by Linda Mooney
Atty took a deep, shaky breath. She refused to think what these men would do to her if they managed to capture her. She couldn’t think about it. She had seen what horrors Normals could inflict on Mutah. She had been the victim of such terrors in the past. But those times would not compare to the blackness she watched filling the room.
At that moment, she knew with sick certainty they would get her.
A heartbeat later, the hammering at the doors resumed, louder than the strongest thunder booming directly overhead. She started to put her hands over her ears when there was an explosive sound above her. Bits of glass flew around the living area, sparkling like raindrops in the pale moonlight. A hard crunch came from the bedroom, and she realized the window had been shattered. Her sanctuary had been breached, and they were coming in after her.
The first man to appear at the railing went down silently. The second man toppled over as Atty’s arrow went up into his throat, and exited out of the top of his head. When the third man appeared and tried to come down the stairwell, she pinned him to the wall behind it. She had twelve arrows, and each one found an enemy. When the last arrow flew, she quickly dropped her quiver and bow, and pulled the Ballock into her hands, half-crouching in preparation for hand-to-hand combat.
They advanced upon her like an angry tide. She fought them, stabbing as they attacked all at once. She fought partly out of fear, but mostly out of desperation. Eventually, if not tonight, then soon, she would be killed. More than likely tortured prior to that for their enjoyment, as well.
But not before she gave everything she had.
She had no idea how many she killed or wounded. She concentrated on the eyes and noses and ears. To any opening leading directly into the brain. Blood ran warm down her arms as she fought to keep a grip on the dagger’s slippery handle, but there were too many of them. She was weakening, and the wall of men continued to surge toward her.
Arms grabbed her around the waist and tackled her onto the floor. A boot met the side of her head, stunning her momentarily. It was enough for several hands to hold down the arm brandishing the Ballock, and another boot crashed down heavily over her wrist. She screamed as the bones snapped, but by then she knew she was completely overwhelmed. Heavy weight held down her legs and other arm, yet she continued to struggle.
A shadowy form detached itself from the mob. A small lantern was brought forth, and Rafe D’Jacques peered down at her in triumph. “Yep. It’s the Mutah whore.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Any sign of the whelp?”
“No, Sir!” a voice answered from overhead.
Rafe looked back down at her. “Where’s the pup?”
“Go to hell,” she answered with clenched teeth.
Rafe sighed loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know whether to be happy that you’re going to be difficult about this, or irritated. Oh, well.” He smiled at her. “For now, let’s go with the former, shall we?”
She saw his huge fist swing around, aiming for the side of her face, but she couldn’t move to avoid it. Pain erupted in a fiery blast inside her head, and then there was blessed blackness.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bound
Someone tore her clothing from her. The violent act roused her from unconsciousness. A minute passed, then another as she tried to come to grips with this new reality.
It was cold. The early morning fog clung to her bare skin like ice water, leaving a wet sheen. Atty tried to move, to cover herself with her hands, but her body wouldn’t obey.
She managed to open her eyes. One eye was clear, but the other was hazy, with flecks of red floating before her face. But she was able to see she had been stripped naked and was bound by heavy ropes to a pole.
No. Not a pole. To one of the bell’s posts.
She was in the middle of the inner compound, not far from her home and the main lodge. The bell tower rose above her. She was tied to the right front stanchion, with her arms bound behind her back. The sun was above the trees in the distance in front of her. East. It was morning.
A guard must have seen her come to. She continued to blink, trying to clear her vision. She was shaking from the cold, and her breasts were filling, readying themselves for Mattox’s breakfast. But her son wasn’t here. She vaguely remembered being asked where he was. That meant they didn’t have him. Madigan and Liam had managed to get the baby to safety. Atty said a silent prayer of thanks.
She could hear movement in the distance. The sound of many people breathing. A covered cough. Soft murmuring. The townspeople were gathering. Watching.
There was the sound of heavy boots crunching along the path. They stopped a few feet away, and a deep voice heavy with self-importance broke the silence.
“Well, well. It looks like our battle bitch has awakened. You know I have a personal vendetta against you after what happened last night, don’t you?”
Her throat was tight, but she managed to answer him. “You broke into my home. You beat me unconscious.”
“That’s because you killed sixteen of my men!” Rafe yelled. “Sixteen good men, now buzzard meat because of you.”
Sixteen men. She almost smiled at the irony. She’d killed sixteen of Yulen’s men the first time they had encountered each other. A year ago, when the Battle Lord had attacked her compound.
More people surrounded them. Guards moved forward to hold back the gathering crowd. Atty glanced back down at herself. She was fully nude and exposed. Her breasts were full, hard and aching, and her nipples erect. She shivered.
“What do you want? Why are you here?”
“I came for what is rightfully mine.”
Before she could reply, D’Jacques stepped closer to her. With his gloved hand, he grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed it. Atty gasped from the pain as Rafe watched the thin, white milk dribble to the ground. His breathing grew raspier in that way Yulen’s did when he desired her. She chanced a glance down at his crotch. Although his jerkin covered his genitals, she would swear he sported an erection. His next words were also telling as he bent forward so only she could hear.
“If you were not Mutah, I would tie you to the bed and have you countless ways before I gave you over to my men to enjoy.”
Suddenly, he stepped back and wrung his hand, then turned his back to her to face his audience.
“Good people of Alta Novis! My name is Rafe D’Jacques. That’s right. I am a D’Jacques, but born of a different mother. And as is my right, I am claiming this compound for my own. I also claim it as the firstborn son of Rory D’Jacques. I am now in command, and this is my first decree. All Mutah are to leave immediately. You are not allowed to pack anything. You are not allowed to carry anything. Go out the front gate now. You have fifteen minutes to vacate these grounds. After which, my men have my permission to kill or torture any of you they find within the walls.”
He paused as people began to head for the gates, many of whom cast last looks at Atty. As the exodus continued, Rafe drew the rest of the crowd’s attention back to himself.
“Next, I am searching for the Mutah son of Yulen D’Jacques. I will richly reward the person who gives me the name of the person harboring this child, or the location. But it is imperative that the abominable offspring be wiped from the face of this earth as soon as possible.
“To those of you who have been blessed to be Normal, you are warmly invited to stay here in Alta Novis under my protection. Those articles and domiciles which were once owned and inhabited by Mutah, you are welcome to take possession of them on a first come, first served basis.
“Finally, this so-called Battle Lady whom you revered is now my prisoner. No one is allowed to talk to her, and anyone trying to provide her with food, drink, clothing, or weapons will be harshly dealt with.”
“How long is she going to stay there?” a male voice yelled from the crowd.
“It depends on how long she can brave the weather.” Rafe smiled. “Are there any further questions?”
“What happens w
hen your brother returns?”
“Won’t he challenge you?”
Rafe laughed. “Let him! I have his army. I have his Mutah wife. And I have his compound. If this place can hold off a horde of Bloods, it can certainly hold off a Battle Lord with a few paltry soldiers.”
Someone muttered something inaudible. Rafe caught it on the wind, and brought attention to it. “Please. Feel free to say whatever you want without fear of reprisal.”
A different male voice spoke out. “You are underestimating Yulen D’Jacques.”
“I hope so!” Rafe smiled broadly. “So far I’ve seen nothing that has impressed me. In fact, I’m rather disappointed by the lack of support for your great ex-Battle Lord.” He dismissed them with a wave of his hands. “This celebration is at an end. This ridiculous summit is dissolved. If any Battle Lord wishes to challenge me for this compound, do so now. Otherwise, you will be allowed one hour to pack your tents and be gone without prejudice.”
“What if another Battle Lord decides to take you up on your claim?”
Chuckling, Rafe motioned to someone off to the side. Five more Battle Lords walked sedately over to stand with him. Behind the crowd, the combined forces from those compounds moved forward.
“All right. Is there a Battle Lord who wishes to challenge me?”
The crowd was curiously quiet. People look around, waiting, but no one stepped up to accept the dare. Atty wondered where the other Battle Lords were.
Rafe held out his hands. “No one? Very well. You’ve had your chance.” He turned to address the men standing beside him. “Gentlemen, let’s retire to the main hall to enjoy some of the fruits of the spoils.” He motioned to one soldier who had remained inconspicuously out of sight until now. “Sees, have the crowd disburse before you join us.”
“What about her?” The little man pointed at Atty.
“Put a guard on her. Otherwise, it’s only a matter of time before the elements finish her off. I’m taking bets on how long she can hold out.” He motioned again for the other Battle Lords to follow him, and headed for the main lodge.
The soldiers quickly cleared the courtyard. One man, whom she recognized, spat in her direction. Otherwise, everyone turned their backs and slowly went back to their lives.
Atty knew that many people who lived in the compound didn’t care who was in charge, as long as things were run pretty fairly, and they were protected from marauders. As long as their daily lives weren’t too severely disrupted, their allegiance could easily be bought.
She also knew Yulen had his detractors. Most of the people who continued to hate Mutah had left Alta Novis long ago, settling in Foster City or beyond. But there were a few who remained, and who remained vocal.
What she couldn’t understand was, where were their supporters? The choice the other Battle Lords made not to challenge Rafe was understandable. Although, if they had combined their forces, they could take down D’Jacques and his minions with little trouble. But, to do so would shatter the delicate balance of power between the Battle Lords.
With hardly an exception, every Battle Lord was equal in status and power. Every ruler was content to have his own compound to command. To challenge another would waste lives, resources, and supplies. Then, the Battle Lord would have to worry about running two compounds, when one was already more than enough to handle. And that wasn’t mentioning possibly facing other Battle Lords, who might ascend on him to reclaim the compound for their ally.
Rafe D’Jacques had used his invitation as a way to get past Yulen’s defenses. Once inside the compound, he had gathered those of like minds, then attacked from within. Once Rafe declared himself leader, Yulen’s soldiers had no choice but to obey their new Battle Lord’s commands.
She briefly wondered why she hadn’t seen Mastin. They’re probably prisoners. Locked away so they can’t incite Yulen’s soldiers to counter-attack. She prayed that was where Yulen’s most trusted soldiers were located, and not killed.
A north wind blew through the trees. A bank of dark gray clouds were gathering in the distance. She could smell snow in the air. The pain in her shoulders had gone from piercing to a dull throb. The cold penetrated all the way to her core.
Yulen was fighting an unknown enemy to the south. Zane, and the small squad of Yulen’s men, including her own Second, were to the north. Her son, as well as Liam and Madigan, had disappeared. She was tied to a post, and already she could tell the cold was affecting her arms and legs. She tried to flex her toes and fingers, with little luck.
Feast or famine. Feast or famine. When would circumstances shift, and things would start looking brighter? Or was there more bad to come?
“Yulen.” She barely mouthed the words. Her throat was constricted. Her head thundered in pain. Rafe wondered how long she could last against the elements. He had completely forgotten about dehydration.
“Yulen. My love.” Her words were barely audible. She had never seen a Mutah, or anyone, tortured in this manner. It reminded her of how the Bloods had tortured Yulen, before she managed to save her husband. Similar, but different.
I will always love you.
The courtyard was unusually quiet for early morning. Shopkeepers should be bustling about, selling their wares or swapping gossip among the community.
As the cold wind grew more forceful, Atty slowly slipped into unconsciousness, completely unaware of the number of eyes watching her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Allies
Fortune remained by the window, staring out from behind the curtain at the new guards trading watches on the parapet above the compound’s walls. It was dark, and all the residents had been ordered indoors or else face permanent expulsion.
“Fortune, get away from there before someone spots you!” Tory hissed from the kitchen.
“What are they going to do? Arrest me for spying?” he retorted, but dropped the curtain back in place anyway and took a seat next to the fire. He tried to get comfortable, but failed. Giving a little growl, he reached down inside his pants and untied the short length of rope keeping his tail wrapped around his waist. With the appendage freed, he gave a sigh of relief.
“How much longer do you think we can stay here?” Tory walked over to check their meager stew cooking on the hearth. “Sooner or later, someone’s bound to turn us over to that maniac. Why are we even taking the risk? We should have left when D’Jacques first ordered all Mutah to leave.”
He looked up at her with mournful eyes. “You know the answer to that as much as I do. Atty and Yulen need us. They need allies. And right now, Atty needs to know there are people willing to risk their own lives to help.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. Tory saw the action, but declined for once to scold him for it.
“We have to save her, Fortune. Have you thought of something yet? Dearest heavens, she’s dying out there! She’s already been out there all day. How much more can she take? She can’t survive the night, can she?”
“I don’t know, Tory. I’m working on a plan, but you know as well as I do that D’Jacques won’t let anyone within ten feet of her.” He threw another piece of wood from the bucket next to him into the fire.
“I can’t believe that man just waltz in, waited for Yulen to leave, then took over. I can’t believe Atty is tied up over in the courtyard, stark naked, freezing to death.” She stirred the stew to give herself something to do. “How long do you think it’ll take Yulen to return?”
“Mastin told me New Bearinger was under attack by Normals. That’s the only reason why Yulen felt he had to go.” Fortune pulled his knife from its sheath and started to clean it, although the weapon already gleamed. “A Battle Lord’s army attacking another Battle Lord’s compound. It just doesn’t happen anymore. At least, not since Yulen brought down that Battle Lord who’d kidnapped Atty a year ago.”
“I’d be willing to bet Rafe D’Jacques is behind the attack on the compound.”
“You and me both.” He sighed and slipped the knife back into its home. “Bu
t you agree with me, don’t you, Tory? You know why we have to stay. At least, I do. You can leave.”
She gave him a stern look. “Leave? Without you? Bite your tongue, Fortune Kalich.” She started to say more when a timid knock came at the door. Fortune held a finger to his lips for silence, then went over to peer through the window to see who had braved coming to their home after dark, and in spite of the new Battle Lord’s decree. Hastily, he opened the door, and a woman with a basket slipped inside. He quickly closed the door behind her.
For a moment, the woman remained standing there. She was breathing heavily. A light dusting of snowflakes on the shawl wrapped around her head revealed it was starting to snow outside. Setting down the basket, the woman pulled the covering away from her face.
Tory gasped. “Madigan!”
“May I sit down?”
“Yes! Yes! Here.” Tory helped her over to the short stool by the fire. The older woman nearly collapsed.
Fortune came over and sat back down on the other side of the fire. “Dr. MaGrath, is he…”
Madigan nodded. “He’s well. We’ve taken refuge with some others who have generously offered to help. But I need your help.”
“Anything. Just name it,” Tory said, sitting on the floor at her feet.
Madigan looked at the couple. “I know you look upon Atty as your own daughter. I know my son thinks of you as family. That’s why I need to ask this of you. When I saw you in the crowd, I watched you come back here instead of leave, and that’s when I knew I had to come. But if you decline, I’ll understand. After all, just remaining here is putting your lives in danger.”
Tory patted her arm. “We couldn’t leave. Especially not after the way D’Jacques has Atty tied up in the courtyard, on display for all to see.”
“The man is taking bets on how long she’ll be able to remain alive out there in the elements, without food or water. We’re trying to think of a way to get her freed, but so far we’ve come up blank,” Fortune said bitterly. “Yulen needs allies on the inside, here in the compound, to keep an eye on what’s happening. So in case he returns¯”
