A Battle Lord’s Heart (20 page)

           
“Maybe a couple of hours,” he
estimated.

           
The physician nodded and bent over
his task.

           
Renken watched the doctor carefully
work as he examined the extent of D’Jacques’ destruction. He knew very little
about medicine. Even less about the inner workings of the body. Yes, he could
sew up a wound or set a broken bone, but other than that he was as ignorant as
was possible.

           
However, he also knew how close this
man was to death simply by looking at him. The Bloods had done their worse to
him, yet somehow the Battle Lord was managing to cling to life. Renken’s eyes
went to the woman lying beside him, cradling him against her breasts, sharing
her body heat the same way she’d shared her body and her love last night.
Undeniably, she was the reason why the man continued to fight for every breath
and every heartbeat.

           
“Atty. Atty.” MaGrath shook his
head. “Oh, God, there’s so much damage.”

           
“You’ll save him,” she stated
convincingly. “We just know it. He has faith in you, and so do I.”

           
The physician glanced up at her.
“When did he tell you that?”

           
She licked her lips. “Just now,” she
confessed.

           
“You’re in touch with him? He’s
aware?”

           
“Uh-huh.”

           
“Sweet Jesus.”

           
They moved as quickly as they could
through the forest. This part of their journey hadn’t been made easier with the
earlier passing of four hundred pairs of feet. Mastin had a dozen men stationed
in front of the wagon, hacking away at the growth with their swords, clearing a
way for them. Fortune promised a trail would be showing up pretty soon as they
forged ahead.

           
A mile passed. And another. One hour
merged into its twin.

           
Then, suddenly, they were on a road.
It was overgrown with dead weeds and rutted, but a trail nonetheless. Fortune
turned the wagon and urged the little bay mare to go faster. The army increased
its speed, now that they were in the open.

           
The road dipped and curved, almost
aimless in its meanderings, finally rounding an outcropping of shale and
limestone.

           
And there it was.
 

           
Fortune pulled up and waited for
Mastin to halt the troops behind them.
 
“What now, Atty?”

           
“Advance slowly.” She gazed up at
Mastin riding along her side of the wagon. “I’ll talk to them, but we can’t
hide anything. They need to see all of us, understand? No surprises.” At his
nod, she tenderly lay Yulen’s head on her pillow and got to her knees. She
seemed oblivious to the wide patches of blood staining her shirt and pants.

           
Within seconds the challenge went
out.
 
“Ho! Strangers! Identify!”

           
Stopping the wagon, Fortune got out
to help Atty out of the back. Leaving her weapons behind, she advanced
confidently. Once she had placed adequate distance between herself and the
troops, she called out, “West Crestin! My name is Atrilan D’Jacques! Of the
compound Alta Novis! I am Mutah!”

           
Silence.

           
A minute passed, stretching into
two.

           
“Ho! Strangers! State your
business!”

           
“We survived an attacking Blood
army! My husband and his troops need medical assistance immediately!”

           
“Your troops are Normals!”

           
Turning on her heel, Atty stalked
back to the wagon, reached underneath the planking running behind the
buckboard, and drew out Yulen’s sword. She heard gasps from the rescued men and
remembered the last time many of them had seen his weapon had been during the
massacre at Bearinger. Walking back to where she’d previously stood, she raised
the weapon over her head, hilt-up, in the sign of peace. “I seek the Three Laws
of Equality!”

           
This time a different voice called
out to her. “State your name again!”

           
“Atrilan D’Jacques!”

           
“Of Alta Novis?”

           
“Yes.” Inspiration hit, and she
added, “The last time I was here, though, I was Atty Ferran from Wallis. Does
that make a difference?”

           
Silence was her answer.

           
The wind blew stronger, bringing
larger flakes with it. The sun had gone down, and it was growing almost too
dark to see the walls of the compound, much less the sentries posted at the
top.

           
A small door suddenly opened in the
wall, and a man dressed in a full-length fur coat approached her. He carried
only a lantern. Seeing he was unarmed, Atty dropped the sword. She didn’t
recognize the man who stopped mere feet away. He peered closely at her and her
blood-soaked clothing, finally raising the lantern closer to her face. “You are
Atrilan D’Jacques of Alta Novis?”

           
“Yes. My husband is Yulen D’Jacques.
He is that compound’s Battle Lord. He had gone to defend Bearinger from the
Bloods, but they overran the com—”

           
“You are from Wallis?”

           
Atty paused. “Yes.”

           
“You are the Mutah huntress warrior
married to the Normal battle warrior, who forged a treaty with Wallis?”

           
“Yes.”

           
He turned his head and glanced past
her at the men standing silently in the gathering shadows. It was then Atty
could see the ridge of quills running down the back of the man’s neck.

           
“How many of you are there?”

           
“Two hundred. Half need immediate
medical help, including my husband. We all need refuge from this blizzard.”

           
He looked back at her. “Only Mutah know
of the Three Laws of Equality. Do I have your word your men will not seek to
harm us?”

           
“My word,” she promised.

           
“Very well.” Glancing upward, the
man swung the lantern five times. Almost immediately the huge double doors
began to swing outward.

           
“Thank you,” she said.

           
The man motioned toward her
distended belly. “The Three Laws will apply the moment you set foot inside.”
Having done his job, he disappeared back through the little door in the wall.

           
Atty quickly picked up the sword and
hurried back to the wagon. Fortune helped her up.

           
“What’s the Three Laws of Equality?”
MaGrath asked.

           
“I’ll tell you later. Cole!”

           
“Yes?”

           
“Tell the men this is a Mutah
compound. I’ve given my word no one will be injured or harmed, but that applies
to both sides. Should any of us harm someone in the compound, I will be the one
punished. Let them know that.”

           
“I think they already know,” MaGrath
drily said.

           
Fortune urged the wagon forward. The
troops formed in ranks of three, and they entered the compound of West Crestin
that, a year ago, only two of them had even known existed.

Chapter
Fifteen

Sanctuary
Found

           
Paxton was standing outside the
small apartment when Mastin walked up. The Second took in the Lieutenant’s
bandages and the way the man’s shoulders drooped. Paxton had been through hell
and back. It was a badge of honor the man would forever wear, and one that
Mastin would never envy.

           
“How are you doing, Warren?”

           
The man nodded. A darkness still
crept around his eyes. Nightmares would continue to haunt him for God knew how
long. But he was free. And alive. He had everything to be thankful for, and it
all centered upon the small figure waiting for them inside.

           
“Better than some.” Reaching out, he
grasped his superior by the upper arm. The two men had always been close
friends ever since they were young boys going to school together. And had
entered the academy together to become part of the Battle Lord’s troops. The
gesture was second nature. “Thanks, Cole.”

           
Mastin nodded toward the door. “Have
you been in yet?”

           
“No. I was waiting for you.”

           
“Any word on D’Jacques?”

           
This time Paxton shook his head in
answer. Taking a deep breath, Mastin knocked twice on the wooden door, then
opened it.

           
The tiny living room held only a single
straight-back chair and two stools, all of which were parked in a semi-circle
in front of the blazing fireplace.
 
Atty
was sitting on one of the stools in a way where she could see anyone entering
the apartment. She never moved or made any gesture to show she was aware of the
two soldiers as they entered the apartment and came to a halt across from her.
A long moment went by. Then she softly said, “Have a seat.”

           
Gratefully the two men took the
other two seats. Mastin opted for the stool before the Lieutenant could object.
Normally the subordinate would bow to his superior and allow the man the chair.
But this time Paxton understood why he was given the straight-back. He tried to
muffle the low groan as he sat. Mastin’s veiled glance mirrored the man’s pain.

           
Atty remained staring at the flames
dancing across the logs in the fireplace. The apartment was small, even for
Mutah standards, but she had insisted on the simple two bedroom dwelling. With
Yulen ensconced in the infirmary, she didn’t have need for anything big and
fancy, despite the Elders’ urging to take an apartment more suited for someone
of her stature.

           
But Atty had held firm as she
thanked the Council for their offer. MaGrath would be spending the majority of
his time caring for the Battle Lord. She would also be spending as much time as
she could over at the clinic.
 
All she
and the doctor needed was a place to sleep and refresh themselves.

           
It was evident that in the short few
hours since their arrival Atty had not taken the time to see to her own
comfort. Her tunic and cloak were still smeared with Yulen’s blood. The slender
hands lying limp in her lap were also coated with gore. A patch of dried blood
edged her left cheek and jaw where she had obviously brushed back her hair.

           
The bulge of her belly was
pronounced in the flickering light. From the way she was sitting it was clear
she was uncomfortable but too exhausted to get up and go into the bedroom to
lie down. She had just come in from the clinic a few minutes ago and had sought
the warmth of the fire first thing.

           
When she finally lifted her face
toward them, they were surprised by the sadness in her eyes. Immediately Mastin
grew alarmed.

           
“Yulen...”

           
Atty sighed loudly. “He will live,
but his wounds are severe. Liam thought they might be too great to survive, but
I won’t let Yulen leave me.” She shook her head slowly. “I won’t let him. Not
now. Not yet.” Her gaze took in Paxton’s appearance. “How are you faring,
Warren?”

           
“Physically I’ll be one hundred
percent within a few days.” Somehow he managed a weak grin. “The mental part,
ehhh, that may take longer.”

           
She snorted softly and gave him a
warm smile, then turned to the Second. “Are the men taken care of?”

           
“Yes. There’s about a dozen of them
who’ll need to stay abed for a few days. But for the most part they were
lucky.”

           
“Damn lucky,” Paxton added.

           
“That’s because you’ve been trained
well,” she complimented them. “Those two weeks every year that Yulen takes you
into the woods to track and hunt and struggle to survive has paid off. So don’t
ever let me hear the men bitch about the sabbatical again.” One corner of her
mouth lifted. “At least, not without a smile on their faces.”

           
She ran a blood-stained hand through
her closely cropped hair. “God, I’m tired.”

           
“Have you eaten anything?” Mastin
inquired.

           
“Yeah. A couple of bites. I’m too
nauseous for anything heavy. I don’t know if my stomach’s upset because of the
baby, or because of the circumstances we’re in.” Atty stretched her legs out
toward the fire.

           
They watched the fire lap at the
logs until Atty softly said, “Do you know why I called you here?” When she
didn’t get an answer, she looked up to see the two men studying her. “Last
night I claimed the right to the Three Laws of Equality. Do you know what those
are?” When she got blank looks from the soldiers, she gave a little chuckle and
turned her attention back to the fireplace. “No. Of course not. You wouldn’t
because you’re not Mutah. The Three Laws are quite simple. When a man or woman,
a Mutah, seeks help from another compound, he is able to guarantee his entry
into the compound by calling for and adhering to those laws.” Wiping her nose
with the cuff of her tunic, Atty continued. “Food, shelter, and aid. That’s
all.”