One Battle Lord’s Fate

by Linda Mooney

  “What if the fire hits the compound walls?”

  Yulen grinned. “Guess we’ll be dealing with some crispy critters.”

  “Take care, Yulen.” The physician patted his knee. “Try to leave something for your son to inherit.”

  “After today, he’ll have three compounds to select from.” The Battle Lord turned his horse around and galloped off before MaGrath could ask what three compounds. But after thinking about it for a while, he knew.

  *

  “We’re under attack.”

  Tory nearly dropped the knife she was using to chop vegetables, and glanced up to see Atty open the front door. Even in the kitchen she could hears the screams and yells coming from the compound’s walls.

  Fortune hurried from the bedroom. He wore his hunting gear, including his belt of knives running diagonally across his chest. He also wore a bow and quiver of arrows. In his hand was the crossbow and quiver of short arrows, which he handed to Atty.

  “Are you sure you can manage one-handed?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Atty, even for a Mutah, you haven’t had much time to recover,” Tory said.

  “I can’t stay here and watch my compound being overrun by Bloods.”

  “Then don’t try to take them all on by yourself,” Fortune told her. “Let your goal not be how many Bloods you can take out, but surviving so you can get back with your husband and son.” He glanced back at his wife. “I’ll watch over her. Bar the door behind us. If worse comes to worse, get up into the attic. You can reach the roof from there.”

  Atty and Fortune slipped out of the house and hurried between the rows of houses and shops, toward the nearest compound wall. None of Rafe D’Jacques soldiers who saw them tried to challenge them, even when they saw weapons in their hands. To them, a couple of townspeople with weapons were an advantage.

  “The fighting appears more intense along the north wall,” Atty observed.

  Fortune pointed to a ladder several feet away. “Let’s get up on top so we can get a better view of what’s happening.”

  Taking the crossbow from her, he let her climb up the ladder first, then followed her up to the catwalk. Before they reached the top, they could smell the sickening stench given off by the Blood army.

  Atty took the crossbow and set it on top of the wall. Fortune watched as over the next half hour she methodically picked off Bloods who came within reach of her arrows. Between the two of them, they took a toll on the enemy. Several soldiers spotted her, but were unsure what to make of the black-haired woman with the incredible aim, and the man who was with her.

  A one point, a couple of men paused as they hurried down the parapet. Fortune recognized them as Yulen’s men. They stared at Atty, then at Fortune. One started to approach when Fortune emphatically shook his head. The soldier immediately stopped, nodded slightly, and turned to leave. But at that point, Fortune knew word would fly about Atty’s appearance on the wall.

  “Do you smell that?” Atty whispered.

  Fortune froze, every nerve alert as his body switched to hunter’s mode. Atty was staring north. He turned to find what she was focusing on.

  In the distance, past the tree line, a thin gray cloud rose into the air. Further down, a longer stream floated above the tree tops. The smell blowing their way was unmistakable, even above the corrupted reek.

  “Smoke.” He glanced at Atty. “Campfires?”

  “Who sets campfires in a straight line nearly two hundred yards long?”

  He looked back at the smoke, now rising like a great gray-black wall behind the Blood army. Here and there, flames could be seen flickering between the trees. The enemy was beginning to notice the fires. Many of them backed away from trying to scale the compound’s wall. Their hesitation cost them as Yulen’s archers, personally trained by Atty, picked them off.

  “The tide’s beginning to turn,” Fortune commented matter-of-factly.

  She fired an arrow, taking out a Blood through the ear. “Thanks to whoever is setting that fire.”

  “Maybe the Mutah?”

  Atty suddenly stiffened. Her eyes widened, and a look of pure joy came over her.

  “Yulen,” she whispered. “Yulen?” she said louder, almost shouting.

  Fortune peered in the direction where Atty was looking. There was movement beyond the trees. A handful of soldiers advanced past the tree line and crouched, spears at ready. More soldiers appeared on horseback behind them. Even at this distance, he could see the rear of each saddle bore the half blue, half red banner representing Alta Novis.

  Fortune started to ask if she could see the Battle Lord, when Atty swung the crossbow over one shoulder and started to descend the ladder, moving as quickly as she could with one good hand. He pivoted around and looked back over the wall. Just behind the soldiers, a figure came into view. A figure with golden red hair, and riding a pale horse.

  Twenty feet away, one of the small doors used by people to come and go from the compound flew open. He watched as Atty stepped through and straightened up. A Blood also saw her exit, and started toward her as she secured the door shut, a rock clutched in its upraised fur-covered hand. Atty started to lift the crossbow when an arrow caught the creature in the neck and disappeared down inside its body, until only the fletchings were visible. Atty glanced up at Fortune and gave a little salute. Then she turned and started running toward figure on horseback.

  “Yulen!”

  Fortune watched as she stumbled across the field. The fire was gathering strength, forming a nearly solid line of flames between the compound and the forest. Yet, she managed to zigzag her way, finding those small spots where there was an opening.

  More Bloods tried to attack her, but they were quickly dispatched with an arrow by him or by one of Yulen’s men. Several seconds passed as the Battle Lord watched the lone figure running toward him, struggling to reach him. A figure with ebony hair who continued to call out his name, that was carried by the wind and smoke and heat over the compound walls. It took the man several seconds to recognize who she was. When he did, he slid off the horse and started running toward her. He caught her just as she reached the tree line and collapsed in his arms.

  Fortune wiped the tears from his eyes as the couple embraced. When Yulen lifted his wife into his arms and vanished back into the trees, the hunter started down the ladder to go home.

  The Bloods were milling about in confusion, breaking from the main pack and running away as the fire in the forest intensified. The soldiers on the wall were picking them off, and not necessarily paying attention to who was up on the catwalk with them. Eventually, the mutants would reassemble. Whoever was leading them would determine whether or not to attack again. But in the meantime, Fortune could rest easy knowing Atty and Yulen were back together.

  Elsewhere, circumstances were about to come to a head.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Devious

  Fortune remembered climbing down the ladder to go back to his home when two of Rafe D’Jacques’ men accosted him. They never said a word. He barely had stepped off the last rung when both men attacked, using the hilt and pommel of their swords to beat him into unconsciousness.

  He had no idea how long he was out, but he was very aware of where he woke up. He was suspended from a crossbeam between the two front legs of the bell tower. His arms were tied above his head, the thick ropes already cutting into his wrists, as evidenced by the trickles of blood running down his arms.

  His head continued to pound. His arms felt like they were being pulled from the sockets. Standing on tiptoe helped somewhat to ease the strain, but the moment he tried to stand normally, the agony in his shoulders and back increased.

  “Good people of Alta Novis! Take a good look at your enemy! At my enemy! This creature who calls himself a man was up on the walls, firing arrows at our soldiers! Killing our protectors! Allowing those repugnant creatures a better chance at gaining access to our homes and families! He was in league with those hideous monste
rs!”

  Fortune shook his head to clear his vision. Several feet away, Rafe D’Jacques paced back and forth as he addressed the growing crowd in the courtyard. The Battle Lord dramatically pointed a finger at him as he worked the people into a frenzy.

  “This Mutah, whom you allowed into this compound, is not like us! He’ll never be like us! He only came to this compound to trick you into thinking he was your friend, when in truth, he is an agent for those unholy mutants screaming at our gates! He is a spy, and thus, he will be treated as a spy!”

  A few voices cheered D’Jacques, but the rest of the people remained silent. Their eyes went from the Battle Lord, to Fortune, and back to their new leader. Fortune shook his head.

  “You’re full of shit, D’Jacques, and they know it!”

  His comment earned him a stunning slap to the side of the head with a gloved hand. Gritting his teeth, he rode the pain as he tried to catch what other lies D’Jacques spewed. But the man had made his speech. What would come next would be his method for dealing with Fortune.

  A hand grabbed his tail, yanking it viciously. Too late, Fortune realized he’d forgotten to wrap it around his waist, hiding it from sight. No wonder D’Jacques’ men were able to single him out.

  “This Mutah is and always will be our enemy! I say, death to all Mutah! The only good Mutah is a dead Mutah!”

  “I was fighting the Bloods,” he called out. “If I was a threat to you and your men, why was I on the wall helping them fight the enemy?”

  D’Jacques moved closer. “I have witnesses who saw you kill two of my men with your arrows. You and whoever that black-haired woman was accompanying you.”

  It was almost too funny to watch D’Jacques eyes widen to the size of apples as the man suddenly realized what he’d said.

  “The black-haired woman! She was the Mutah bitch!”

  Fury burned his face red. The cords in his neck stood out as he drew his sword.

  Fortune winced. This would be his end. His death. The man either planned to run him through, or cut off his head. Either way, his corpse would remain tied to the bell as a reminder of what D’Jacques planned for all Mutah.

  He scanned the crowd, desperately searching for Tory’s beloved face. One last time, he prayed silently. Please. Let me see her face one last time.

  D’Jacques strode over to the tower, bent over, and grabbed Fortune’s tail. Swinging him around, Rafe held it up. “This Mutah wants to be Normal? He wants us to believe he can be like us? Then let us accommodate him!”

  The man raised his sword, and with one hard whack, severed several inches of the tail from Fortune’s body. Fortune screamed as fire and pain raced up his spine before spreading out to the rest of his body. And the agony didn’t stop. The leftover stump spewed blood all over Fortune’s legs and buttocks, as well as the ground beneath him. Several people shrieked at the dismemberment. The crowd, as a whole, gasped in shock.

  Standing to the side, D’Jacques smiled. He held aloft the nearly foot-long portion he’d cut off for all to see.

  “When I became your Battle Lord, I made the decree that all Mutah should leave this compound immediately, or else face death. This creature did not heed my warning. As a result, this will be his penalty and method of death. Today I have taken that which marked him as Mutah. Tomorrow, I will cut off another body part. And then a third body part the day after tomorrow. I will not stop until this Mutah has been severed into several pieces, and the only thing left of him are his arms suspended from the bell tower.”

  Tossing the tail onto the ground, he ordered one of his men to nail it to the post beside Fortune. Then he left the gathering to disappear into the main lodge.

  *

  The truth of the Mutah bitch’s trickery burned in his gut like soured pudding. She had been hiding in plain sight, and none of his soldiers had recognized her!

  He slammed his hands on a table, and felt a stickiness between his fingers. The Mutah’s blood was still on his hands from when he’d cut off the creature’s tail. His first reaction was to wipe his hands on his shirt, but he stopped himself in time.

  “Soap and water! Bring me soap and water!” he nearly roared. He detected movement behind the kitchen doors. Seconds later, the big burly woman who ran the kitchen came with a large bowl of water. She placed it on the table, along with the towel and bar of soap she’d carried under one arm.

  Quietly, she backed away and waited for him to wash the blood from his hands. When he was done, he nodded she could leave, tossing the towel over his shoulder. She paused and looked at the towel.

  “I need it to clean my blade,” he said.

  She nodded and disappeared back into the back area of the main lodge. At the same time, the side door swung open, and the other Battle Lords walked into the room.

  “D’Jacques?” Dissman stepped forward and addressed him. Apparently the others had tapped him to be their representative. “We must have a word with you.”

  “Take a seat, but make it brief. If you haven’t noticed, I’m at war at the moment.” Pulling his sword from its scabbard, he began to clean the blade with the towel.

  “Yes, we’ve noticed. We’ve also noticed your careless, almost flagrant ineptitude in handling this takeover.”

  Rafe straightened up. “I beg your pardon?”

  The other Battle Lords continued to stand. They faced him almost in formation. Their stance was both deliberate and challenging.

  “You told us before this all came about that we would divide up the spoils. You said all you wanted was to clear the compound of Mutah infestation, and claim Alta Novis for your own. You promised us ripe portions of D’Jacques’ wealth, all for the price of allowing our soldiers to join with yours to help overcome D’Jacques’ men.”

  Evermil held out a cupped hand. “We’re waiting for our spoils.”

  “I need to get back to my own compound,” Meyers commented. “I want to take my men and head out first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “And you want what you’re due, right?” Rafe asked with a grin.

  The others exchanged glances. If Rafe’s recent actions made them uneasy, his expression at that moment made them more uncomfortable.

  Anastopolis nodded. “We all need to leave. The time we had allotted for this conference is over. We have our own problems to deal with, and we need to get home as soon as possible. When can we expect our cut?”

  Rafe turned his attention back to his sword, slowly running the towel over the sharp metal blade to remove all trace of blood. When he was done, he re-sheathed the weapon and carefully folded the stained towel, leaving it on top of the table. When he was done, he faced the men.

  “I have soldiers gathering up what valuables they can find from the townspeople and merchants. They’ll bring the goods here and lay them out on these tables. You want to get an early start home tomorrow morning? Then return here at dawn to make your selections. Be sure to bring several large sacks with you to hold the booty. I was told there will be more than jewelry to choose from.”

  Leaning against the table, Rafe crossed his arms over his chest. “Thank you again for the loan of your men. They were instrumental in helping me take this compound and fighting those invading mutants. Those things know they’ve more than met their match, and are already retreating. You should have a relatively safe passage home.”

  The men glanced at each other again. It was obvious by their body language Rafe’s reply was to their liking. Dissman gave a slight nod.

  “Good. Now that our concerns have been addressed and met, we will return at dawn to divvy up the spoils and be on our way. Good day, D’Jacques.”

  One by one, the Battle Lords bid goodbye, satisfied to be the richer at little or no effort by them personally. Rafe watched them leave. As the side door closed behind them, Janelle exited again from her apartment. Placing her hands on the banister, she leaned over the short balcony.

  “You didn’t tell me the soldiers were bringing what they found here inside this lodge
.”

  Rafe snorted in amusement. “They’re not.”

  “But you told those men¯”

  “Mother.” He gave her one of his impatient looks. “Five Battle Lords have just conspired with me to take over this compound. Word is those Mutah are threatening all compounds, including theirs, so they’re anxious to return to their homes to prepare for a possible attack.” He turned his head to stare at the side door again, his sick grin growing wider. “Sadly, unfortunate events will prevent them from returning.”

  “Rafe! You’re not…”

  “Currently, their soldiers are under my command. All I need to do is keep them posted around the compound so they remain ignorant of what is about to happen.”

  “What is about to happen, Rafe?”

  Tsking, he shook his head in pretend sorrow. “Sadly, the Mutahs were able to infiltrate inside the compound, and several went into hiding here inside the main lodge. When the Battle Lords arrived to claim their portions, the Mutah savagely butchered the men. Outnumbered them. Took them completely by surprise. The Battle Lords never had a chance.”

  “And you? How did you survive?”

  “I was preparing to meet with them, when I got word of the attack. By the time I arrived with a small company of men, the Battle Lords were dead, but I was able to kill the creatures responsible and tack them to the compound walls as a lesson to all. Which reminds me, I need to send a few men outside to gather up a corpse or two to use as proof.”

  “And you think you’re actually going to get away with that story?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Who is going to question me, dear Mother, when I have hundreds of people who’ll back my claim of a mutant attack on this compound?”

  Janelle turned and walked back inside her apartment with responding. Smiling, Rafe walked over to the big stone fireplace to enjoy a few moments of peace and the warmth of the flames.

  Chapter Thirty-Six