A Battle Lord’s Heart (17 page)

           
Mastin agreed. They would be able to
create a reasonably safe sanctuary with the abutment at their backs. It was the
best they could do under the circumstances. He called for the men to set up
camp, and the soldiers wearily dismounted to follow orders.

           
With only a quick breakfast and no
lunch to sustain them, the men were already being pushed to their physical
limits, not to mention their emotional limits as well. Yet they knew they were
heading into something infinitely more dangerous than they could ever imagine.

           
They had no doubt that their Battle
Lord was still alive. And with Atty’s proclamation that nearly another hundred
of their fellow soldiers, friends, and kinsmen alike were also alive, it was
more than enough to keep them going for as long as they needed to.

           
Fortune managed to snag a fox, which
he cleaned and cooked over the open flames of their small fire in front of the
cave. MaGrath had taken up residence with Atty, and the Mutah hunter and Renken
had assumed positions right outside the cave entrance. As the meat dripped fat
into the fire, the two men glanced up when the doctor and the Battle Lady
joined them.

           
“How do you feel?” Renken inquired.

           
Atty tucked a stray strand of hair
over her ear. Her fingers encountered air, and for a second she paused in
surprise before she remembered she’d shorn off her locks. “Drained.”

           
“How’s the baby?” Fortune asked.

           
“Active. Unrelenting. Tory owes me a
big
apology.”

           
“Oh?” he chuckled. “Why?”

           
“She conveniently forgot to let me
in on this part of being pregnant. Not only do I have to be uncomfortable, but
I have to be a human punching bag, too.”

           
It seemed the air around them grew
cooler, cleaner. Fresher. This was the old Atty. Their sassy, feisty Atty. She
was completely in control of herself, and her spirit was quickly rising back to
the surface. It was enough to give them all hope.

           
“Atty. Tell them what you just told
me,” MaGrath urged.

           
Taking a deep breath, she glanced
around to see where a large majority of the soldiers had gathered around to
hear her. Those left on the fringes were posted on guard duty, but knew they
would be given the specifics when she was done.

           
“Yulen is alive,
but seriously injured.” She clasped her hands in front of her and hunched as
far over as she could with her rounded belly. “The reason I couldn’t sense him
before was because he was unconscious.” She hesitated, searching for her next words.
“There had to have been nearly a thousand Bloods descending on Bearinger. It
was hard to get a more exact number in the darkness, but the troops managed to
decimate a goodly number of them. There’s barely a little over three hundred of
them left, and most of them, if not all, have some sort of injury.”

           
“Tell them about our men.”

           
She nodded slightly. “They’re being
given water, but nothing else. Like the Bloods, they’ve suffered. They’re hurt.
Bleeding. Many are suffering broken bones. Some are missing limbs. A few have
critical wounds. They’re being herded like cattle in ropes. By the end of the
day a couple will have fallen.” Atty paled, but managed to continue. “Those
fallen are eaten.”

           
Several men swore softly at the
news.

           
“And the Battle Lord?” Del Ray
inquired.

           
Her reaction was immediate. A cloak
of despair appeared to drop over her face and shoulders, and Atty lowered her
face for a minute in order to compose herself.

           
“They know he’s the Battle Lord,”
she told them in a barely audible voice. A shudder ran through her. “The Bloods
are keeping him separated from the rest because they’re afraid he would rally
the men to attack.
 
They—” She flinched
as if she’d been slapped. “They torture him in front of the men, hoping to
destroy him and the men’s spirits. They’re venting their anger and hostility on
Yulen but they’re keeping him alive. They don’t want him dead. Not yet. They
want him alive as long as one soldier remains on his feet. But when the last of
our troops are gone, then they’ll kill him outright.”

           
She raised her hands to bury her
fingers in her short hair. “He’s trying...so hard...not to have me know the
extent of his agony and pain, but he can’t hide it all from me.” Lifting her
face, her eyes had turned a dark, smoky gray from what she’d seen. From what
she’d learned.

           
“Does he know we’re here? That we’re
coming after them?” Mastin softly questioned her. “Have you told him?”

           
Atty nodded slowly. “He knows, but
he’s not letting the men know. He’s afraid they’ll let it slip, and that’ll
force the Bloods to backtrack. As long as he remains mute, we’ll be able to get
close enough to formulate an attack strategy.” Looking directly at Mastin, she
added, “He’s counting on you.”

           
The Second gulped audibly. “Tell him
we’ll be able to handle it.”

           
“Are you
mad?
”
 
Fortune exclaimed, startling them with his
outburst. “There’s more than three hundred of them! We’re barely a third of
that.”

           
“But we’re a healthy, fully-trained
battalion, and we have the element of surprise,” Renken informed him. “In
addition, there’s nearly a hundred of our troops in their possession. Right now
the Bloods believe they’re in the clear after razing Bearinger. They have the
Battle Lord in their midst, and they’re set for food for the winter. Plus, a
large majority of them are still suffering from the wounds they received in
this last battle.”

           
“As are the men they’re holding
hostage,” Fortune was quick to remind him.

           
“True,” Mastin stepped in. “But our
men are trained. Honed by the Battle Lord’s training sequences to be as keen as
the edge of a sword. When the time comes for us to descend on them, once the
hostages see us and realize what we’re doing, they’ll grab anything they can
get their hands on to fight. Or, if they can’t find a suitable weapon, they’ll
use their bare hands.”

           
Renken glanced down to see that Atty
had touched very little of her meal. He opened his mouth to admonish her lack
of appetite but she beat him to it. “I know I should eat more,” she tearfully
said, “but I don’t feel hungry.”

           
“You’ve hardly eaten anything all
day. Would you like it if I put a little jam on that bread to make it more
palatable?”

           
Atty gave him a surprised yet
curious stare. Giving her one of his slow grins, Renken got to his feet and
went to fetch the small jar of blueberry jam he had hidden in his saddlebag.
Handing it to her, he admitted, “You’re not the only one with a sweet tooth.”

           
She stared at the jar before opening
it. “Berta will have your hide when she finds out she’s missing a jar of her
best preserves from her pantry.”

           
“Actually, she’s missing three.”

           
Their eyes locked for a second.
Suddenly Atty started giggling and gave him a shove with her arm and elbow.
Renken glanced up to see three men giving him identical astonished looks. But
it was the intense gratitude evident on their faces that gave him that feeling
of accomplishment.
     

           
He belonged now. Not completely. Not
just yet. However there would no longer be any doubt in anyone’s mind where his
loyalties lay.

Chapter
Twelve

Deepest
Love

           
It was her soft whimper that
awakened MaGrath from sound sleep. Aching from sore, overused muscles, the
physician wearily rolled over in his sleeping bag to find Atty slowly writhing
in her sleep. Her face was contorted; her breathing was becoming shallower and
more rapid.

           
No
, he quickly corrected
himself as he rose to a sitting position.
Something’s happening
.

           
Her bedroll lay next to his in the
small, cramped confines of the shallow cave. After they had eaten, she had
quickly fallen asleep, exhausted beyond measure from the day’s events.

           
Watching her, MaGrath tried to see
what would be causing her to act in such a manner. Perspiration beaded on her
face and neck, yet the night was cold in anticipation of the coming storm.

           
Throwing back the corner of the
bedroll, he checked on the baby, but there was nothing there to alarm him.
Then
why is she acting like this?
he questioned himself as he felt his alarm
rising
. She’s acting as if she’s in great pain.

           
His eyes widened into disbelieving
pools of shock as another possibility came to him.
 

           
Or making love.

           
The physician continued to stare
down at her, unsure as to what to do, but frightened by what doing nothing
might entail. Leaning over to whisper in her ear, he called her by name. A
quick glance over his shoulder reassured him no one else was aware of her
behavior. He called to her again.

           
Slowly her eyes opened. In the
distant glow of the fire, he could see her eyes were swimming in tears. And
torment.

           
“Liam!” Her lips formed his name,
but so softly he couldn’t hear her. He bent his ear closer. “Liam...he’s...he’s
in such agony!”

           
“What’s happening, Atty?”

           
She arched her back. Her arms came
up, stopping in midair, and she spread her fingers.

           
“They...they tortured him.” Her
voice wavered as the tears slipped down the side of her face. She closed her
eyes again and gasped softly as her whole body lifted off the ground.

           
As a protective measure, MaGrath
lifted the edges of the blanket that had been covering her before she’d kicked
it off, and draped it back over her, hoping to shield her from any prying eyes
in case someone should come into the cave. Patiently, he waited for her to
continue.

           
“Liam.”

           
“I’m here, Atty. What’s wrong?”

           
Her eyes were unfocused, her sight
straining over the distance separating her from Yulen. “He nearly went insane
from the pain,” she gasped. “He’s...he’s crying. Oh, God, Yuuulll!”
 
Somehow she managed to keep her cries
silent, afraid to awaken anyone else to this private moment.

           
“Liam?”

           
“Yes, Atty.” To his surprise, warm
tears coursed down his face. He wiped them away with a swipe of his arm.

           
“You have to help us.”

           
MaGrath started to assure her he
would do everything in his power to help, when her face went slack. Her vision and
her sight turned suddenly inward. “Come to me, my love,” she whispered. “Come.
Take me. Lose yourself in me.”

           
She inhaled slowly, languidly, and
her arms tenderly wrapped around an imaginary body.

           
No, not imaginary, MaGrath realized.
She was embracing Yulen’s spirit. His essence. The man was seeking solace from
his living nightmare in the only way he could. He was reaching for Atty,
pleading for her warmth and love and strength, and she was bringing him into
her. Giving herself to him through that connection that bound them through
their deep love.

           
Atty writhed again. She spread her
legs, lifting her knees for her husband. Her hands moved independently of each
other. MaGrath watched in fascination as one hand trailed down an invisible
back, over a narrow waist, to hips and the curve of the man’s buttocks where
her fingers came to rest just above her pelvis. As there was no real weight to
press against their son in her belly, Atty felt no discomfort.

           
Her other hand trailed upward,
across his wide shoulders, along his neck and throat, until she reached his
amber-red hair. Fingers clutched the air just as her fingers would have
entangled themselves in the real thing. She turned her head, exposing the moist
column of her throat, and she bit down on her lips to stifle the deep groan
coming from within her.

           
However, it wasn’t enough, and a
head poked into the cave. “Doc? Is she okay?”

           
Holding out his hand behind him,
palm outward, toward the man, MaGrath reassured him. “She was having a
nightmare,” he told Renken. “I just gave her something to calm her down. Go
back to sleep.”

           
Not waiting to hear the man’s
answer, the physician turned his attention back to the woman before him who was
clearly in the throes of a bout of slow, sensuous lovemaking. He listened in
silence as she continued to talk to her husband through their connection,
reassuring him. Comforting him.