One Battle Lord’s Fate

by Linda Mooney

  “Yes, that’s all.”

  “What about feeding him? I don’t see any milk packets.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ve sort of developed a routine. About the time he gets hungry, my breasts start crying.”

  Liam chuckled. “I’ve never heard it put that way before. By the way, you look very beautiful.” He took the bag and laid it on one of the chairs in the waiting room. Turning around, he saw the curious look she was giving him. “What’s the matter?”

  “Why are you all dressed up spiffy like? Is Yulen going to introduce you to the other Battle Lords, too?”

  She noticed he hesitated before answering. “Actually, yes, he is. If some of the Battle Lords brought their own physicians. I thought it would be beneficial if we all gathered and compared notes. I have quite a bit of information about Mutah physiology that I’d like to share with them.”

  Atty smiled again. “Sounds like you’re going to be a busy man. Look, I’m heading over to the central area now. Want to escort me?”

  Again, the man seemed to hesitate. “I’m not quite ready. Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll catch up with you shortly.”

  He was hiding something from her. By his actions and tone of voice, there was a hint of playful mischief behind it. She debated for a moment if it would be worth it to try and wrangle the secret out of him, but decided not to. She was curious to see how the game ended.

  “Okay.”

  She left the clinic, and immediately caught the familiar smells of breakfast cooking wafting through the air. Only this time the odors were intensified by the amount of food being prepared because of the vast number of people who needed feeding. Here and there she could see a servant rushing to and from the main lodge. Her stomach tightened with anticipation.

  It wasn’t until she came around the corner of her and Yulen’s lodge that she got the first glimpse of the multi-colored decorations lining the walkways. Banners and pennants hung from ropes strung between every building, and lighted lanterns swung from poles planted every few feet. Rolls of multi-colored cloth were stretched across the walkways like sun shields, and the fabrics bounced up and down in the morning breeze.

  Here, the air of expectation was thick. She could sense it racing over her skin. It was almost palpable, and rhythmic like an invisible heartbeat.

  And silent.

  Atty paused. Her joyful mood instinctively shifted into hunter mode. It shouldn’t be this silent. Not this morning. Not on a day that Yulen and she had been planning and anticipating for weeks.

  Fear rose in her chest. She pressed her back to the building next to her and strained her ears for the smallest sound. All of a sudden, the compound had become utterly silent and empty. Where had the servants gone? Where were the familiar noises of people preparing for the day?

  This isn’t what she expected after feeling Liam’s attitude. Maybe he wasn’t expecting it either. Life at the compound was a double-edged sword. Things could change from calm to calamity with a single arrow or well-placed knife.

  Why hadn’t I brought my bow? What if something’s happened? What if what Yulen and I had talked about actually happened, and one of the Battle Lords has issued a challenge?

  She brushed her hands over the lap of her skirt. The feel of the Ballock in its sheath securely lashed to her thigh gave her some courage. The weapon gave her a some modicum of security. But if the danger was too great, it would prove practically useless.

  The place was too quiet. With the increased number of people inside the compound, the place should be ringing with noise, as it had the past couple of days. The air of expectancy became denser, thicker, almost impossible to breathe. But at the same time, she felt no sense of danger. None. She wondered why. Her hunting instinct, so reliable and forth-coming, gave her no clue whatsoever that anything was amiss.

  What’s going on?

  She had to find Yulen. Together, they would take a stance against whatever was causing this increasing uneasiness.

  Slowly, she continued to move toward the main area, when overhead a voice rang out, startling her. “Battle Lady about!” The soldier in the turret smiled down at her, his weapon by his side instead of in his hands, ready for combat.

  With her hand on her thigh, Atty stepped around the corner to see a huge white tent erected in the middle of the compound. The sides had been rolled up, and strand after strand of morning glories, blooming fresh and blue in the first rays of dawn, were wrapped around the ropes.

  Underneath the awning, Yulen stood, waiting for her. He was dressed in his elaborately engraved armor, with his helmet tucked under one arm. His hair like burnished copper hung to his shoulders. Behind him stood Folchen, the man of religion. At Yulen’s side, Cole Mastin stood, also dressed in his armor. And beyond him…

  Her eyes widened in shock. Hundreds of men and women stood, silently watching, quietly waiting. Soldiers in their polished armor stepped forward to form a small corridor between herself and the courtyard. The sound of metal upon metal drew her attention upward, where more soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder and lifted their swords in salute. The morning sunlight turned their battle armor to gold.

  “My lady.”

  She hadn’t heard Paxton approach her. Her Second stood to the side, sunlight reflecting off of his breastplate and onto his face. He held out an arm. “May I escort my lady to her destination?”

  Atty smiled tearfully and placed a hand on his arm. Together, they walked beneath the canopy of swords until they reached the tent where Yulen was waiting for her. When she removed her hand, Paxton took his place by her side, taking the same stance as Mastin did beside the Battle Lord.

  “Atty. Atrilan.”

  She jerked around, tears already burning in her eyes as the tension drained away. Yulen held out a gloveless hand. She advanced toward him and placed hers in his, and he slowly drew her inside the tent. A small rug lay on the ground in front of where Folchen stood waiting. Yulen led her to the rug where they both stood.

  Atty glanced around at the people watching them. Everyone was festively dressed. This was a celebration, and she knew without a doubt that it had nothing to do with the Battle Lords descending upon Alta Novis.

  Standing a full head taller than the crowd was Zane Batuset, the Battle Lord of the neighboring compound of Foster City, and a stout ally. He wore a silly grin on his bearded face. In front of him was Cavender, the knifesmith, with his family in attendance. She caught sight of Tory and Fortune nearby, and a bubble of laughter rose in her throat. Everywhere she looked, she saw people whom she considered to be friends. Without question, she knew they were gathered here because of something Yulen had planned.

  Planned without her knowledge.

  “Atrilan.”

  She turned back around to face her husband. He lifted her hand to his lips to kiss her fingers, all the while keeping her gaze locked with his.

  “Atrilan Ferran, a year ago you lay dying of borash poisoning. But by some miracle, Liam was able to revive you long enough so that you could have what you said you dearly wanted. Do you recall what that was?”

  It was difficult to swallow around the lump in her throat. “To be married to you.”

  “Yes. And we were. But I also promised that one day we would renew those vows with you fully awake and aware of what was happening. Today is our one year anniversary. Will you do me the honor once again of becoming my wife?”

  Atty feel the hot tears rolling down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. This was something she’d never expected. And for everyone in the compound to be in attendance?

  From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of another pair of familiar figures. Liam and Madigan stood in witness to the ceremony. In her arms, Mattox lay awake but silent, watching with curiosity at the sights with his pink Mutah eyes.

  A little tug on her hand reminded her she hadn’t given Yulen an answer. She blushed, sniffed, and straightened up to face him. Staring him straight in the eye, she replied, “Yes, Yulen D’Jacques. I would be honor
ed to be your wife.”

  What followed was a whirlwind of emotions and words. Yulen repeated the vows given by Folchen. She followed suit. The small ring which had been placed on her finger a year ago, but she had been forced to remove when her pregnancy made her hands swell, was returned to its rightful place.

  Folchen pronounced them husband and wife, and amid the ear-shattering shouts and cheers, Yulen kissed her in that way that made her head swim¯long, deep, and mind-numbing. And overflowing with the promise of a lifetime of love. The hand on her buttocks pressed her firmly against him, as close as the armor would allow, yet still letting her know how much he wanted to whisk her away to further confirm his need for her.

  She was oblivious to the noise around them until it suddenly crescendoed. Confused, she reared back slightly and realized they had pulled each other into a tight embrace, fitting perfectly together. This public display of affection, this spontaneous affirmation of their deep love, was rare, and as such, one that very few had been privileged to witness. In the back of her mind, Atty wondered how the historians would write this moment.

  Someone began to ring the compound’s bell. The tower was less than fifty yards away, and someone was ringing the bell to announce the nuptials, as was custom to do.

  Yulen lifted his face to look into hers, and she saw similar tears on his cheeks.

  “Surprised?” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

  “Utterly. How in the world did you manage to pull this off?”

  “I had lots of helpers.” He glanced over his shoulder where Mastin stood, grinning ear to ear. The Second took it as his cue to approach.

  “Ready, Sir?”

  At Yulen’s nod, the soldier helped him to unbuckle the bulky armor, while around them the tent was quickly lowered, and the area cleared to make way for regular foot traffic.

  “What’s next?” she asked her husband.

  “Next, we head for the outer courtyard. The Battle Lords are gathering there for our first meeting, and I bet they’re wondering what in the world has been going on over here.”

  “I’m still in the dark, Yulen. Once we have that meeting, what did you have planned?”

  “Ohhh…” He rolled his eyes as if he was thinking. “Maybe a bit of music. A dance or two. A keg or three of lemon verbossa.” His gaze almost caressed her as his voice dropped. “Today, we celebrate our love. We will celebrate our wedding day the way it should have been the first time. Tomorrow, we can get back to business. I’m sorry the party will be short, but I promise to make it up to you.”

  Freed from the last of the armor, he reached for her, pulling her back into his embrace. Her arms circled his neck, and they pressed their bodies tightly against each other once more as they kissed. At this moment, they didn’t care who watched. They didn’t care what others thought. Neither were they aware of what was going on in the world around them.

  For a brief span of time, the love of a lifetime was cemented, refreshed, renewed, and reconfirmed. To most, the couple tightly holding each other was visible affirmation of the strength and power that made Alta Novis such a strong compound.

  But to others, it was proof that the alliance between Mutah and Normals had reached a critical point in history. And if it wasn’t stopped now, there may never be another moment in the future when the opportunity would present itself again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Warning

  Yulen watched as Atty and Tory walked arm-in-arm down what the people referred to as The Boulevard. During regular days, the unpaved trail led from the main house where the troops were fed, to the back area where the housing began for the compound’s inhabitants. On Market Days, the trail was lined on both sides with carts and booths and kiosks. Today, musicians strolled, singing songs of love. Every few feet Berta had set up tables to offer the guests drink or food, served by the staff manning each booth. Eggs were plentiful, as were sweet rolls and biscuits with gravy. The smell of cooking meat caught his attention. Somewhere out there were sausages and lean breakfast strips. Served on toast or small loaves of bread, and smeared with her delicious blackberry jam. Slowly, his initial sexual need for Atty was being replaced with another kind of hunger. To be honest, he had been so busy getting everything in place, he couldn’t remember the last time he sat down to eat a meal.

  He shook his head and grinned. The two women were giggling like young girls and apparently heading off to get their own breakfast. Later tonight, small bands of musicians would converge into the open areas, allowing room for people to dance if they were in the mood. The breakfast booths would be converted to serve Mutah-based meals, animals caught in the wild and seasoned with plants harvested from the forests. It had been Berta’s suggestion that the Battle Lords and their men get a taste of cuisine that they otherwise would have considered unappetizing. Until Atty showed them differently, meals at Alta Novis were filling, but bland and repetitious.

  The memory of the badger that had been cooking at the Wallis compound when he and his men had first attacked remained fresh in his mind. Until then, all mutated animals had been considered inedible. Definitely contaminated. Perhaps poisonous. Since then, Atty had taught them how to spot those creatures which were too dangerous to consume. She had also shown them how to cook the creatures. Taking Berta and her kitchen staff out into the woods, she’d pointed out which plants to use to flavor and enhance the meat, and which vegetation worked best with certain animals. As well as pointed out which flowers and shrubs were also edible, and how to prepare them.

  “Sir?”

  Mastin sought his attention. It also meant that Yulen would not be able to join his wife for breakfast, if the expression on the man’s face meant what he thought it meant.

  “Batuset needs to speak with you.”

  Or, maybe he could.

  “Have him meet me at the main lodge.”

  Mastin nodded and trotted off. Yulen hurried to catch up with his wife.

  The main lodge was crowded with soldiers and guests. Many people stood in line, waiting at the main double doors at the front of the building for a seat to open up. Yulen entered through the side door, directly into the kitchen.

  “Smells good, Berta,” he greeted the woman giving orders to a group of woman cutting up vegetables. “Did you happen to save a spot for me?”

  “By the fireplace, as always.”

  Over by the back wall and out of the way of traffic, Mattox was happily munching on a link of sausage as he sat inside a makeshift playpen. Seeing his father, the child’s face lit up, and he waved the sausage in the air with a chubby fist. Yulen went over and picked up his son, giving the baby a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Mattox cooed as he whacked the meat against the long scar on his father’s face. Yulen laughed.

  “Ack! I can tell he’s going to develop a strong sword arm. How’s my boy doing?”

  “Behaving nicely as long as we give him something to nosh on,” the cook laughed. “The battle lady said she’d be back to get him as soon as she was finished eating.”

  The comment reminded Yulen that the child was making good use of his four baby teeth. Atty recently swore she would have to stop breastfeeding their son soon, as she was tired of being chewed on.

  Yulen gave Mattox another quick peck on the cheek before setting the child back into the playpen. Heading out of the kitchen, he also grabbed a small sausage on the way, popping it unobtrusively in his mouth. He should have known the act wouldn’t go unnoticed.

  “Sir!”

  He grinned at Berta’s reprimand and exited into the main dining hall. Hurrying past packed tables, he quickly spotted Atty and Tory, as well as Fortune, Liam, and Madigan already seated. Fortune saw him first and waved him over.

  For early April, the weather was still cool in the mornings. A small fire crackled in the large fireplace a few feet away. Atty scooted over to make room, and Yulen slid onto the bench beside her. The next table over, Warren Paxton sat eating, but ever-ready in case the Battle Lord needed him, althou
gh he was officially Atty’s Second. Across from the Second sat Garet Renken. Yulen paused. The ex-mercenary had proven himself invaluable to the family. Seeing the man seated nearby, along with Paxton, gave Yulen a sense of security.

  Several platters of food were already present on the table for them to serve themselves. An empty plate suddenly appeared in front of him as the conversation resumed. Yulen listened as he served himself and ate while waiting for Batuset to join them.

  It wasn’t long before he felt a nudge in his ribs. “You’re awfully quiet.”

  He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Zane’s coming over. Cole said he wanted to talk to me.”

  Atty’s brows rose. “Trouble?”

  “Or something he’s concerned about.”

  “Could it be about those disturbances between Mutah and humans?”

  Yulen gave a slight shrug. “I honestly don’t think those would be enough to warrant him wanting to speak with me. Knowing Zane, it’s probably a lot more urgent.”

  “Hey, hey, hey. Keep the lovey dovey small talk for the bedroom. You two have guests to entertain.” Fortune playfully admonished the couple. The others grinned. Yulen smiled.

  “I want to personally thank you for attending today. Fortune, Tory, you being here means a lot to us. I wish I could say this celebration will proceed without any hiccups, but you all know I have over a hundred guests gathering in the secondary area of the compound. What happens within the next few days won’t be without its trials.”

  Zane Batuset approached their table, unheard over the din in the hall in spite of his heavy footfall. His Second, Dardin Tabb, accompanied him, along with Mastin. Yulen got to his feet, and the two men embraced arms.

  Zane glanced at the people present at the table while they moved around to make room for three more people. “What I have to say must stay among us for the present,” the Battle Lord said, looking around the crowded hall. Fortunately, the appearance of the Battle Lord in the main hall was not considered out of the ordinary. The noise in the dining hall remained constant, and the group at the head table were able to talk without fear of being overheard.