The Battle Lord's Lady (45 page)

No, not happily, but it would end. Finally
and definitely end. Once he saw her body. Or her grave. Or whatever
memorial they would erect in her name, in her honor.

And then, when he got back to Alta Novis, he
would also erect a small memorial in her name. He’d put it
somewhere out of the way where he could go and remember her. Most
likely in a quiet, tree-shaded place. She would have like that, he
told himself.

* * * *

Mastin kept to himself during their ride to
Wallis. The Battle Lord said very little. He had the most
difficulty sleeping at night, so that by the third day of their
journey the man was clinging to reality by a thread.

It was by the middle of the fourth day when
Yulen left the main road and began to follow the almost invisible
path that would take them to the Mutah compound buried deep within
the woods. It was several hundred yards into the forest when he
stopped his horse and dismounted, motioning for Mastin to do the
same.

“Cole, this is where we part company,” Yulen
began.

“Sir, pardon me, but this is also the most
dangerous part of our journey,” Mastin dared to argue. In just the
one sentence, the Battle Lord had spoken more words to him than he
had in the past four days.

“I will not risk your life,” Yulen continued.
“Stay here and wait for me.”

“For how long?”

Sighing, Yulen ran a hand through his hair.
For some reason Mastin smiled. It was the first familiar gesture
he’d seen the man make in days.

“If I’m not back in two days’ time, try to
make it safely back to Foster City. But, under no circumstances are
you to follow me to Wallis. I’m giving you direct orders, Cole. Do
you understand?”

The Second swallowed hard and nodded.
“Yulen?” he dared using his leader’s given name. To his surprise,
the man simply turned and waited to hear him out. “You know we’re
praying for her.”

A muscle twitched above the Battle Lord’s
right eye. Otherwise his face remained blank. “Thank you, Cole,” he
replied softly. Getting back on his stallion, he headed back down
the trail, never looking back, and never noticing the tears that
were coating the Second’s face.

* * * *

As his horse dodged thorny bushes and other
obstacles, Yulen kept a lookout for the clearing that would open up
to the compound. He knew without a doubt he would be spotted by
their lookouts long before he arrived at their gates. In fact, they
probably already knew of his arrival.

It was an hour later when his horse found the
road to Wallis. Giving the animal its head, he peered through the
trees, watching for the walls of the compound to loom up out of the
forest like they had the last time he’d been here. Back when he’d
been the enemy in full armor, mercilessly slaughtering any Mutah,
regardless of whether they were men, women, or children. Yulen
grimaced at the memory. No wonder Atty had tried to kill as many of
his soldiers as possible.

“Ho! Stranger! Identify!”

He looked up to see the sentry standing near
the small tower at the edge of the compound. The gate he was
seeking was a few more yards down the road.

“I am Yulen D’Jacques, Battle Lord of Alta
Novis! Husband to Atrilan Ferran!” he called back. “I come in
peace!”

The sentry appeared confused, briefly
disappearing from the catwalk. Popping his head back over the wall,
he called back down, “Remove your weapons!”

Slowly, and with great, elaborate motions,
Yulen got down off his horse and removed his weapons belt. Holding
it out at arm’s length, he dropped it in the dirt, keeping his
hands raised high so they could see he was defenseless.

“Advance, Battle Lord!”

As he got closer to the gate, which had now
been opened to him, Yulen could see a crowd of curious faces
already gathering behind the walls. Overhead a small line of armed
men were also filling the walkway. Stepping over the small
threshold and into the compound, Yulen searched the sea of strange
and unusual faces for one he hoped would be there...knowing it
wouldn’t be, no matter how hard he prayed.

“D’Jacques?” a surprised voice greeted
him.

Yulen turned around. “Piron George. May I
have your permission to lower my arms?”

The elder leader gestured to a soldier
standing nearby. The man patted Yulen down, making certain he
carried no hidden weapons. Giving the leader a nod, George also
nodded to the Battle Lord. “I told you not to come here,” the elder
said in a tight voice.

“I know. Forgive me, but I had no
choice.”

“What do you mean you had no choice?”

Around them, both curious and angry faces
pressed closer and closer, and for the first time Yulen began to
wonder if he’d made a sound decision by coming here.

“Is there some place we can speak privately?”
he asked George.

The elder swept the courtyard with his eyes
before motioning for Yulen to follow him. Together they started
toward a small building. Yulen recognized specific landmarks, now
very visible and distinct in the sunlight. There was the row of
lemon trees, now bearing little green balls of fruit. And across
the way, over to the left...

The bright, sharp knife of pain turned
relentlessly in his heart. It was the shop where he’d kept Atty
captive that night. The shop where he’d watched her shiver from
cold and agony as she tried to sleep. The shop where he’d exposed
his back to her as he removed the ropes from her wrists.

The heat of tears flooded his face, and Yulen
was forced to stop momentarily to try and clear his head. When he
glanced back up, George was staring at him.

“Are you not well, D’Jacques?”

“I’m fine. Where are you taking me?”

The man turned and continued walking. “To our
Council of Elders. If you’ve come this far, it’s only right you
were passed judgment.”

As they continued through the courtyard,
Yulen couldn’t help but notice little, familiar things that made
Wallis seem just like any other compound. Children played from
ropes suspended from tree limbs. Women were gathered around a
market stall, gossiping or arguing over the price of the wares. Two
men were laughing over tankards of drink. All of them ceased what
they were doing to stare at the Cleaner being led toward the
building near the back of the compound. All of them turned to
follow, to see what would be done to the man who dared to invade
their home for the second time.

Just outside the door leading into the
council chambers, Yulen spotted something carved into the bole of a
massive oak a few feet away. The scratching was large and crude,
and obviously done by a child’s hand.

Atty’s tree.

He felt himself go light-headed. Turning a
pale face to George, he watched as the older man nodded. “Yes. She
got quite a whipping for defacing that tree. But so far she’s the
only one who’s ever been able to climb all the way to the top.”

I said up. Surely you used to climb trees
when you were a boy.

The knife in his heart twisted a bit
more.

The building was quickly filling up.
Apparently council meetings were community events. George showed
Yulen to a chair at the front of the room, prominently displayed
before a low table. A row of seven chairs sat behind the table.

Yulen sat quietly, lost in his thoughts as
people stared openly at him. He was aware of the angry looks many
of them were giving him. He knew what they were saying in heated
whispers.

This was her family. They had been part of
Atty’s life for all of her twenty years. Their love and friendship
had nurtured her.

Yulen began to understand the enormity of his
actions, especially the despair he must have caused when he had
literally kidnapped her from her home. Beaten senseless, tortured,
and kidnapped.

It was a miracle she had come to love
him.

From out of nowhere a man barged into the
room and pounded up the aisle, heading directly for the Battle
Lord. Yulen recognized the intent on his spotted face and knew
without a doubt he had a weapon. Throwing up his arms to try and
block him, Yulen was unprepared for the knife to slash downward
inexpertly, plowing through his collarbone, across the center of
his chest. It was a shallow cut, even though it bled profusely. He
hadn’t expected to be attacked in this manner. Then again, he
berated himself as three men grabbed his attacker and pulled him
away, these people were farmers and laborers, not trained
soldiers.

“Darium! How dare you enter this room when
it’s under the white banner!” George shouted angrily.

“He murdered my sister!” the man shouted, and
struggled against those who held him back.

“I murdered no one in this encampment,” Yulen
told them. The cut burned, but it wasn’t a serious wound.

The man he remembered as Pike gave him a
saddened expression. “Maybe not, D’Jacques, but your men did. The
men under your command, who followed your orders. That makes you
just as guilty.”

Yulen nodded. “You’re correct. I’m
sorry.”

By now the room was filled to capacity.
People stood along the walls, and many more waited outside the open
door, listening. The council finished seating itself as George
clapped his hands for attention.

“This is not meant to be a regular meeting.
We are gathered to hear this man out, and to pass judgment on him
if we feel it necessary. I would like to begin by asking you, Yulen
D’Jacques, Battle Lord of Alta Novis, why are you here?”

The room grew quiet, filled with an air of
expectancy.

In a soft voice, he told them. “I came to
learn what happened to Atty. To my wife.”

He knew his confirmation would bring about a
reaction within the crowd. Up until now their marriage would most
likely have been considered a rumor, if not a flat-out lie. It took
a full minute before George could calm the audience down.

Yulen kept his eyes on the council and away
from the crowd. It would only take one person to misread the look
on his face or in his eyes to start a full-scale revolt.

George got to his feet to address the people.
“Twoson confirms this man’s statement to be true. Atty willingly
took this man to husband. There was no coercion.”

Again the noise level rose, but Yulen sensed
a change in mood. He knew without a doubt these people were
wondering now what kind of man he was to have captured the heart of
their beloved warrior. He, a Cleaner, and she, a Mutah.

George re-took his seat. “D’Jacques you said
you wanted to know what we’ve done with Atty?”

The Battle Lord nodded, already feeling the
sick dread sinking into his stomach.

“We’ll tell you what happened to her,” Vogel
hissed. He jumped to his feet from where he sat behind the table
and shook an accusing finger at him. “You destroyed her! Before you
came here she was our greatest hunter. She was our benefactress.
She kept us from starving these past few winters. And then you came
along with your swords and your hatred of all things not normal,
and you took her away. You may not have killed us outright, but by
forcing her to leave, you condemned us all the same!” His words
were sharp, acidic, and full of disgust.

“What more do you want from us?” George asked
darkly. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“May I at least...see her?” Yulen began. His
lungs were refusing to draw air. Breathing was becoming painfully
difficult. Before he could ask whether or not her body was still
intact, a council member he didn’t know got to his feet as
well.

“You’ll see
nothing
,” he hissed, his slitted eyes narrowed in
hate. “Go back to where you came from, Cleaner! Before we declare
the treaty void!”

George nodded, adding, “You’re walking a very
fine line, D’Jacques. Go now, before the men take up their arms
again, and I can’t stop them from marching back to Alta Novis.”

Shakily, Yulen got to his feet. Silently the
people lined along the wall filed out, allowing him to walk
unescorted out of the room. Taking another glance at Atty’s tree,
he took a deep breath and began to head for the gates of the
compound as the crowd watched from a distance. The slash across his
chest stung, but the bleeding had stopped. His blood- and
sweat-soaked shirt clung to his skin.

When he reached the gates, a sentry opened
them for him. It was at that moment Yulen realized the only reason
he was able to walk out of Wallis and return to Alta Novis
relatively unscathed was because he had been Atty’s husband. The
man she’d given her heart and her body to. By allowing him to live,
the Mutah were honoring her.

His horse was grazing by the side of the
trail where he’d left it. Picking up his weapons belt from the
dirt, he buckled it back on and climbed into the saddle. He rode
away without another look back, although two hundred pairs of eyes
watched his departure—many of which were filled with unshed
tears.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Revenge

Yulen felt rather than heard the presence
come up behind him. Sighing deeply, he bent his head over his
tankard and opened his eyes. “If I’d wanted company, I would have
gone downstairs.”

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to come
out of this hole you’re digging,” MaGrath told him.

“It’s my hole. If you want one, you can dig
it yourself.” He took another swallow of beer, but the liquid
suddenly tasted bitter on his tongue. Yulen grimaced.

“I would appreciate it if you would turn
around and face me. I need to speak with you about an important
matter,” the physician insisted. A note of irritability was evident
in his words, but it didn’t seem to phase the man seated by the
window, gazing out over the compound.