by Linda Mooney
His arms went around her waist, and suddenly it was as if his body could accept her as being there with him as he crushed her against him. Pressing his face into her unbound hair, Yulen wept openly and unashamedly.
Behind them Madigan started to reach for them when MaGrath embraced her and held her back. They would have their chance to welcome her home later. But first, at this moment, she had to bring Yulen back to life.
Atty lifted his face and found his lips, giving herself completely to him like a healing balm. The past few weeks had been hard and tormenting as she fought to recover from her poisoning. During that time, when she had been lost in her delirium, she had called out for him. Her sweat-soaked dreams had been filled with him. Her weakened body had ached for him. She had cried nightly for him, and by day she had begged to be with him again.
Her people had had no choice but to bring her back when she’d gotten well enough.
Bring her back to him. Bring her back...home.
“Atrilan?” Yulen whispered again. He cupped her face in his hands and stared at her beautiful, beloved features with red-rimmed eyes. “My love. My wife.”
Pressing her hands to his chest, Atty’s fingers encountered the length of lacing and the silver-colored ring it held. “Fortune told me he gave you something that rightfully belongs to me. I want it back,” she whispered, smiling into his eyes.
Yulen reached up and jerked the lacing from around his neck. The ring dropped into her palm. Taking it from her, his eyes remained locked on her face. “With this ring, I take you as my wife.” He paused to look down as he slipped the band over her finger. “Until death takes us both.”
Her kiss was a warm as the spring sun.
He held her tightly as they shakily got to their feet. Steadying himself, Yulen lifted her into his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he kissed her lovingly again.
This time he walked slowly and steadily toward the main lodge as the crowd moved aside to let the couple go by, crying and cheering as they passed. Overhead a loud, clanging noise erupted. Mastin had scurried up the outside ladder to the tower and was ringing the announcement bell, to the delight of everyone.
As the clouds began to rain lightly upon the festivities, no one minded as they watched their Battle Lord and Lady ascend the staircase up to the second landing and disappear into their bedroom. Where, true to his promise, Yulen locked the door behind them, not to open it again for the next seven days.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Mercenary
It would be a fortunate circumstance if he could finally reach Alta Novis just as the snow began to fall. The sky had been gradually growing grayer and dirtier as the day progressed, forcing Renken to push his horse in order to reach a safe place to spend the night. Hopefully, a warm and dry place where he might even be lucky to find a bite to eat.
As he topped the rise, he found himself overlooking the immense compound. Flying above roof of the main lodge, he spotted the red and blue banner telling him he’d found what he’d been seeking for the past three weeks. Already he could see in the distance where the new outer wall was being built, and the edge of the forest was being cleared back even further to accommodate the growth in the population. He nudged his horse forward the same time fat pellets of puffy snow started pelting him.
Nearing the main gates a sentry called down to him. Renken raised his sword hilt-up, signifying his peaceful intent. A single door swung open, allowing him access. Once inside the main wall of the compound, three more guards surrounded him. One took his reins as a safety measure.
“Ho, Stranger. Who are you, and what are you doing out on such a nasty evening?” one of the other men questioned him.
“The name’s Garet Renken. I’ve come all the way from Saint Loolville to offer my sword and my allegiance to your Battle Lord, Yulen D’Jacques.”
“You’re welcome to take a meal in the main lodge,” the soldier informed him, “but if you want our honest opinion whether we think the Battle Lord will accept your sword, we doubt it, mercenary. D’Jacques wants his men for their loyalty. And, trust me, Renken, he has more than enough men willing to give him that, and more.”
They allowed him to keep his weapons, which told Renken the compound was more than adequately guarded. Any outward sign of aggression, and he was either a dead man or a seriously endangered one.
The interior of the main lodge was a nice surprise for the weary traveler. Instead of the walls being festooned with trophies and other battle-won miscellanea, apparently the Battle Lord held high esteem for weaponry. Especially beautifully crafted and hand-wrought spears, lances, and bows. Beneath a mantel showcasing several magnificent pairs of swords, a fireplace the size of a small house kept a blaze alive. The lodge was warm, and the mercenary already could feel himself starting to grow a bit lethargic.
At the farthest end of the lodge was a staircase leading up to where he understood the Battle Lord lived, along with the immediate family. His sources had told him the man’s mother was still alive and had remarried some months ago. But that wasn’t the woman he’d heard the most about.
Renken took a seat at one of the long tables where a few other soldiers relaxed and conversed over their supper at the opposite end. A servant woman brought him a trencher of food and a mug of cold beer. He thanked her and removed his coat and gloves, shaking off clumps of snow onto the floor. Throwing the outerwear on the bench beside him, he sat down to dive into his first decent meal in several days.
More soldiers entered the main lodge to sit down and be served. Most, if not all of them, gave him a curious, cursory glance as they passed by. It was to be expected. Renken was used to the stares, just as he was used to the fleeting looks of disgust he got once people knew his occupation. Well, with any luck, it would all come to an end. Hopefully tonight. If not, tomorrow. He was tired of the road. Tired of not having a home to call his own. More than that, he was ready to find someone willing to share a roof. Someone he’d be content to spend the rest of his life with.
Which was probably the biggest reason why he’d chosen to seek it all in Alta Novis.
He’d heard so many stories about the Battle Lord and his Lady, they were beginning to sound like tall tales. It was difficult, if not impossible, to separate the outlandish from the improbable, although most of them bordered on the fantastic either way.
There were also the stories about the strength of their love, and the incredible fact that the two of them had almost single-handedly forged the recent treaties between normals and Mutah. That alone would be enough of a draw for anyone.
Renken had to come see if any of the stories regarding D’Jacques and his Mutah wife were true. Because if there was even one tiny iota of truth to them, this was where he wanted to stay. He wanted his name, and his legacy, to be linked with theirs.
Atrilan. Her name is Atrilan, but everyone calls her Atty.
“Ho, stranger,” one of the soldiers at the end of the table greeted him.
Renken glanced down to where the four men sat, enjoying tankards of warm cider. Despite the fact they wore full weapon belts, their attire was casual, making it difficult to tell rank. He nodded, mouth full.
“Getting cold enough out there for you?” the soldier continued. He appeared older than the other three, and more than likely was one of the seasoned veterans. He would be able to answer Renken’s answers about the Battle Lord and his Lady, if the man was affable enough.
“It’s gonna get colder,” Renken answered, taking a swig from his mug. “By the way, the name’s Renken.” Motioning toward the armament covering the walls, he commented, “Is all that for show? Or does it ever get used?”
The knot of men chuckled. “It gets used, but not in war. The Battle Lady likes to keep her skills honed by learning on them,” one of them commented.
Renken smiled inwardly. The man had opened the door he’d been hoping he would be allowed to enter, and it had been done without his seeming to pry.
“You know, in S
aint Loolville, the stories of the Battle Lady seem...well...”
“Farfetched?” the soldier offered.
“Yeah. Farfetched. Have you seen the woman in action? Do any of these tales hold a grain of truth?”
“What kind of tales are you wondering about?” the older man asked. One of soldiers next to him began to snicker, but he was quickly shushed by a playful backhanded slap from the veteran.
“Oh, many of them. Like the story of the burning horse. Did she really set that creature aflame from over a hundred yards away?”
The veteran nodded. “Saw her do it with my own eyes.”
“In a blinding rainstorm?”
“She does use a longbow,” another one of the soldiers reminded him. “It’s her preferred weapon of choice. Her specialty.”
“And the one about the three arrows? At three separate targets? Set at fifty-foot intervals?”
One soldier raised his hand. “I can confirm that one! God, it was one magnificent shot!”
“And the story of the bull ferret. Surely most of that was fictitious. After all, no one’s ever killed a bull ferret with one arrow. It can’t be done.”
The small group nodded. “I saw the creature’s body after she’d done it,” a third soldier spoke up. “Got him right in the mouth. It went through the venom sac, directly into the brain.”
The veteran smiled. “Anything else you’d like to ask, Renken?”
“Yeah. She’s really Mutah, right?”
The man nodded, eyes suddenly narrowed. Years of placing his life in danger warned Renken the veteran had become defensive. The realization fascinated the mercenary.
“Is her hair really the color of ripe blueberries?”
“Blueberries?” the second soldier echoed. He grinned, chuckling. “I never thought of that one before. Yeah, it’s blue. A real dark blue. But after a while you don’t notice it. And then you can’t imagine her with it any other color. You could say it’s what makes Atty...well, Atty.”
“Can we ask why you’re here?” the veteran questioned him.
Renken knew the man was still perturbed by his Mutah comment. If he planned on making this compound his permanent home, he knew he couldn’t start off on the wrong foot by antagonizing some of the seasoned soldiers. Especially the ones who’d fought at the Battle Lord’s side. The men D’Jacques trusted. With patience, luck, and time, Renken hoped he might be able to join that elite circle. “I want to pledge my sword to the Battle Lord. And hopefully be able to make myself a home here.”
The third soldier drained his mug and got to his feet. “What makes you think he’d be willing to accept a mercenary? You sell your arm to the highest bidder. Do you think D’Jacques could ever trust a man who might turn on him because the Battle Lord from the next compound down the road had a heavier purse?”
Renken nodded his head and stared down at his nearly empty bowl. “I anticipated such comments and thoughts. That’s why I know I’ll be spending a lot of my time and effort trying to prove myself. So be it. But there’s no where else I want to go. I’m finished with the mercenary business. My arm won’t be strong forever. I’m tired of the endless road. I want stability. And, hopefully, a family.”
“And you think you’ll find it here?” the veteran asked. “Why?”
“Why? Call it a nonsensical notion. Call it a weakness. Call me a doddering fool. But the stories also say there’s a lot of love and commitment at this compound because of the Battle Lord and his Lady. That’s why the treaties between Normals and Mutah have been successful. That’s why this compound has the reputation it has for having the greatest regiment of archers this side of the Missip. It’s said this place can accomplish the impossible. It’s because of these stories that I had to see for myself if any of them were true. I have to find a reason to believe there really is a such a love. Besides,” Renken added with a tired smile, “if only half of all I’ve heard is based on fact, this Atty is a force to be reckoned with. I’d like to see for myself how skilled she is with a staff, which is my specialty.”
“So you think that most of what you’ve heard about her skills is an elaboration?” the veteran inquired. He had a smile on his face now, yet Renken knew that at any moment the man would make his decision about him, and the mercenary had no doubt his opinion would sway a lot of people. Maybe even the Battle Lord.
“All I’m saying is that I’ve heard so much of what she’s done, I decided not to trust hearsay any longer. That’s another reason why I’m here. I want to see the Battle Lord and Lady together. I want to see this great love between them, and see if it warrants the stories and accolades. I want to see the Battle Lady in action. If you were in my boots, soldier, wouldn’t you want the same?”
His question got a positive response from the group of men. The veteran raised his mug in the mercenary’s direction and grinned.
“Hear, hear, Renken. Well put. Only, don’t ever let Atty hear you say you think the stories about her are mostly fairy tales, or she may put an arrow so close to your manhood, you’ll walk bowlegged for a week!”
The comment drew laughter from the other men surrounding him as the veteran winked at the mercenary and finished off his cider. Renken managed a crooked smile in response.
“Well, until I see it with my own eyes, no one, neither man nor Mutah, will convince me otherwise,” he told them in what he hoped they’d read as a serious but light-hearted comment. He raised his mug to take another swallow when something zipped by his face. Before he was aware of it, his drink was snatched out of his hand. Liquid sprayed the air, and Renken stared in shock to see his mug bobbing up and down with an arrow piercing it through the center and pinning it to the wall behind his head. He looked down at his hand that had just been holding the mug, then back at where it hung. There couldn’t have been more than a couple of inches of clearance between the stein and his lips that the arrow had to pass between in order to snatch it from his hand. Yet his fingers, face, and hand were unscathed.
He lifted his head to see the figure at the opposite end of the room lower her bow and finish descending the staircase. Even in the light of the lanterns which filled the main hall with their yellowish glow, there was no mistaking the rich blue sheen of her hair, which she wore loose that evening.
Renken watched as the incredibly beautiful woman in hunting attire slowly approached his table, and at that moment he understood that whatever he may have heard had been nothing but the truth. No matter how outlandish or impossible the stories may have sounded, there was more than an ounce of reality to every tale. Or, in this case, it was more like a full ton weight.
The Battle Lady walked over to the knot of soldiers and leaned over to give the veteran with the scarred face a warm kiss. The other soldiers seemed to take her expression of affection in stride, as if they’d expected it. The veteran snaked an arm around her waist, drawing her almost into his lap, and it was then Renken noticed how the man laid a protective yet loving and possessive hand over her slightly swollen belly.
Getting quickly to his feet, the mercenary bowed to his guests. “My apologies, sir. Madam. I never meant to say anything to offend either of you, or your men.”
Yulen chuckled. “Apology accepted, Renken.” Turning to his wife, he teasingly admonished her, “My love, what have I told you about playing with your toys in the house? Is that any way to greet a guest?”
With a definite twinkle in her eyes, Atty gave her a husband an impish grin as she tried to hide the longbow behind her back. “Oops,” she said, by way of apology.
The simple word made Renken look back up at her, and he saw her wink at him.
Yes, coming to Alta Novis was the smartest decision he’d ever made in his life. Not only was it going to be a great adventure living here, but he knew there was much he was going to enjoy learning at the side of his new Battle Lord.
And the Battle Lord’s Lady.
About the author:
Linda loves to write romance with a fantasy or science fiction f
lair. Her technique is often described as being as visual as a motion picture or graphic novel. By day she is a Kindergarten teacher, wife, and mother of two who lives in a small south Texas town near the Gulf coast. But at night she delves into alternate worlds filled with daring exploits and sensuous, erotic romance.
Among her accomplishments are ten consecutive number one best sellers, one of which was the 2009 Title of the Year, and herself being named 2009 Author of the Year.
For more information about this title, and for other books by Linda Mooney, please visit her website at: www.LindaMooney.com
