A Battle Lord’s Heart (22 page)

           
“A wounded Blood we didn’t know was
still around grabbed Atty, but she managed to kill it by swinging your sword
and planting the damn thing in its head. But, between the attack and the belief
you were gone, Atty went into shock. I had to dose her to calm her down while
we searched for enough body parts to identify you. We found your armor and your
sword, and what was left of your horse, but nothing else.

           
“It was at that time Atty came
around and sensed you were still alive. She was connected to you, Yulen. She
directed us into the woods to rescue you and the rest of the men. Yeah, nearly
a hundred survivors,” MaGrath answered the unspoken question in the man’s
reddened eyes.

           
“Atty stayed in touch with you
through that connection. I’d never heard of such a thing before, but Fortune
told us stories of people in the past, about other Mutah who... I’m getting off
the story. Sorry.

           
“She could sense things you were
seeing, Yulen. Things you were feeling. The Bloods were herding the rest of
your men and you to be used as food to help them through the winter. They took special
delight in torturing you in front of your men. They meant to break your spirit
and keep the others cowed. Damn near worked, too, except for one very special,
very unique attribute they never suspected.”

           
“Atty.” Yulen’s voice was soft, the
two syllables caressed.

           
MaGrath shook his head. “Not so much
Atty, but the love between you two. Yulen, without that love, Atty wouldn’t
have been able to keep track of you, or show us how to get to you. That snake
face you said you see in your dreams? That was the Blood who tortured you.”

           
“What happened to the thing?”

           
The man shrugged. “Vulture poop by
now, more than likely. Atty marked him for personal execution. From the story
Renken told me, what she did to that thing made Karv’s death look like target
practice.”

           
He paused to let this much sink in,
closely watching Yulen’s face for any sign of emotional trauma. The man closed
his eyes and took several deep breaths. Presently he opened his eyes, and
MaGrath was relieved to see them clear and free of demons for the moment.

           
“Mastin led the attack after Paxton
and Atty freed you.”

           
Yulen suddenly stuck an index finger
in the air. MaGrath paused for his query.

           
“Renken? Who’s Renken?”

           
“The ex-mercenary.”

           
Yulen blinked as he recalled the man.
Nodding, the physician added, “The man’s been invaluable. He’s earned Atty’s
trust. Mine as well.”

           
Sniffing, the Battle Lord said, “Go
on.”

           
“It started snowing. Hard. You were
dying. The nearest compound around that
I
knew of was Alta Novis, but
she was a good week, if not further, away. But Fortune and Atty knew this place
existed, and it was close. Real close by. A couple of hours, thank God. If you
would have had to have been carried any further without proper medical
attention...” MaGrath’s voice trailed off. Rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, he
continued.

           
“You did die, Yulen. But for the
miracle of Mutah medicine and that damn connection you and Atty have, you
wouldn’t be here now. She brought you back. She fought for you,
and...dammit...they’re still talking about it around the compound.”

           
“How long have I been here, Liam?”

           
The physician thought. “A little
over two months now.”

           
“Two
months?
What day is
this?”

           
“The sixth. Of March.”

           
It was a while before Yulen could
fully grasp the reality of the moment.

           
“We couldn’t move you. You were
critically injured, Yulen.
 
Besides,
Mother Nature’s been pretty uncooperative. We were socked in by that blizzard
for almost five weeks. It’s been snowing on and off since then.”

           
“How have the men been getting along
with the inhabitants?”

           
“Very well. Better than that,
actually. A small group of our soldiers have been unofficially adopted by this
compound’s hunter caste. They’ve been helping with keeping the compound in meat
while we’ve been here. And I know of at least two men who’ve found sweethearts
here.”

           
That last remark brought a weary
grin to the Battle Lord’s face.

           
The sound of creaking came to them.
MaGrath realized that was how Yulen knew he’d come into the clinic. The hinges
on the front door needed greasing.

           
A beloved figure padded slowly
through the doorway. She was wearing a full-length coat, but the increased
swelling of her belly was profoundly evident. Apparently she’d been awakened
from a nap. She was still yawning and rubbing her eyes.

           
She must have felt his coming to,
MaGrath told himself. He knew he would never scoff at anything told him
about Mutah any more. He had witnessed too much between these two lovers to
have any lingering doubts.
        

           
Yulen gazed at her in silence.
Emotions ran rampant over his face and reflected in his eyes. More than that,
his expression was infused with love. He wished he had the strength to hold out
his arms to her, but the last quarter hour talking with MaGrath had worn him
out.

           
The physician got up and moved away
from the bed as Atty stared, stunned, at her awakened husband.

           
“Hi, Atty-cake,” Yulen whispered
tenderly.

           
She moved like silk, despite her
bulkiness, rushing to the bed and reaching for him, reaching for his face,
reaching for his lips. Despite his weakness, his mouth burned hers, and Atty
found herself whimpering with joy to finally have him back. Her fingers slid up
the sides of his face and curled around two handfuls of red-gold hair.

           
MaGrath helped her into the bed,
next to him, so they could be together to talk. To kiss. To weep with joy and
stroke each other with healing caresses. To fall asleep in each other’s arms,
and awaken the same way.

           
As he unobtrusively snuck out of the
room, the last thing he heard was Yulen’s surprised exclamation, “What happened
to your hair?”

Chapter
Seventeen

Next
Time

           
It felt good to finally leave the
clinic on his own two feet. Of course, MaGrath had protested, bless his
over-protective heart, claiming it was too soon after coming out of his coma a few
weeks ago, but Yulen was damned if he would take audience in that patient bed.

           
Since his awakening, Atty had been
by his side unceasingly, taking her meals with him as she sometimes fed him.
Sleeping beside him. Cleaning and bathing him. Changing the dressings on his
wounds.

           
And they had talked. For hours they
would talk. Or she would talk and he would listen, paying more attention to the
emotion in her voice. Or just for the sake of hearing her voice glide over him
like a soft afternoon shadow, lulling him to sleep.

           
His men had requested to visit him,
but Yulen had refused. He did relent to see Mastin, however, who almost cried
like a baby when he’d been ushered in.
 

           
It was imperative he get well enough
so they could return to Alta Novis as soon as possible. Although Yulen knew
he’d been away from the compound for longer periods of time, especially in the
pre-Atty years when he’d led his men on their annual cleaning sweeps, this time
was different.

           
MaGrath often spent long chunks of
time with them in the clinic to talk. He enjoyed teasing the couple about their
celebrity status. Apparently word had been spreading far and wide about the
Normal Battle Lord and his Mutah Lady, especially with regards to Yulen’s
unconventional knack of forming treaties between compounds. The night they had
approached West Crestin, seeking sanctuary and help after defeating the Blood
army, the head of the Council of Elders who’d personally ventured outside the
walls to confront Atty had been unable to accept the fact of who they were, in
spite of Atty’s claims. It wasn’t until everyone had gotten a good look at the
dying man, and a better look at Atty, that they had believed. Now the Council
was wanting a formal audience with him. Had been for the past several days. For
what purpose, Yulen still had no clue.

           
Tying his bootlace into a bow, he
took his foot off the stool and straightened up. His sword lay waiting for him
on the rumpled bed. He’d lost his weapons belt and scabbard in the Massacre at
Bearinger, as the men referred to the confrontation now. Atty was returning
soon to bring him a new one she’d had made for him by one of the compound’s
leather workers.

           
Smiling, Yulen glanced down at the
thin sheath tucked inside his boot. Atty had convinced him to keep his dagger
hidden and separate from his sword. In case an enemy managed to get to his
weapons belt again, he now had an extra weapon at the ready. It felt awkward
having the blade there at first, but she assured him he’d soon get used to it.

           
He slid the leaf-like blade out of
his boot and ran a thumb over the tiny nick near the base of the handle. Atty
had explained that was where her arrow had struck it when the Blood had thrown
it at her. The Blood who had used Yulen’s own dagger to carve into his flesh.
The Blood who’d had his brains sprayed across the clearing from one of Atty’s
arrows.

           
The dagger would stay as it was.
Yulen had no intention of having the nick polished out of it.

           
Sliding the dagger back into his
boot, he straightened up as the front door to the clinic creaked open and
close. Atty walked in a moment later, not stopping until she walked right into
his arms, lifting her face for his kiss.

           
With her second trimester past them,
so were the dizzy, lust-filled days of pheromone poisoning. She was beginning
to feel uncomfortable and cranky with the approaching birth, just as he was
slowly regaining his strength. It would be some months before either of them
would be able to fall into the sheets again for hours of carefree, sweaty sex.
Right now, however, it didn’t matter.

           
“Well? How does it feel to be back
in clothes again?” she smiled as he finally lifted his mouth from hers.

           
“Good, actually.”

           
“Are you really up to this, my love?
I mean, the Council can wait another few days.”

           
“I’ll be fine,” he promised. “So,
did you bring me a present?” He’d already seen the new weapons belt and
scabbard when she’d thrown her arms around him.

           
She handed it over, giving him a
moment to examine the workmanship. He was surprised to discover the beadwork on
both sides of the buckle, small flags in half-red, half-blue. Quickly, he
buckled it on, settling it around his hips as Atty handed him his sword. The
blade slid into its new home like satin on glass.

           
“Ready, beloved?” he asked, tilting
her chin up for one last kiss.

           
“Right beside you.”
      

           
The weather had been clear for the
past two days. Today was no exception. The sun shone brightly in the cloudless
sky, reflecting off the patches of snow in the compound with a brilliance that
bordered on blinding.

           
Yulen and Atty emerged from the
clinic into a scene that widened their eyes in astonishment. It seemed the
whole of the compound was waiting for the couple. A path had been cleared from
the clinic to the courtyard where the Council had set up chairs and a table for
their meeting. Yulen gave his wife a reproachful look. “Did you know about
this?” he asked in a halfway serious voice.

           
“Swear, Yulen. They weren’t here
when I came back.”

           
Smiling down at her, he took her
hand, and they started for the courtyard.

           
The crowd stared at them in silence,
bringing back a comment that MaGrath had thrown out one afternoon.
You two
have made a name for yourselves. Sweet heavens, there are stories and songs
about you from Far Troit to Port Destiny. And that’s just the Normal compounds!

           
As this was Yulen’s first excursion
outside since his convalescence, he took the time to greet each of his men who
was waiting for him on the sidelines. At one point the Battle Lord’s eye caught
sight of a tall, rough-looking man standing to one side. Instinct made him
pause and give him a solid look.

           
“Renken?”

           
The ex-mercenary blinked. He hadn’t
expected D’Jacques to single him out. Hell, the man hadn’t had a personal
encounter with him since the first day he’d arrived at Alta Novis.