The Battle Lord's Lady (43 page)

Yulen’s attention snapped back to him.
“Atty?”

“When you attacked Wallis and kidnapped her,
that was when we decided it was time to turn the tables.”

Cursing himself, the Battle Lord remembered
his own two representatives he’d left behind to watch over the
compound. “Where are my men?” he asked tightly.

“They’re fine,” George reassured him. “They
came with us, but asked not to be a part of our forces. They chose
to remain by your side, even against the overwhelming odds. I have
to commend you, D’Jacques. Their loyalty is refreshing.”

“They’re unharmed?”

“Yes, as are the others who tried to defend
this compound upon our arrival. If you care to look out your doors
and windows, you’ll see we’ve already captured a fair portion of
your honor guard, which is how we managed to get this far to see
you,” George said.

Yulen had no doubt the man was speaking the
truth. “Continue, please.”

“Here are our conditions. One, return Atty to
us. Two, send no more ‘representatives’ to Wallis, or to any other
Mutah compound you encounter. And, finally, three, never again
attack another Mutah compound. Because the day you do, we will
reassemble our army and lead it back to your gates, and this
compound and all who inhabit it, will be burned to the ground.
Those are our conditions. Would you like some time to consider
them?”

“Why is Atty part of this?” Yulen asked in a
low voice.

“She’s our best hunter and warrior. Without
her, we would have suffered greatly this past winter. Not only does
she keep our larders filled, but she protects us from the mutated
animals which live in the forests around us,” George answered.

The heavily obese one called Pike spoke up
for the first time since their introduction. “D’Jacques, I sense
something amiss.”

George looked at him. “What is it,
Twoson?”

The man waved a beefy hand in Yulen’s
direction. “He’s hiding something from us. I sense it every time
Atty’s name is mentioned. Where is she, Cleaner? What have you done
with her?”

George held up a hand to still his friend and
turned back to the Battle Lord. “Is she here?”

“Yes, she’s here. She’s upstairs.”

All five pairs of eyes looked up at the
balcony where MaGrath kept vigil. “Are you keeping her prisoner?”
George softly asked.

“No.” Yulen shook his head. “She’s taken ill,
and my physician is trying to save her.

“Save her?” Kalich asked, alarmed. “Why? What
have you done to her, you heartless son of a bitch?” He took a step
toward the Battle Lord, but was held back by George’s extended arm.
Around them Yulen’s soldiers placed their hands on their weapons
and paused, ready and waiting for the word from their leader.

However, Yulen forced himself to keep his
hand away from the pommel of his own sword, knowing that the moment
he went for it, the five men before him were dead. And soon
afterwards, so would they all.

“Someone tried to poison her,” he told them,
trying to keep the fear out of his voice. If not, the one called
Pike would call him on it. “Someone in my company will pay for what
they’ve tried to do. That I promise you.”

“Why would you care if she dies or not?”
Kalich called out. “Why not give her to us now and let us go
home?”

“Fortune, calm heads, remember? D’Jacques,
can Atty walk out on her own?”

“No. She has a high fever and she’s
unconscious. There’s a strong chance...” Suddenly Yulen found he
couldn’t continue. There was mist rising over his eyes, and his
head was threatening to explode. He lifted a trembling hand to his
forehead, acutely aware that every gesture he made was being
watched by his men.

“My name is Liam MaGrath. I’m Atty’s
physician,” a voice carefully said beside him. Yulen turned to see
his friend presenting his best authoritative face to the entourage.
“I’ve been studying the plant that was put in Atty’s water bag, but
I haven’t been able to figure out what she’s been poisoned
with.”

“Can you describe it?” George asked.

“Some kind of little red flower, along with
the leaves. Bifurcated. That’s all I can ascertain. Oh, except it
made the water salty. Brackish, she called it.”

“Borash?” Vogel murmured, looking at the
others.

“Sounds like it,” Pike responded. The others
nodded in agreement.

Yulen stared at them. “Borash? What’s
that?”

“A tiny red flower, related to the scarlet
pimpernel. In very minute amounts it can calm a racing heart,
preventing it from stopping altogether. But you have to be
extremely careful not to use too much, or it can have the opposite
effect.” Vogel blinked rapidly. “You said it was in her water
bag?”

“She drank what might have been at least a
liter of the tainted water. We’ve tried to induce vomiting, but
without results. We’ve also tried to force more fluids into her,
but the poison’s working too quickly. Please tell us you have an
antidote for this borash,” MaGrath begged softly.

A blackness seemed to envelope the room as
George slowly shook his head. “None that I know of. But, then
again, none of us here are trained in the medicinal arts.”

Looking directly at Yulen, the elderly leader
said, “Give us Atty so we can take her back to her home where she
belongs. She deserves to die where she was born, among those of us
who love her and care about her, and who watched her grow up and
become the type of woman she was destined to be. Let us leave with
her now, and give us your word that you will uphold our last two
conditions, and we will leave you in peace. What do you say,
D’Jacques?”

Yulen opened his mouth but no sound would
come out. All his mind could fathom at that moment were the first
words George had spoken.

Give us Atty so we can take her back to her
home where she belongs.

Take her away from Alta Novis, away from him.
Let her die where she was born. Let her die among those who love
her. Let her die without him near. Without him there to see her
last breath.

“May the Battle Lord accompany her with you
to Wallis?” MaGrath requested, giving Yulen an extra moment to
collect himself.

“For what reason?” George inquired.

“For no other reason than to allow a husband
to accompany his wife to her final resting site,” the physician
replied.

The shock on the representatives’ faces was
evident to everyone watching in the main hall.

Kalich gasped, clearly appalled.
“You
lie!
Atty would never
have willingly married—”

Pike reached over to lay a hand on the man’s
shoulder. “He tells the truth, Fortune. I also sense that Atty has
given her virtue to the Battle Lord, and I sense it was done
willingly, without coercion.” The huge man gave Yulen a sad look.
“I also sense a deep sadness coming from this man. You loved our
Atty, didn’t you, D’Jacques?”

Yulen grimaced. “Love. Not loved. My feelings
for her will remain unchanged, even after her death.”

George gave a deep sigh. “I’m sorry,
D’Jacques, but the tension among our kind is as strong as it is
here. If we allowed you to come back with us, I can’t guarantee
your safety. Not without a full regiment of men accompanying you,
and you know that can’t be allowed either. I’m sorry,” he
apologized again. “We’ll be back in the morning with a wagon to
take her home. Until then, say your goodbyes tonight.”

The elderly man turned and began to walk out
of the main hall, followed by the other four. They strode
unhindered through the main gates where Yulen’s men let them out,
locking the doors behind them. MaGrath watched their departure as
Yulen left to return to his bedroom.

The sound of his door closing was like the
sound of a hammer hitting the last nail in the lid on Atty’s
coffin.

Chapter Forty-Five

Vows

Yulen remained by her bedside throughout the
night. Around midnight Mastin came to give his final report for the
day. The mutant army remained encamped around the whole of the
compound, but there was no sign of advancement or readying for war.
Yulen understood. George was a man of his word. He no more wanted
bloodshed than Yulen did. What he and the others of his kind were
trying to do was to make a bold and brave attempt at a compromise
that would spare generations to come.

After bidding his Second goodnight, Yulen
fetched a basin of water and gave Atty another sponge bath in one
more vain attempt to bring down her fever. He watched as his hands
ran the yellow sponge over her pale skin, unable to stop the
memories of the past few days from washing over him.

How she shivered in his embrace. Her playful
smile and her laughter. The way she demanded him to ride her harder
while they were in the throes of satiating their passion for each
other.

How she brushed away his hair from his
shoulders so she could place tiny kisses along his neck and upper
arms. The ice in her eyes as she aimed her weapon to kill. The way
she tilted her head whenever she was thinking. The guttural sound
of her voice as he brought her to her climax.

She never woke as he bathed her. Caressed
her. Placed kisses against her throat, and sighed, aching, as he
felt her weakening pulse against his lips.

He breathed her hair and remembered the first
time he knew its true color. Warm, salty tears fell onto her
forehead as he brushed the sweat-soaked locks. He wiped the wetness
off her skin with the sleeve of his shirt, then pressed his cheek
to hers and whispered loving words into her ear. Words he wished
she could hear. Words that came from his heart.

The sky lightened in the east. Yulen doused
the last lantern, returning to the bed to hold her hand as he
watched the sun send its warmth through the window. He was past
needing to sleep and beyond the ability to eat. His time with her
was measured in heartbeats now, and he memorized every pore in her
skin as it turned golden in the light.

Pressing her fingers to his lips, he waited
to hear the knock on the door that would let him know it was time
to take her out beyond the gates. When the knock finally came,
softly and hesitantly, he called out for them to enter, keeping his
eyes on her.

“Yulen. Hurry and dress. There’s not much
time.”

He turned slightly to see Madigan standing at
the foot of the bed. She was carrying something white. Another hand
touched his shoulder, and he looked up to see MaGrath behind
him.

“Folchen is downstairs in the courtyard.
Hurry up. George and his men will be here within the hour.”

The physician handed him a bundle of clothes.
Yulen started, recognizing his ceremonial tunic. The deep blue one
he’d told Atty about. The one he’d said he wanted to wear on their
wedding day because it was the same color as her hair.

He glanced over at his mother and finally saw
what she was carrying. It was a wedding gown of pure white linen.
Plain and simple in design, with long sleeves and a plunging
neckline. How she’d managed to have it completed overnight was a
mystery to him.

Seeing his expression, Madigan smiled
tenderly. “I’ll dress her while you get ready.”

Giving him another shove that guided him in
the direction of the bathroom, MaGrath added, “I don’t like having
to lie to the enemy. I told them you were husband and wife. Now we
have to make good on it. Yulen, go get dressed.”

By the time he emerged from the bathroom,
Madigan had dressed Atty and was braiding her hair to loop in a
crown around her head. Pinning the hair in place, she proceeded to
weave morning glory blossoms through it. In the early dawn, the
flowers were just beginning to open up, revealing their deep, rich
petals.

“Can you carry her outside? Or do you want me
to?” MaGrath asked.

In answer, Yulen lifted her tenderly into his
arms, careful to keep her head propped under his chin. There was a
slight fluttering of her eyes, and he jerked around to look at the
physician.

“I gave her a little draught to awaken her.
It won’t last long, but she should be cognizant enough to recite
her vows. It was dangerous for me to do it, but we have no choice.
Come. We must hurry.”

They exited the room, quickly descending the
staircase, where Yulen paused in astonishment. His men filled the
main hall, all of them dressed in their ceremonial uniforms. All of
them bearing their weapons as they presented a guard of honor to
their Battle Lord and his Lady.

A tug on his sleeve reminded him that time
was precious. They exited the main hall and entered the courtyard
where Yulen got another shock.

Overnight his people had erected a large
white tent in the center of the open area. Garlands of fresh spring
flowers hung across ropes tied from poles planted on opposite ends
of the compound.

Mastin walked up as Yulen took in the
decorations. “I believe the Battle Lady wanted her pomp and
pageantry?” the Second told him.

“But...” The Battle Lord watched as his
people began filling the courtyard. He gave the soldier an accusing
stare.

“Not me, Sir. Blame your mother. She was the
one who got word out to the compound about your sacrifice. It was
her and their decision to have the ceremony.” He motioned with his
head toward the tent where Yulen could see everyone was gathered,
including Folchen, the man of faith for Alta Novis.

He carried Atty to the tent, feeling her
stirring. Quickly he beat down the bud of hope that wanted to raise
itself toward the rays the morning sun. Her movements were false,
brought about by one of MaGrath’s medical miracles. He could only
pray she would have enough of her wits about her to understand what
was about to happen.