The Battle Lord's Lady (44 page)

Before Folchen began, Madigan walked over and
pressed something in Yulen’s left hand, the one that cradled Atty’s
ribcage. Yulen recognized the slender platinum band, and he stared
questioningly at her.

“This ring has been in our family for
generations. Your father gave it to me, but I don’t need it
anymore. It rightfully belongs to her now.” She glanced over at
MaGrath, who was watching. Getting up on tiptoe, she gave her son a
kiss on his cheek. Leaning over, she placed an equally gentle kiss
on Atty’s temple.

“Sir?”

A sigh came from his arms. Yulen could feel
his heart tying to break through the bonds he’d tried so hard to
put around it in preparation for her death. MaGrath came over and
checked her pulse. “Hey, there,” he whispered. “Wake up, Atty. It’s
your wedding day.”

She moved a fraction in his arms, and Yulen
caught himself before he dropped her. He could feel his face flush
as he fought the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. His arms
were trembling, and the physician noticed his reactions.

“It’s okay, Yulen. We all understand.”

“Yul?”

Atty’s eyes fluttered open, and she found
herself looking up into a pair of blue-gray eyes almost identical
in color to her own. She blinked against the bright morning light,
despite the fact that they were standing underneath the tent.

“I’m here, Atrilan. Can you see me? Can you
understand me?” he asked her in a low voice.

“Where...are we?”

“We’re outside in the courtyard. Are you
ready to say your vows with me? Will you?”

He lifted her head slightly so she could get
a better view of what was happening. Her eyes traveled down to the
white linen dress covering her, and she sighed. “Thank you.”

“No.” Yulen shook his head and kissed
her brow, keeping his lips against her hot skin. “Thank
you.
You’ve sacrificed everything to
be with me, and you’ll have my heart forever because of
it.”

He carried her over to where they were
directly underneath the center of the tent. Folchen was dressed in
his black robes, ready to officiate. “Forgive the brevity,
sir.”

“I understand,” Yulen assured him.

Lifting his hands, he enunciated. “Yulen
D’Jacques, do you take this woman, Atrilan Ferran, as your wedded
wife? If so, please answer with ‘I will’.”

“I will.”

“Atrilan Ferran, do you take this man, Yulen
D’Jacques, as your wedded husband. If so, please answer with ‘I
will’.”

Atty took a breath. “I...” And a second
breath to finish. “Will.”

The man of faith leaned over to make sure the
woman spoke with a clear and open mind. Satisfied, he nodded.
“Present the ring, sir,” he ordered the Battle Lord.

MaGrath stepped forward to take Atty into his
arms so Yulen could be free to perform the next step.

“Place the ring on her hand and repeat after
me. With this ring...”

“With this ring...” He slipped the band onto
her finger. For a moment his breath caught in his throat as her
hand convulsed and gripped his in return.

“I take you as my wife...”

“I take you as my wife...” Yulen
repeated.

“Until death parts us.”

“Until...” He bowed his head and felt himself
trembling. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to repeat the
final part of his vows as his voice cracked under the strain.
“Until death parts us.”

Folchen glanced at him, aware of what the man
was going through, and lifted his arms. “In front of all those
present, I now pronounce these two to be husband and wife! May no
man break their bonds of love!”

Outside the tent, people began to cheer, but
their jubilation would be short-lived. Already a small squad of
Mutah soldiers were approaching the tent. Yulen took Atty from the
physician and turned to face them. She moved slightly against him,
snuggling into his embrace. He glanced down to see if she was aware
of them, but she had already succumbed once more to darkness.
MaGrath’s potions had done their job.

Silently, everyone watched as the squad
stopped before the Battle Lord. The Mutah at the lead raked his
eyes over Atty’s unconscious form, and he raised an eyebrow at
Yulen.

“The wagon is ready.”

“Lead me to it,” Yulen said.

The crowd parted to let them through as
Yulen, with his new bride in his arms, followed the squad of Mutah
to where the huge double doors stood open. Behind him, Madigan
clutched MaGrath and sobbed quietly against his shoulder, the both
of them unable to watch the travesty taking place, yet unable to
keep themselves from witnessing every moment.

Throughout the courtyard, people reached
outward, showing their Battle Lord their support and gratitude.
Many wept, lost in the grief written on their leader’s face,
shedding the tears he couldn’t as he sedately carried his Battle
Lady to where her people were waiting. Here was their leader,
forfeiting everything to keep the peace. Here was a man,
relinquishing the woman he loved more than life, in order to save
the lives of everyone else in the compound.

Along the parapet and battlements, Yulen’s
men lifted their swords, raising them high over their heads by the
blade with the hilts facing upward. The symbol of peace. The sign
of the end of a conflict. If Yulen saw their accolade, he made no
gesture toward it. Slowly, steadily, he continued to walk out the
double gates, into the front yard of the compound, and toward the
wagon where the men he’d spoken with yesterday were waiting.

The Mutah force was a giant blanket of
humanity covering the land as far as he could see.

Reaching the wagon, Yulen gave the men a
cursory glance before tenderly laying Atty on the bed of blankets
they’d arranged for her. He straightened out her wedding gown, and
tucked a stray lock of hair back into place. That done, he leaned
over to place his goodbye kiss on her breast, directly over her
heart. “Farewell, my beloved Atrilan,” he murmured into her ear,
then stepped back.

Fortune Kalich walked over to fasten the
tailgate over the back of the wagon. But before he climbed onto the
seat, he stopped and reached over to take Atty’s hand where it lay
across her stomach. Yulen watched in silent agony as the man
designated as her guardian removed the wedding band from her hand
and held it out toward him. The Mutah’s face was dark with
suppressed anger.

Taking back the ring, Yulen grasped it
tightly in the palm of his hand. He remained standing there and
watched as the wagon bearing Atty’s body gradually pulled away. He
continued to watch as the Mutah army turned and silently withdrew.
Some went south, others headed west, but most followed the small
wagon. Like receding waves, they disappeared into the distance.

He waited until the wagon vanished at the top
of the rise. By then every Mutah soldier was gone from sight.
Slowly, the Battle Lord turned around and walked back into the
compound, past the honor guard, past his people, and into the main
lodge. Silently, he climbed the stairs leading back up to the
bedroom where, less than an hour ago, he’d held Atty in his
arms.

And he closed the door.

Outside on the bell tower, Mastin rung the
bell twelve times—three for birth, three for life, three for death,
and three for love everlasting.

The traditional twelve bells of a
wedding.

Chapter Forty-Six

Wallis

“I’m going to Wallis.”

MaGrath and Mastin jumped up from the long
table where they had gathered for dinner. Madigan also gasped and
rose unsteadily to her feet.

Yulen had not come out of his room for the
past three days, eating little and seeing no one. Now he stood
before them, gaunt and pale but determined. His weapons belt was
around his waist. Around his neck, suspended on a thin leather
lacing, was Atty’s wedding ring.

“Yulen, that’s suicide,” MaGrath started to
object. At the Battle Lord’s upraised hand, he sighed loudly,
shaking his head. “Then at least take a small garrison with
you.”

“No. I have to go this one alone.”

“Why, Yulen?” Madigan asked. She knew beyond
a doubt that if he tried to go to the Mutah compound, the chances
were he’d never return alive. Her tears caught in her throat. What
did it matter anyway, when the man was perishing before their
eyes?

“Yes, why, Yulen?” MaGrath echoed. “What do
you hope to accomplish by such a stupid stunt?”

“I have to know, Liam. I have to have some
sort of...closure. I’m losing what sanity I have left. I can’t take
this not knowing if she died. When she died. Where she’s buried.
The uncertainty is eating me alive.” He tried to say more but the
words wouldn’t come. Turning around, he started to walk out of the
main hall. Mastin hurried after him.

“Take me with you, sir!”

Yulen shook his head, only to have MaGrath
run up and shove him hard on the shoulder.

“If we can’t talk you out of this suicide
mission, at least give us some faint piece of mind in knowing you
have a sword guarding your back. Think about what Atty would have
wanted.”

Yulen paused to glare at the man. “You fight
dirty, you know that?” he accused him.

The physician managed a small smile. “She
told me the exact same thing.”

“Very well. Cole, grab your things. We’re
leaving now.”

He strode out the door and called for Paxton.
The lieutenant appeared almost instantly outside the stables.

“I’m leaving you in charge of the forces,”
Yulen told the man. “You will take your orders directly from
Madigan or MaGrath, am I clear?”

“Yes, sir! Where are you going, sir?”

Rather than answer him, Yulen jumped on his
horse and left the compound at a dead gallop. Mastin did his best
to keep up.

They raced down the road, setting a
ground-eating lope that wouldn’t tire the horses too quickly. The
Second stayed to the side but behind the Battle Lord, aware of the
change that slowly came over the man’s visage as they left familiar
territory. It was almost as if he was coming to peace with
himself.

Mile after mile they traveled, until Yulen
began to slow down. He glanced over at Mastin, signaling for a
brief stop. Mastin nodded. They broke bread for a quick lunch.
Yulen impatiently waited the hour for the horses to rest. Then they
were back on the road.

It was a five days’ journey to Wallis by slow
horse. Yulen was determined to make it in four. He bypassed Foster
City yet kept to the main road. They passed several groups of
travelers, mostly traders who went from compound to compound
hawking their wares. On this major highway that linked north to
south, everyone was allowed access, including certain Mutah who
bore special papers signifying their right to travel. Yulen had no
doubt, though, that the army of Mutah warriors may have gone a
different route he was unfamiliar with. He couldn’t see hundreds of
armed mutant men risking a confrontation with armed soldiers from
other compounds.

They were three days ahead of him. He would
cut that lead to two days. Two days. A lot could happen in two
days. Funerals could be held in two days. Grief, however, lasted
forever.

He couldn’t begin to explain the unbearable
ache that engulfed him after they took Atty away. He tried to
remember how he felt when his father had died. As much as he had
loved the man, it couldn’t compare to the pain he felt now, pain
that wouldn’t stop suffocating him.

Sleep wouldn’t take him. The sheets still
smelled of her. Her pillow was a poor, faint comfort in his arms.
Even his dreams, when he could escape into unconsciousness,
betrayed him.

By some miracle had she survived? If she had,
would she come back to him? Would he be sent word she was alive and
whole? Through the sobs that wracked him, he condemned himself for
allowing himself even that small shred of hope.

No. She would not have survived the trip back
to her home. Piron George had known it. So had the others. No, when
they finally arrived back to the compound, they would hold her
funeral. Vaguely Yulen wondered if they buried or burned their
dead.

It was on the second day of his self-imposed
exile that he’d stumbled across Atty’s empty quiver. Somehow it had
gotten lost under the bed, probably inadvertently kicked there
during the scurrying to get her prepared for the ceremony.

He’d taken it to the window to examine it
closely. He finally found the extra compartment she’d spoken of. It
was inside at the bottom of the quiver. He lifted the leather flap
and found a small ball of thin filament, the wire she’d used to
fasten the fletchings to the shafts. There were no more barbs.
She’d used the last of them in their skirmish with the Bloods.

He jerked on one of the long leather lacings
tying the skins of the quiver together. It popped off with a snap.
On it he strung the wedding ring she’d briefly worn, then tied the
whole thing around his neck. It only helped a tiny bit, but it
helped.

That night he had gone out to the parapet and
looked out in the direction where the Mutah army had retreated. The
sentry on duty recognized him but left him alone. When a brisk wind
suddenly blew in, he turned to look at the pennant snapping on its
cable.

But I was aiming for the
center of the stars,
her voice echoed in the hole in
his soul.

Lowering his head, he quickly made his way
back to his room while he could still hold back the tears.

It was on the third day that Yulen came to
realize there would be no end to the empty abyss relentlessly
swallowing his sanity. He had to know, had to find out, one way or
another, even as his heart told him his journey would not end
happily.