The Battle Lord's Lady
Page 34
“We had no business hunting down and destroying entire families and communities, just because they were Mutah. Just because they were...different,” Yulen continued in a distant voice. “They’re trying to survive, just like us. Trying to survive day after day, hoping to find someone to cherish along the way. Just like us.”
Getting slowly to his feet, Yulen stretched and let out a deep sigh, but kept his vigil at the window. MaGrath heard the suffering that wouldn’t let up in his breath. He turned and left, closing the door behind him, and leaving Yulen to watch the coming twilight uninterrupted.
Walking down the stairs, the physician spotted the woman waiting for him at the landing. “Well?” she asked softly.
MaGrath nodded. “He promised he would stand by us, but declined the festivities afterwards.”
Madigan sucked in a trembling breath. “I’m losing my son,” she told him. “Before this, I always believed there was no such thing as dying from a broken heart. But it really exists, doesn’t it?” Walking into his embrace, the woman pressed her face to his shoulder. “How much longer, Liam? You’re the expert. How much longer can he go on like this?”
He placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “I don’t know, Maddy. I honestly don’t know. But we can’t dwell on it. At least, not for the next few days. We have a wedding to plan.” Pulling her back to arm’s length, he gave her a warm and loving smile. “Ironic, isn’t it, that Atty’s also responsible for bringing us finally together?”
Madigan gave him a tender smile in return and allowed him to walk her to her bedchambers he now shared with her.
The following day, the two of them were surprised to see the Battle Lord emerge from his rooms to take a seat at the breakfast table. The soldiers also taking their meal in the main hall were also aware of his unexpected presence. Since Yulen’s return, Mastin and Paxton had assumed the Battle Lord’s duties, directing any requests and questions they couldn’t field themselves to MaGrath or Madigan.
Now, it seemed as if the man was voluntarily rejoining the human race. Deep down, MaGrath doubted it. Out of love for his mother, the man was going to attempt to make the next few days less stressful for her, and allow her to concentrate on her upcoming nuptials.
The physician kept a watchful eye on the Battle Lord as the man resumed his duties as well. Life returned to a semblance of normalcy, until Farragen, the stone mason, approached him late one afternoon. “Hey, MaGrath, do you know where the Battle Lord is?”
Glancing up from the table where he’d been mixing a sleeping powder, MaGrath shrugged. “Have you tried the stables?”
“Yeah, but they said he left there some time ago.”
“Then I can’t tell you. Do you need him now, or can it wait until later this evening? He’ll be taking supper soon.”
The stone mason made a face, leaving the physician with the impression that a decision had to be made one way or another.
“What is it? Maybe I can be of some help.”
“Well, it has to do with this memorial he wants for the Battle Lady.”
His words instantly put MaGrath on alert. Trying to hide the shaking in his hands, the physician wiped them on a towel and turned around to give the man his full attention. “Go on.”
“I forgot to ask him if he wanted me to put a date on it under her name, or leave it with just the inscription.” The stone mason handed over a piece of paper.
MaGrath stared at the simple rectangular drawing Yulen had ordered to have made. Across the face of the granite slab were to be the words “Atrilan Ferran D’Jacques”. Underneath, the simple word “Forever”. The physician closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. Yulen was trying to find his own measure of closure. It was the first tentative step toward healing. Toward accepting. Toward continuing on with his life, as empty and as long as it would be. The man had finally realized Atty wouldn’t have wanted him to suffer any longer. And that by going on with his life, he was keeping her memory alive in him.
While he lived, so did she.
At least, that’s what MaGrath hoped—and prayed—it meant.
Handing back the piece of paper, MaGrath told him, “Do it exactly as he requested.”
The mason shrugged and left. MaGrath hurried to clean up his mess so he could go tell Madigan what he’d found out.
On the morning of the wedding, the weather turned cool. Clouds bunched together in the sky, threatening rain, but preparations continued outside with the hope the rains would hold off until after the ceremony. A brisk wind appeared from the northwest, bringing with it the smell of one final cool front before winter finally let go.
MaGrath looked up from where he stood before the mirror, checking to make sure he had all his buttons were secured in correct sequence, to see Yulen standing behind him. For the first time in days the man looked almost like his old self.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Yulen asked, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
“I don’t have much choice, do I?” MaGrath replied with a mock grimace. “I’ve already drawn up a new will.”
Yulen clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder, and the physician reached over to give it a pat. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you about something,” MaGrath mentioned.
“About what? As if there’s not another hundred or so things I’ve been neglecting that all of a sudden need my immediate attention right this moment.”
“It’s about Atty’s memorial.”
Yulen’s face went hard as MaGrath watched the man close the gates around his heart for protection. “What about it?” No questions as to how he’d found out. Just a simple request.
“Where did you plan to put it?” MaGrath asked softly.
Yulen lowered his eyes and bit his lips. “Under the shade of that old sycamore over on the south side of the compound. It has the most beautiful gold leaves in the fall. I thought she’d like it there.”
The physician nodded. “Yeah, she would.” Giving the man’s hand another pat, he forced a smile. “Do you still have the ring? Or do I need to start panicking now?”
Yulen narrowed his eyes at the man, and the ghost of a smile reappeared. “In my pocket, Liam.”
Subconsciously, MaGrath’s eyes were drawn to the platinum ring Yulen wore on the outside of his ceremonial tunic. The man never took it off, even when he took sword practice with the soldiers out in the compound.
Nodding, he left the guestroom where he’d gotten dressed and headed for the courtyard with Yulen directly behind him. He kept a close watch over the Battle Lord, knowing that at some point the man would have a reaction to the day’s festivities. It had only been three weeks ago to the day that he and Atty had said their vows, and the memory was still as painful as the cut across his chest.
Like they had before, the populace of Alta Novis was out to celebrate the wedding. It was to be an all-day event, with feasting and merriment, until the darkest hours of the night. Even Yulen had relented and lightened the soldiers’ schedule, reducing the number of guards on duty and shortening their hours on watch so no one would miss out on the activities for too long.
Out in the courtyard, Folchen awaited the party underneath the white tent, which had been draped with Madigan’s favorite purple scarves. Yulen managed a tender smile when he presented his mother to the man who had always been like a second father to him.
“Love and long life, Mother,” he whispered in her ear, then kissed her cheek. She smiled in return before placing her hand in MaGrath’s, and turning to face the man of faith.
The wedding, from beginning to end, only lasted fifteen minutes. It wasn’t until MaGrath began to recite the words for the exchange of rings that he saw the torment filling Yulen’s eyes from where he stood behind them. Quickly he averted his own eyes and kept his mind on the ceremony.
“In front of all those present, I now pronounce these two to be husband and wife! May no man break their bonds of love!” Folchen lowered his arms to congratulate the couple as the people began to cheer.
Leaving the tent, Yulen walked up to address his Second sharply. “Karv, what is the meaning of this? Why aren’t you at Bearinger? You were not given orders to return.”
Instead of answering, the shorter man dismounted and strode up to face him directly. Then, without warning, he gave a nod to the others who had accompanied him into the compound. The men dismounted and drew their weapons.
Yulen, momentarily distracted watching the other riders, never saw the metal glove come crashing down against the side of his head. He collapsed to his knees as people around cried out. Behind him he could vaguely hear his mother’s shout of anger as he fought passing out.
Within seconds, Tosh Karv had the Battle Lord at his feet. Around him his men had also taken Madigan and MaGrath prisoner.
“Listen up, people of Alta Novis!” the Second yelled out. “Listen well! I am declaring myself now Battle Lord of this compound! I have taken D’Jacques as prisoner, as well as the immediate ruling family! Therefore, by my rights, I claim this compound now to be under my rule!”
“What are you doing, Karv?” Yulen demanded harshly. Blood flowed from the gash in his scalp, and dripped onto his tunic. His head felt like it would crack open like an egg at any moment.
“Only getting what I deserve,” the man told him, smiling bitterly.
“And why would you think that for one moment you deserve this? What’s gotten into you?”
Mastin and a company of soldiers burst through the crowd. They skidded to a halt upon seeing their Battle Lord with a sword pointed at his neck. Karv gave the new Second a withering look.
“Go ahead, Cole. Try to rescue your Mutah loving leader now. Better tell him to stand down, Yulen, or I’ll order my man to put a dagger through your mother’s heart.” He grabbed Yulen by the hair and jerked his head around so he could see where one of Karv’s soldiers held a knife against Madigan’s breast. There was no doubt in Yulen’s mind Karv would make good on his promise. He signaled to Mastin to lower his weapons.
“Very good, Yulen. Now declare Alta Novis mine.”
“And when I do, what happens to us?”
Strangely, Karv laughed, as if he’d gotten the punch line of a good joke. “Oh, trust me, I have plenty planned for you. After all, I’ve had a long time to think these things through while I’ve been watching over Bearinger. By the way, you severely underestimated Collaunt’s popularity over there. I found at least two dozen supporters who are eager and more than willing to support me in any future endeavors, beginning with my taking of this compound. Besides, I have never forgiven you for what you did to me that night in the Mutah compound.”
“You nearly killed Atty with your brutality, when I’d specifically given you orders to leave her be.”
“She was Mutah! And you showing her special favors was making me sick! That’s why I ordered those plant fibers put in her water. Couldn’t have that Mutah bitch tainting this place any more than she already had.”
A red mist seemed to fall over Yulen’s eyes. Behind him he could hear MaGrath’s growl of anger. “It was you who poisoned her?” the physician hissed.
“I’m just sorry it took so long to finally do her in. Damned Mutah body of hers fought it for too long. I’ve never used Borash before. I was hoping to see how it would affect her. Was it an agonizing death, Yulen?” Karv grabbed another handful of the Battle Lord’s hair and jerked his face upward. Yulen gasped from the pain, nearly passing out. He drew a shuddering breath. The pounding in his head wasn’t going to diminish any time soon. He would have to deal with it and come up with some way to defeat Karv before the man gained complete control of the place.
With any luck, Maston and Verris would be able to gather enough men to defeat whatever troops Karv had brought with him. The only obstacle in their way would be their reluctance to take that next step, knowing it could mean the life of their Battle Lord.
Verris. He’d left the Second in command of Bearinger, along with Karv. “What have you done with Verris?” Yulen asked hotly.
“Oh, he’s still back at the compound, but in a nice little holding cell while my men wait for word of my success,” Karv grinned.
A coldness came over Yulen. It became a grim yet somehow welcomed finality. It was as if another door was opening up for him, and he could see a warm, shining answer at the end of what he thought would be an endless, black corridor. If he ordered his men to attack, they would, without question, but it would mean his death. Yet, his death would end Karv’s attempt to control Alta Novis. Meanwhile, the treaty he had sealed with the Mutah would protect the compound for years. And with Collaunt gone, it would be a long, long time before anyone with enough power would be able to challenge his people.
And he...he would be able to be with Atty again.
“Talk to me, oh great Battle Lord,” Karv taunted. “Declare Alta Novis mine.” The Second raised his face to nod to the man holding Madigan, giving him the go-ahead to slit the woman’s throat.
A breath of air entered the tent, followed by a soft pop. The soldier holding Madigan staggered two steps, then fell over sideways. An arrow protruded from the man’s helmet, embedded where his left eye had been.
Another buzzing sound zipped by, like an angry bee. The man restraining MaGrath let out a gurgling sound, and he slowly slid to a heap behind the physician with a long shaft sticking out of both sides of his neck.
MaGrath turned to stare at Yulen, his eyes wide as saucers.
Two more wooden angels of death drilled the air, and two more of Karv’s men dropped where they’d stood, killed instantly by precise head shots through their helmets and into the brain.
Yulen felt his heart stop. All sense of reality and time ceased as all the blood in his body pooled to the center of his heart. Dimly he heard the physician exclaim in a choking voice, “Oh, dearest God in Heaven! There’s only person I know who can shoot like that!”
Karv sensed what he knew couldn’t be the truth. Grasping Yulen’s head once more, he jerked it back to expose the Battle Lord’s throat and lifted his sword, digging its point where the man’s neck met his shoulder. One swift thrust downward would instantly kill him, slicing into his heart along the way.
“Where are you, Mutah bitch?” the Second screamed. He glanced about, searching the crowd. “Come out and show yourself!” Karv lifted his arm, pressing his weapon further into Yulen’s neck, until a fine trickle of blood began to pour down the front of his tunic. “Obey me, you blue-haired freak! Obey me right n—”
Karv gasped, cut off in mid-word, in mid-breath. With disbelieving eyes he shakily looked down at the arrow that somehow had magically appeared in the hollow of his throat, right above the breastplate of his armor. His eyes traveled up to where the crowd was beginning to move, parting and crying out in surprise and relief as they made room for the figure purposefully striding forward in the middle of them.
A figure dressed in a long white linen dress.
Holding out her longbow with another arrow cocked and aimed directly at Karv.
Slowly, deliberately, Atty advanced one careful step at a time. Her head remained tilted over the slender shaft pulled back in her hand. Her face was expressionless. Cold. Deadly.
Karv stared at her, unable to believe, unable to comprehend.
She paused and drew the arrow back another fraction of an inch. Her eyes glittered, ready for the kill.
“What are you waiting for, bitch!” Karv smiled, chuckling hoarsely. The chuckle turned into a phlegmy-sounding cough. Then, without warning, he lifted his arm to ram the sword downward.
Atty never moved as she released the arrow. The arrow sang before barb punched through the man’s wrist, punctured the gold-colored breastplate, and effectively pinned the sword arm against his body. The wea
pon spun to the ground from nerveless fingers.
Karv swayed and stepped backwards, releasing Yulen to reach for the arrow in his throat with his free hand. A fine spray of dark pink bubbles cascaded down his chest as the man began to choke on his own blood.
Casually, Atty reached back in her quiver, pulling out another arrow while never taking her eyes off the man she’d always known would try to hurt her again. Her face was carved in stone as she nocked it and drew back on the string. Tilting her head to check her target, she pulled back even further, until the ends of the longbow vibrated from the strain. Then she waited.
I was trained so that when I hunt, I aim to either capture or kill. With him, I wanted nothing more than to kill.
A look of utter finality passed over Tosh Karv’s face. He knew would die today, and he would be shown no mercy. Given no second chance. It would all end here. Today.
Now.
Crimson anger washed over him, staining his face with his hate and disgust. As a last ditch effort, Karv reached for the dagger at his hip, even though he knew he would never have a chance to use it, much less free it from its sheath.
Atty released the last arrow. It pierced the direct center of the man’s face, killing him almost instantly.
Karv’s body fell to its knees, then slowly pitched forward into the packed dirt.
Yulen struggled to his feet, unable to tear his eyes away from the woman who dropped her weapons to the ground and began to run toward him. He cried aloud when she fell into his arms, warm and alive and sobbing tears of relief. Unable to withstand the shock, he collapsed again to his knees as she covered his face with kisses.
“They never told me you came for me!” she cried aloud. “They never told me!”
Yulen shuddered. His hands touched her, but it was all too unreal, too unbelievable, too much for his wounded heart to accept. “Atrilan?” He was trembling and at the point of passing out.
She ripped away part of the hem of her dress and used it to wipe away the blood still seeping from the wounds on his head and neck. With every touch she continued to kiss him as her own tears fell onto his tunic and the front of her gown.