A Battle Lord’s Heart (24 page)
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Authors: A Battle Lord's Heart
Yulen flashed him an instantly
heated glare. Hearing MaGrath’s chuckle, the Battle Lord knew he’d deliberately
been chastised to help him get re-centered. “Damn you, Liam.”
“I need you sober, Yulen. We’re on
borrowed time here.”
Before he could say more, the door
to the clinic squeaked. Almost at the same time, Click Torbeth, the compound’s
doctor, pounded into the room. His eyes widened to see the flow of blood coming
from the woman lying unconscious on the table. “When did you say she was due?”
He kicked the door shut behind him and hurried to wash up over at the basin.
“End of May or early June. She’s
needing to be put under. I don’t want to cut on her until I know she won’t be
waking up from the pain.”
“
What?
” Hearing that MaGrath
would be slicing her open, Yulen placed himself between the man and his wife.
MaGrath eyed him cooly.
“She’s hemorrhaging. Unless we stop
it now, she’ll bleed to death. Now, get out of my way, and then I’ll explain
more. Click? What can we use on her?”
“I’ll have to use the ether,” the
man replied, already pulling a mask and a small vial of liquid from a nearby
cabinet. Placing the fabric over Atty’s nose and mouth, he proceeded to
administer the agent.
“Yulen, are you going to help me or
not?” MaGrath’s heated question stung as he painted Atty’s belly with alcohol.
“What can I do?”
“Have you washed up? Tie down her
arms and legs.”
He quickly obeyed, lashing her to
the rings embedded on the undersides of the table with strips of soft cotton
Click handed over to him. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest as he
fought the fear that wanted to choke him.
Atty never moved. Her skin had taken
on a sickly gray pallor as blood continued to pour out of her. Several drops
fell to the floor, right where they would have to walk on them.
“You might want to turn away, son,”
MaGrath softly whispered, but his command made Yulen want to observe all the
more.
The scalpel slid into her lower
abdomen, cutting a slit seven to eight inches long, coming to rest right above
her soft nest of deep blue curls. Yulen shuddered involuntarily, eliciting a
quick look from MaGrath, but he refused to yield.
Grabbing another tool from the
linen-covered tray, MaGrath inserted it into the slit and slowly, carefully,
spread the flesh apart. There, mere millimeters beneath the skin, a thin,
pinkish sac vibrated in the light.
“Yulen, get a clean, folded
blanket.”
There was a stack on a stool by the
door.
Yulen snatched one and stepped
back to the table as MaGrath dipped his hand inside the womb and withdrew the
tiny body from within.
“He’s a fighter. That’s good,” the
physician said, struggling to keep his hold on the slick sac.
He lifted out the fetus, membrane
and all, and laid it on the unwrapped blanket in Yulen’s arms. Before the
Battle Lord could comprehend what he was doing, MaGrath ripped open the sac,
releasing a watery substance that cascaded over Yulen’s arms and shirt, and dripped
down his legs. A flick of the scalpel, and the umbilical was severed as Yulen
stared at the still form. Finally, the doctor turned the baby onto its stomach
and began lightly slapping the infant’s back and buttocks.
“Rub him like this,” the man instructed,
bringing one of Yulen’s hands out from under the blanket. “Atty needs me.”
The Battle Lord massaged the
incredibly little back, lifting the edge of the blanket and using it to rub
circulation into the skin, hoping the rough material would help.
“Come on. Cry for me. Get that crap
out of your lungs. Come on. Show me those lungs are ready. Let Grandpapa Liam
hear that famous D’Jacques cry,” MaGrath said, glancing up at Yulen’s
ministrations.
There was a minuscule coughing
sound, and then two small lungs filled with air. A distinctly loud wail of
protest filled the room, and MaGrath lifted a tear-stained face to the new
father.
“Atty’s never let you down. You have
a son, Yulen. There’s a suction bulb in that corner drawer. Use it to suction out
the last of amniotic fluid from his lungs and nose. Click, how’s she doing?”
“Hurry, Liam.”
Drawing his son to his chest, Yulen
quickly found the bulb and used it to clear the tiny infant’s airways. At the
same time, his eyes shunted between the bit of life in his arms, and the
motionless figure, as he emotionally seesawed from elation to worry and fear
for his love lying deathly pale on the examination table. The baby boy
wriggled, kicking out a foot, bringing a sad smile to the Battle Lord’s face as
he drew the edges of the blanket tight around the miniature frame to keep his
son warm.
“Liam, what caused the
hemorrhaging?”
“Hell if I know,” the man replied.
He had spread Atty’s abdomen wider, hoping to find the problem. His fingers
were probing her insides, searching for the source as he cleaned out the
afterbirth.
Yulen stepped backwards until his
backside bumped against another examination table. Frightened by the unexpected
jolt, his son open his mouth and let forth another long, quivering cry. His
tiny jaw trembled.
“For God’s sake, Yulen!
Hold him against you. He’s probably freezing
to death! Remember, he’s been inside Atty’s warm body.” MaGrath glanced up at
the Mutah doctor. “I think I’ve found it. I need a clamp.”
“Second drawer behind you.”
“Suturing thread?”
“Same.”
Yulen heard the physician mutter
something about a “fucking artery” as he slammed the drawer shut and bent back
over the woman.
“Sweet heavens, there’s so much
blood loss. Click?”
“Better start closing, Liam. If I
give her any more of this, she’ll go into shock.”
MaGrath started. “I think she
already is.”
All the blood drained from Yulen’s
face and pooled at his feet. An echo of something MaGrath had told him, what
seemed like ages ago, when they were in Wallis, came tumbling into his head.
For all we know, the idea of
becoming pregnant and having a baby is like a game of chance. Put the right
card on the table, and you live, but you lose the baby. Put another card on the
table, and you just might give birth, but the child dies soon after. Another
card, and the baby lives. But have the wrong card dealt to you...
He clutched his new son closer to
him as a cold, unrelenting sense of loss coated his skin like a pall. “Liam?”
he whispered shakily.
It was evident MaGrath was trying to
staunch the blood flow coming from the ruptured artery inside Atty’s abdomen.
“Liam?”
“Click! Help me out here. I’ve
almost got it tied off.”
“She’s lost too much blood, Liam,”
Click whispered. “She’s going into shock.”
“
I’m not going to let her go so
easily!
” MaGrath suddenly yelled. “Not without a fight!” He took a deep,
frightened breath. “Help me, Click!”
The room grew hazy, filled with
diamond-shaped patterns of light until Yulen blinked the tears away. The two
men continued to labor over her, trying to save Atty’s life, trying to preserve
the body that contained such a rare and beautiful spirit. He felt like he was
slowly sinking. It was a feeling that continued to spread through him with
black tendrils. Instinctively, he clutched his son more firmly against his
chest.
He slowly walked over the table,
near her head, and gazed down at the way her skin had taken on a porcelain hue.
Her thick, dark blue lashes fanned out on her cheeks, the same way they did
when she was asleep. Kneeling down, Yulen leaned over to the table, brushing
away her shoulder-length hair until he bared one small, perfect ear.
“Atrilan? I-I know you’re in there.
I can still feel you, but you seem to be getting fainter. Atrilan, I’m jealous.
And I’m greedy. I want more, my love. I want to spend all of my life with you.
Together, the both of us, for years to come.
You gave me a son, like you promised. Thank you, my only love.”
He pressed his forehead to her hair and
fought to collect himself. More tears rolled down his face, but he ignored
them. “Atrilan. Don’t go away. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave your son. Our son.
W—... we made this baby. Together. You and me. We made love, and from it we
made a baby.
He needs you, almost as
much as I do. He needs to learn from you. I want him to learn from you. Your
skill, your compassion, your sassiness, and your love. He needs you, but I need
you more.”
“Yulen?” MaGrath’s voice permeated
the blackness in his mind. Yulen managed to swivel his head around to look down
the table at the doctors. “Can you still sense her?” the physician asked. They
were sewing her up now. At least, MaGrath was. The Mutah doctor was pouring
something into her mouth, stroking her throat until her muscular contractions
made her automatically swallow. But in spite of their ministrations, that
sinking feeling inside him continued to grow colder and thicker.
“She’s going away,” Yulen whispered.
His tongue felt thick. Something was clogging his throat, nearly suffocating
him with its sourness. Heat flared in his face as more tears coursed over his
cheeks.
“Keep talking to her, son. Give her
something to focus on. You know she doesn’t want to leave you, but you have to
help her fight.”
Yulen took a deep breath. “Atrilan.
My incredible Atrilan. I...I remember...things. Scenes. Bits and pieces of what
may or may not have happened while we were apart. Words that were never spoken.
I remember you telling me the first time you felt our son moving inside you, but
I was fighting the Bloods. I was miles away, days away from you, but I heard
you. I heard you inside my head and inside my heart. I-I don’t know what
connects us, my beloved, but if there’s any way I can give you what strength I
have...if I can reach out to you, and hold on to you, and keep you from moving
farther away from me, I’ve got to try.
You’ve
got to try. Atrilan.
There’s a specialness inside of you that makes you unlike anyone else who’s
ever lived, or ever will live. If you fight this, you will win. Aim for it,
just like you aim for your targets. Set your sights on me, on our love, and
run
for it. God damn it,
run back to me!”
Above him, Click jerked off the
fabric mask covering her nose and mouth, and lifted her head to forcibly pour another
concoction down her throat. He stroked her esophagus until the involuntary
reaction took over, and she swallowed it.
MaGrath threw another blanket over
her chilled skin, and began to vigorously rub the fabric across her nude body.
Throwing Yulen a desperate look, he said, “We lost you once because of blood
loss, but Atty brought you back. It’s time you returned the favor.”
“What do you need me to do?” He saw
Click checking her heart beat and breathing. Both were excruciatingly slow.
“Stop talking to her and see if you
can’t make that connection work for you.”
Click looked up. “What do you mean?
He can’t do that. He’s a Normal, Liam.”
“I’ve seen him do it before!”
MaGrath argued tightly. He glanced at Yulen, at the confused question in the
man’s eyes, and whispered, “In the cave. In the forests outside Bearinger. They
had tortured you, Yulen. You were crying. You were broken, hurting, and
ashamed. You sought out Atty, and she drew you into her. You sought solace in
her body. In her heart. In her love. Through your connection, you made love to
her as she healed you. She soothed you and comforted you. The connection
does
work both ways for you two, Yulen! So
go get her
.”
Go get her.
For God’s sake, Yulen, go get her.
Memories of a miserably cold, dark,
and rain-soaked evening in a forest clearing came back to him. She had drawn a
bead on him, claiming she was heading west. Telling him not to follow her.
Begging him. He had told her he would never let her go. He had told her he
wanted to spend his life with her.
And then, later, they had confessed
their love to each other, once over a tub bath, and then later amid the
sweat-soaked sheets in the guest room bed at Foster City. She was still a
virgin, but Yulen had known even then he would become her first true lover.
That he would be her only lover. For the rest of their lives.
For God’s sake, Yulen, go get
her.
He sat on the floor and tucked his
sleeping son beneath his chin. The small figure, delicate and fragile, somehow
smelled of her. Closing his eyes, he reached into himself and waited. Searched.
Hoped.
She was still there, but she was at
the end of a cold, rain-soaked clearing. She didn’t have her longbow. She was
completely weaponless. He started to go to her, running through the wet, slick
leaves, not caring how much noise he made as he approached her.
She looked so incredibly beautiful
with her long, thick, morning glory-colored hair that was spread like a cape
over her shoulders and down her back. He could tell she was tired. Still in pain.
At every turn in the pregnancy, when they had expected the worse, only to have
no problems occur, they’d gotten slack. They had forgotten to follow her every
step of the way, and they had failed to keep her safe right up to the end.
They didn’t need to have any more
children. Their son would continue their legacy. All that mattered was Atty.
All he needed was to have her with him until they both drew their last breaths
together. Either in battle, or withered from age, it didn’t matter. Just as
long one didn’t leave the other behind. Because that is the way it would have
to end. The both of them, as one, closing the door on life with her hand firmly
entwined with his.
The rain was freezing. It was
dangerous to be in the woods after dark. He reached for her. But then, to his
horror, she turned her back to him and began to walk away to disappear into the
forest where he would never find her again unless she so wished it. She was too
far out of reach, and there was no way he would be able to get to her before
the trees swallowed her. Unless...
He held out his hand, fingers
spread.
“Noooo!
No Atrilan!
”
His scream awoke the baby in his
arms. Their son answered with a terrified, loud, wavering howl.
On the table above him, a
blood-smeared arm fell over the edge of the leather padding, to hang out above
the floor. Beneath the pale blue hairs covering the skin, Yulen saw a muscle
twitch.
He pulled himself up until he was
standing. The wounds in his stomach seared him, making him grit his teeth against
the pain. The infant settled against his father’s warmth, relaxing back to
sleep with his head nestled under Yulen’s chin, exactly the way Atty would
after they’d made love.
A soft sigh came out of her. Click
reached to prepare another drought.
Dropping the edges of the blanket,
MaGrath came around the table and checked her heart.
“We’re
not out of the woods yet,” he commented even while a glimmer of hope colored
his words. The man’s analogy was startling.
Yulen watched as Atty opened dazed
eyes. Lost and disoriented, it took a moment for her to finally settle on him.
“Yul?” she croaked almost inaudibly.
“Yes, my beloved.” He moved close
enough for her to see their baby.
She closed her eyes, then opened
them again. She swallowed drily. “Yul?”
“Right here, Atrilan.” He could see
her fighting to focus.
“The baby.”
“A healthy little boy. We have a
son, Atrilan.”
“Can we name him Mattox?”
For some reason, Yulen couldn’t help
but chuckle. “Very well. His name is Mattox.”
She smiled, closing her eyes as she
neared the edge of sleep. Yulen could feel its irresistible pull reaching for
her. A pull that was entirely different from the thick blackness that had tried
to suffocate him. The sickening fog was gone, leaving behind a clear and bright
emptiness. She was very, very weak, but she was damned and determined to have
him take her hand and lead her out of the rain-soaked clearing in the forest.
“Yul?”
He leaned over and kissed her
temple, tenderly nuzzling the soft hairline. He knew she felt it. A ghost of a
smile settled over her lips. “What, my only love?”
“Next time, can we have a girl?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he
whispered lovingly.
She sighed contentedly. A moment
later she slipped into a deep, healing rest, leaving her husband to take over
protecting their newborn son.
For the time being, her job was
done.