One Battle Lord’s Fate

by Linda Mooney

  “When he returns,” Tory hastily amended.

  Fortune nodded. “When he returns, he’ll need to know what he’s facing. He’ll need to know how many men are involved. What their routines are. Where his own men are being held.”

  Madigan’s eyes widened. “D’Jacques has some of Yulen’s men in prison?”

  “Mostly his officers. The others are under strict orders to follow all of D’Jacques’ commands. To hesitate or refuse means instant death.”

  The Mutah hunter was interrupted when a movement came from the basket Madigan had left on the floor by the door. Curious, Tory got up and went over to lift the lid. She cried out softly in surprise to see the contents. Reaching inside, she picked up the sleeping baby boy and snuggled him under her chin.

  “You brought Mattox?” Fortune asked, shocked.

  “I had to. Liam and I are unable to care for him. The people who are housing us know D’Jacques has a bounty on our heads, but he plans to kill Mattox the second he discovers the baby’s whereabouts. Having him with us, with his eyes…” Madigan’s voice trailed off as she tried to find the words to explain.

  Tory hushed her. “We understand. And, yes, we’ll take him. If a guard happened upon you, all it would take is one look, and they would know immediately who Mattox was.”

  “I know you’re risking your own lives to remain here. But if you should decide to leave Alta Novis, you could take him with you. No one would be the wiser.”

  “There are people here who would turn us in for being Mutah,” Fortune reminded the woman. “We run a huge risk just by staying here.”

  “But having a baby wouldn’t put us at a greater risk,” Tory argued. “D’Jacques’ men don’t know the baby isn’t ours. As long as we keep Mattox’s eyes shielded, he’ll be safe.”

  Madigan grasped Tory’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Thank you. Thank you for doing this for us. There’s some milk packets and a few diapers in the basket. It was all I had left at the clinic that I could pack before Liam and I fled.”

  “Are you all right? I mean, are you staying some place that’s safe?” Fortune asked.

  Madigan gave a quick nod. “Relatively safe, until D’Jacques decides to do a door-to-door search.”

  Tory looked to her husband. “Would he do that?”

  “He might,” Fortune admitted. “If he’s smart, he will. If…when Yulen returns, he’ll need ammunition to flaunt in Yulen’s face. Proof positive that he has control over something Yulen will want back.” The hunter tapped Madigan on the knee. “D’Jacques will use you and Liam as bait.”

  “What about Atty and the baby?” Madigan asked in a terrified whisper.

  A dark sadness came over Fortune’s face. “Rafe D’Jacques cares nothing for Mutah. He will kill Atty and Mattox without blinking an eye. He already has Atty. He believes it’s just a matter of time before he uncovers the babe. No, because you and Liam are Normal, he’ll spare you just so he can keep Yulen on a leash. You’ll be his insurance.”

  Madigan sniffed and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I saw Atty on the way over here. Oh, sweetest heavens. She was shaking so hard from the cold. She was unconscious, but I could see her skin was already starting to turn blue. It has to be below freezing right now.”

  “Is there a guard on her?” Fortune asked.

  “Yes. I don’t know how often they change, but I’m assuming there’s a man assigned to her around the clock. Speaking of, I need to go. The longer I stay here, the greater I run the risk of us all being discovered.” She got to her feet. Tory rose, and the two women hugged. Madigan tenderly kissed her grandson on the crown. “Please take care of him.”

  “We’ll treat him as if he was our own,” Tory promised.

  “Will you need help getting back?” Fortune inquired.

  “No, no. I’ll be fine. I may be up in years, but I still know every nook and cranny of this compound. At least, this courtyard area.” Madigan gave the couple a warm smile. “Thank you again. I pray Yulen will return soon, and this whole horrible incident can be put behind us.”

  “So do we,” Tory replied.

  Drawing the shawl back over her head, Madigan waited by the door as Fortune blocked the light from the fireplace long enough for her to slip outside. Tory remained by the fire, the baby cradled against her shoulder.

  Fortune brought the basket closer and peered inside. “Three nappies. Those won’t last long.”

  “I’ll just tear up one of your old hunting shirts. They’re soft enough not to chafe.”

  “What about milk?” He held up three packets. “How long will these tide him over?”

  “Hopefully, he’ll remain asleep through the night. We can get more milk in the morning.” She remained standing and rocked from side to side, the baby tucked under her chin, his little tummy to her chest so Mattox could feel her heartbeat. It was a scene Fortune had seen her perform countless times when their own son had been an infant.

  “We need another ally,” Tory commented, breaking into his thoughts. “We need someone who won’t arouse suspicion. Someone who is willing to help us get Atty away from D’Jacques.”

  “I’m open to any and all suggestions, but at this moment, I have no idea who we can and cannot trust.” He stared at the infant sleeping in his wife’s arms. “Tory, do you really believe we’ll get out of this mess? That Yulen will return, and that half-brother of his will be punished?”

  “We have no choice but to believe it. Otherwise, the alternative is too horrible to think about.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Return

  “It looks like the weather might turn uglier,” Roth Gaines muttered. He was acting Second during their flight to New Bearinger. Yulen watched as the man lifted the corner of the blanket he’d wrapped around himself and drew it over the top of his head as the snow began to fall with more intensity. It would be another three days before they reached the compound. Actually, Yulen suspected they could make in two and a half, if they kept up the pace they’d been taking since leaving Alta Novis.

  He glanced up at the velvety black sky. The clouds hid the stars and moon to where navigation was impossible. If it weren’t for the road, they could easily lose all sense of direction.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t,” he replied, drawing his own blanket tighter around himself.

  “How soon before we stop for the night?”

  “I’d like to get another couple of miles under our belts.”

  Gaines coughed into his fist, then moved closer to the small fire. Behind him, Yulen could hear the rest of his men talking low among themselves as they huddled around similar fires. A brisk wind pushed at their backs. Yulen reached behind his head and pulled out the leather fringe tying his hair. The thick locks swung forward, covering the sides of his face and giving his ears some protection against the cold.

  “Sir.” With one word, Gaines got his whole attention. The Second was on his feet and staring back in the direction of Alta Novis. Yulen went to stand next to him. The Second gestured to his ear. “What is that?” the man whispered.

  His movements had been noticed by the rest of the company. They were already on their feet, swords quietly pulled from their scabbards and now concealed underneath their blankets.

  Yulen strained to hear what had alerted the young man. Another handful of seconds passed, and then he could barely make it out. Clop-clop. Clop-clop. It was rhythmic and fast, resembling the sound of a galloping horse.

  Only different.

  The Battle Lord lifted a fist, the silent command for everyone to be prepared. “Douse the fires,” he added.

  “Douse the fires,” Gaines passed along. Instantly all lights were extinguished as the galloping noise drew closer.

  “Horses, Sir?”

  “Sounds like just one.”

  “One? One rider, alone on the road, on a night like this?” Gaines sounded doubtful. Yulen concurred.

  The sound came nearer. In the intense blackness surrou
nding them, there was no way Yulen and his men could see who or what was approaching. The noise began to lessen as it approached. He estimated who or what making the sound couldn’t be more than twenty yards away. Thank goodness he had ordered his men off the road and far enough into the woods to shelter them from the wind and snow when they’d needed a rest stop.

  The sound ceased, all except for someone huffing and puffing. Yulen lifted his sword from beneath his blanket.

  “Please, Sir. No need for those. It’s me. Singling.”

  Yulen stepped forward. “Singling? Why in the world were you following us?” He remembered that many Mutah were able to see in almost perfect darkness, Atty included.

  The Mutah teenager came closer. The sound of the boy’s hoof-like feet on the packed roadway was hollow.

  At his command, a small torch was handed to him. Yulen held it up to where they could watch the young man approach. The boy was almost wheezing from the trek. He was exhausted and nearly spent as he crouched down to catch his breath. Because he had to find us. He’s been running to find us.

  Singling tried to swallow, but failed. Gaines handed him a water skin, and the teenager took several sips. “Alta Novis has been captured,” he finally managed to get out.

  “What!” The word escaped him before he was aware of speaking. Kneeling before the boy, Yulen thrust his face closer to the Mutah struggling to catch his breath. “Tell me everything,” he tersely ordered.

  “Rafe D’Jacques and some other Battle Lords have taken over the compound. D’Jacques claimed it by rightful inheritance. Said he was first born, not you. Sir, is it true?”

  “Sadly, yes. Continue.”

  “Many of your men were put in the dungeons. All Mutah were ordered to evacuate the compound immediately, or else they would be put to death. The other Battle Lords, the ones not following D’Jacques, were ordered to leave, too. They had an hour to pack and go.”

  Stunned, Yulen dropped to the ground. His mind whirled at the news. So Rafe had taken the opportunity to seize control? To declare the compound his, all because of his birth order?

  “What about Atty? What of my son?”

  Singling shook his head. “They took her from the lodge. They stripped her naked and tied her to the bell. I heard D’Jacques demanding to know where the battle prince was, but she wouldn’t tell him. Sir, you have to come back! You have to come back now!”

  Yulen didn’t have to think twice about his answer. “Mount up!” he yelled at his men. “We’re returning to Alta Novis. Be combat ready!” Holding out a hand, Yulen helped the boy to his feet. “Ride with me, son. Tell me all you know about how this went down.”

  They were on their way back within seconds of the order. Yulen pushed his big stallion to a lope, as did the others. No one had to be told about the new development. Already he could hear the men passing the word among themselves.

  “Alta Novis has been captured!”

  “The Battle Lady has been taken hostage. They’ve tortured her!”

  “The Battle Prince is missing!”

  Yulen drew the Mutah’s hooved hands around his waist. The action forced the boy to rest his cheek on the Battle Lord’s shoulder. The warmth at his back reminded Yulen of the countless times he and Atty had ridden this same way through the forest, in search of nice quiet spot to rest and talk. And perhaps make love.

  Gaines pulled up beside Yulen. “Sir, those Normals attacking New Bearinger? What if they are from D’Jacques’ compound?”

  Of course. It made perfect sense. Create a diversionary tactic to lure me away from Alta Novis so he couldn’t be challenged. For a moment, Yulen wondered if the rumor of Bloods amassing to attack Foster City was also part of Rafe’s plan before dismissing the idea. The Bloods were rumored to be approaching from a different direction. The troops that descended upon New Bearinger came from the south, from the direction of Alta Seran.

  Rafe probably had his men follow a few days behind him. That way he would already be at Alta Novis when they arrived to attack New Bearinger.

  The plan was flawless…or would have been except for two major gaffs. Because of his hatred for all things Mutah, D’Jacques had ordered an immediate evacuation of every Mutah from the compound soon after declaring himself the new Battle Lord. He never took in consideration how loyal the Mutah were to Yulen.

  In addition, the man had wasted very little time in declaring himself the new Battle Lord, and those two decisions had placed the odds in Yulen’s favor. It meant that Yulen wouldn’t be that far down the road, enabling some of the Mutah to catch up with him.

  “Singling, are there any other Mutah coming to meet us?”

  “About a dozen, but I was the fastest, and they told me to go ahead of them.”

  “Then the rest of the Mutah are on their way to other compounds?”

  “No, Sir. They’re all hiding in the woods, waiting for you to return.”

  Stunned, Yulen gave the boy a look of disbelief. The banished Mutah were waiting for him to return to Alta Novis? He did a quick mental calculation. There had to be at least two hundred Mutah who’d taken up permanent residence at the compound. Of those, a good half-dozen were of the hunters caste, not counting Atty.

  Atty.

  “They took her from the lodge. They stripped her naked and tied her to the bell. I heard D’Jacques demanding to know where the battle prince was, but she wouldn’t tell him.”

  Tied to the bell, without anything to protect her from cold, wind, and snow? Yulen gritted his teeth as his anger grew. He knew it was a favorite form of entertainment among Battle Lords, torturing Mutah while taking bets as to how long the man or woman could remain alive. Hell, even his own men, back in the days before Atty, had played that sick and twisted game whenever they went on their yearly cleaning sprees.

  Hold on, my love! Hold on! When I get there, I’m going to make my half-brother pay dearly. And then we’re going to take bets on how long he will survive!

  Chapter Thirty

  Even

  The sound of chopping roused her from her stupor. Atty managed to open her eyes, but focusing was difficult. She no longer felt the cold. In truth, she felt…nothing. Her skin was ice. Her hands and feet refused to obey. The ropes alone kept her upright.

  There was the shattering of glass. The smell of smoke drifted toward her. It was barely dawn, but the rising sun would soon warm things up.

  She had no memory of the night before. She looked down at her body, surprised by her lack of feeling. Her overly-full breasts had compensated as only nature could, and leaked milk until it ran like twin streams down her body, puddling at her feet until the pressure was eased. It was the only warmth she’d felt since being taken hostage.

  The smoke grew thicker. She could hear the sound of flames, and she wondered what was burning. Lifting her head was painful and nearly impossible. A bonfire had been set not far from the lodge. As she watched, a couple of soldiers came around the corner. They were carrying a large slab of wood.

  No. Not a slab. In the dim morning light she recognized the carving of the longbow and arrow. It was part of the headboard from her and Yulen’s bed. The elaborately carved headboard Yulen had ordered made to give as a gift to Atty. D’Jacques was burning the contents of her home one piece at a time.

  The men threw the section of detailed wood onto the bonfire, then walked back to the lodge. Atty watched as the oak smoldered while little flames licked the sides of the board. When Rafe’s men re-emerged carrying Mattox’s baby bed, she had to close her eyes and bite her tongue to keep from crying out. She heard the sound of the bed falling into the bonfire, and the subsequent whoosh as the blaze sent sparks spiraling into the sky.

  “Halt.” The guard called out to someone nearby. “Come no further. Go back to your home, woman.”

  “I had to see her.” The voice was filled with disdain. A familiar voice that made Atty force her eyes open and look at the figure standing a few feet away.

  The soldier advanced toward the w
oman. “If you refuse, I will have to place you under arrest.”

  “Go ahead! Try! You have no idea how much I hate this woman!” Danna Abalam angrily replied. For once, her hands were empty as she stood there with her arms wrapped within her fur-line cloak. Fleetingly, Atty felt grateful the woman wouldn’t be attacking her with another bucket, like she had months before.

  The guard paused, apparently surprised by the strength of the woman’s disgust. Danna pressed on.

  “She murdered my husband. Do you hear me? Murdered him! In cold blood! And I have been waiting a long time to get my revenge.” Gracing the soldier with a pleading smile, she added, “Please. Let me have my due. Just a couple of blows. Let me get this venom I’ve been carrying for so long out of my system. Please. For the sake of my husband’s memory, let me hurt her the same way she’s hurt me and my son.” With tears streaming down her cheeks, she added, “You can watch.”

  The soldier glanced around. Except for the woman, the courtyard was empty.

  “Please!” Danna whispered.

  “All right. A couple of blows, but no more. I’m due to be relieved shortly.”

  Danna gave him a thankful look, then walked toward Atty, stopping less than an arm’s length away.

  Atty met her eye-to-eye, trying to read the woman’s next action. She never expected the stunning blow from the clenched fist, or for the other hand to plow into her abdomen. Gasping, Atty fell against the ropes, unable to defend herself from the slaps and scratches raining down on her.

  And then the beating stopped. Panting, Atty peered up at the woman, who leaned in close enough to whisper in her ear. “Now we’re even.” Danna stepped back and spat at her. Walking over to the guard, she grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it. Without saying another word, the woman left the courtyard the same time another soldier came around the corner of the lodge. He gave the bonfire a wide berth and saluted Atty’s guard.