ready for his touch, ready to give him her love as she received his in return. His body and mind centered on hers as they clung to each other, oblivious to the sounds of the compound settling in for the night. Oblivious to the faint echoes coming in from outside the windows. Of the sound of families weeping as they learned of their loved ones’ demise. Oblivious to the rapping at the door. At first.
Reluctantly he pulled away from her and walked over to unlock his bedroom door. Berta stood at the threshold with a heavily-laden tray. He started to take it from her when she drew back slightly.