The Battle Lord's Lady (20 page)

“Well, I can see that conversation on this
ride home is going to be quite stimulating,” MaGrath wryly noted as
they descended the wide staircase. Yulen ignored the remark and
finished buckling on his weapons belt.

As they entered the main room, most of the
men were already seated and having their breakfast. When their
commander walked in, several conversations ceased immediately, and
Yulen had no doubt what they’d been discussing. Or in this case,
who.

He and MaGrath took their seats as if nothing
was amiss and proceeded to help themselves. Talk around them slowly
resumed to the normal noise level until all sound ceased again as
suddenly as if a switch had been thrown.

Yulen glanced up to see Atty descending the
stairwell. She carried her bow and quiver in one hand, and the look
on her face was guarded. She wore the new set of pants and long
tunic, but she’d left her hair down, tied behind her ears with a
simple strip of cloth. Clean, fresh, and in the bright lights of
the main hall, she looked totally different from the dirty warrior
girl they’d known from the past few days. Nor was there any denying
the hint of womanly curves visible beneath the white linen shirt.
Furthermore, there was no mistaking the dark indigo color of the
slightly wavy hair that fell down her back.

Someone at the table muttered “Mutah”, but no
one challenged her as she advanced toward the table. It was MaGrath
who finally spoke up.

“Atty! We saved you a seat over here. Better
hurry. We’ll be leaving within the hour.” He motioned to a chair on
the other side of Yulen, who hadn’t missed the fact that Mastin had
taken his own seat on the other side of the empty one. It was
clearly a defensive, protective measure. He made a mental note to
thank the man later.

Despite MaGrath’s hearty welcome, she
remained cautious. She was in enemy territory, even with the
protection of a Battle Lord. Placing her weapon conspicuously
across the back of her chair, she took her seat and allowed a
servant to bring her a plate.

The meal went quickly, as everyone was
anxious to get on the road. But knowing that a full breakfast would
tide them over until late afternoon, they made sure to take plenty.
Further conversation was saved for later when traveling. As soon as
they were done, everyone grabbed their gear and exited for the main
courtyard where the horses were already saddled and waiting. Yulen
paid no attention to Batuset’s men as he led Atty and MaGrath to
their mounts. “I’ll join you at the lead as soon as I make sure we
have everyone accounted for,” he told them, then turned to his
horse.

Unseen behind them, one of Batuset’s soldiers
had pulled his sword and was advancing toward the bay on which the
warrior girl sat. It was Verris who spotted the man, but as he was
too far away to stop him, he yelled out a warning.

“
Atty!
Down!
”

Seeing that he’d been spotted, the man
charged, his weapon raised, hoping he still had the advantage. He
never saw the crude arrow that pinned his arm to the side of the
wagon behind him. A heartbeat later, two more arrows had him fast
through his other shirt sleeve and lower right trouser leg. All of
which had been done so fast no one could remember seeing the shafts
flying toward their target. It was almost as if they’d appeared in
place by magic.

Yulen looked over at Atty in time to see her
slowly lowering the longbow. Casually she reached back into the
quiver slung over her shoulder and pulled out a fourth arrow, which
she nocked but didn’t draw. A dozen feet away, the would-be
attacker stuttered in disbelief. He was unhurt, but made as
immobile as if he’d been tied. The soldiers were glued to the
scene.

“Atty.”

She looked over to where Yulen sat astride
his horse. Her face was blank.

“Hit the green pennant.”

Automatically every eye turned to look at the
flag identifying Foster City as it fluttered lazily in the morning
breeze. The pennant itself was no more than a yard long and two
feet wide, colored dark green with three small yellow stars
clustered in the center. The banner flew atop the roof of the main
lodge, a distance of a hundred and fifty yards. Minimum.

She stood in her stirrups and carefully drew
her final arrow. Drew. Aimed. And the arrow arched over the peak of
the roof to snag the material, tearing it away from its mooring.
Arrow and flag disappeared over the other side of the lodge.

“Damn,” she said aloud.

Yulen tried to hold back his smile. “What’s
wrong?” he asked instead.

“I missed.”

His eyes widened, as well as the rest of the
men who were within earshot. “What do you mean? You hit it.”

“Yeah, but I was aiming for the center of the
stars.” She sighed loudly. “Damn wind.”

This time Yulen allowed himself to laugh at
her irritation. Wheeling his horse around, he signaled for everyone
to begin heading out. Batuset’s men stood back, providing an honor
guard to escort them out. As Atty passed them, they nodded in her
direction and laid their hands on the pommel of their swords,
showing they wouldn’t challenge her. She’d proven herself beyond
all doubt—once in the story of her facing the bull ferret two days
ago, and now in the demonstration of her ability, which proved the
story of the ferret could not have been false.

But more than anything, she’d unexpectedly
gained their allegiance when, in stopping the soldier who’d been
intent on killing her, she’d dropped him in his tracks without
shedding any blood. The fact that she and the Battle Lord were
reportedly becoming romantically involved was no longer an issue of
concern with them.

MaGrath grinned broadly as he kneed his mare
and trotted to the front of the line. He would be willing to bet
his next month’s wages that many of Yulen’s troops now held the
warrior girl in higher esteem, if not with pride, that they could
call her theirs. After all, it wasn’t every day that a beautiful
and exotic Mutah warrior could best the finest soldiers in a Battle
Lord’s compound, and at the same time claim their leader’s heart
for herself.

Chapter Twenty-One

Bloods

The morning progressed without any
interruptions. Yulen noticed that Atty intermittently dozed in the
saddle, something MaGrath did not miss, but neither did he comment
on. In fact, conversation was unusually nonexistent.

They stopped briefly around noon to give the
horses water before continuing on. This had been a long and bloody
tour, and it was clear every man in the unit was anxious to get
home, even if it meant skipping their meal so they could put more
miles behind them.

The terrain became noticeably more hilly,
signaling the border between Foster City and Alta Novis. Yulen
excused himself to go check on the troops. The men would be
chomping at the bits, which meant he had to remind them to be on
their guard. No matter how excited they were about returning home
for the season, they couldn’t risk letting their defenses down for
even a moment.

It was nearly an hour later before Yulen
joined the physician at the head of the line. As previously
instructed, MaGrath had kept the pace brisk, but not so fast as to
tire out the horses too quickly. One person was conspicuously
absent. “Where’s Atty?” the Battle Lord asked, glancing around.

“She’ll catch up. She found a strand of
saplings she said she needed for shafts to make more arrows.
Everything all right back there?”

“So far. The men are getting antsy.”

“They’re not the only one,” the physician
dryly remarked. Unfortunately, the comment was lost on the Battle
Lord. MaGrath noticed that the man’s eyes continued to scan the
area although they were already past the northern border of Alta
Novis. Sometime in the next couple of hours they should be spotted
and challenged by one of the advance guards, which was fortunate.
It was getting close to sundown, and it would be dark in a couple
of hours.

As if reading his mind, Yulen called for
their colors to be raised, and a soldier near the head of the line
lifted the half-blue, half-red banner.

“That was quite a risk you took back there,”
MaGrath finally mentioned almost nonchalantly.

Yulen seemed perplexed by the comment. “What
risk?”

“Having her take out the pennant. Do you know
what might have happened if she’d missed?”

The Battle Lord slowly shook his head. “She
wouldn’t have missed,” he stated.

“Oh, sure, you can say that now,” MaGrath
chuckled.

“Liam, did you see which hand she draws
with?”

“Which hand? No. What difference does it
make?”

“Think.” Yulen glanced at him.

MaGrath decided to humor him. Which hand did
she use to draw back the arrows that she’d shot at the soldier?
“Her right,” he announced, feeling proud of himself.

“Okay. And which one did she use to shoot for
the pennant?”

The physician squinted at him. “What do you
mean, which one? Didn’t I just say she used her right?”

“Liam.”

He opened his mouth to say something
more when, in his mind’s eye, he saw Atty take a slow bead on the
flag, drawing back on the bow
with her left
hand
...

Yulen watched as the truth dawned on
his friend. “Holy crap,” the physician muttered. His face actually
went pale, much to Yulen’s satisfaction. “When did
you
learn?”

Chuckling, the Battle Lord said, “That
afternoon in the forest when I went looking for her and she let me
find her. I felt there was something different in the way she had
me in her sights. I knew for certain when she bolted and ran. In
mid-stride she turned and fired at me with the other hand. To be
honest, I don’t even think she’s aware of doing it. To her, it’s
just another way for her to use her weapon.”

“Holy crap,” MaGrath uttered again.
“Wait a minute...she fired
at
you?
”

“Yulen!”

Both men turned to see the warrior girl
riding quickly to catch up with them. Her face was shining in the
sunlight. “Look!” She held up a handful of saplings, each one at
least several feet in length and ramrod straight. “These are
perfect,” she beamed. “May I borrow a few tools when we get to Alta
Novis so I can finish them?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Yulen told
her. “What are you planning on doing with those in the
meantime?”

To answer him, she tossed MaGrath the reins.
“Pull me along, would you, while I strip these down? Yulen, I need
to use your dagger.”

“Here? Now?” he questioned, but tossed her
his short blade anyway. Both men watched in amusement as she
proceeded to strip the bark from the saplings. After another
minute, they turned back around and let her work uninterrupted.

“Why do I get the feeling she’ll never cease
to amaze us?” the physician commented. He wasn’t surprised to see
the smug smile of satisfaction linger on the Battle Lord’s
face.

They continued at their present pace,
stopping only once more to briefly rest and water the horses. Atty
disappeared into the edge of the forest, returning just before
Yulen planned to go in after her. She apologized, but showed him
and MaGrath the feathers she’d managed to find for the arrows, then
climbed back onto her horse and settled herself to continue working
on the shafts with a singleness of purpose they were beginning to
become accustomed to.

Spring was slowly but surely coming back, as
evident as much by the warmer weather and frequent rains as by the
odd patch of wildflowers dotting the roadside and occasional
fields. Yulen had a vague thought about what that evening would
bring once they got to the compound. If it was anything like their
night in Foster City, he knew he would be in for a powerful hurt,
but at the same time he realized that at this point in their
relationship he craved having Atty come in his arms more than
finding his own release. Something about her unabashed acceptance
of what he wanted to do to her, of sharing a mutual touch and
climaxing beneath a lover’s ministrations...

He smiled to himself. It would be a special
treat to have a few of the servants go out into the meadows to
fetch handfuls of the bluer blossoms and spread them over their bed
before he took her to his rooms. Casting a furtive glance behind
him, he saw she was bent over her work, keeping it close to her
chest as she stripped the feathers into fletching and wired them to
the shafts with a thin filament he hadn’t known she had.

“Penny for your thoughts,” MaGrath commented.
“On second thought, don’t tell me. I don’t think I want to
know.”

“Oh?”

“She cooks. She can shoot the eye out
of a flea at a hundred paces. And she’s a one-woman ammunition
depot. The only thing she
isn’t
is a lusty wench in bed, but I guess you already have plans
on what to do about that one, right?”

“Jealous, old man?”

“Actually, you couldn’t pay me enough to be
the one to tell Madigan what you have prepared for our blue-haired
beauty.”

“Been reading my mind again, Liam?”

“More like reading your face. You never were
any damn good at poker, either. So what’s the countdown?”

“To what?”

MaGrath let out an exasperated sigh. “Give me
a break, Yulen. I may be old, but I’m not decrepit. How soon after
we get to Alta Novis are you going to post the banns?”