Every Battle Lord's Nightmare (22 page)

            “We
believe
she’s your sister,” Mastin hastened to correct her. “First, we need to verify it’s actually her.
Then
we can worry about how to get her back. Are you listening to me, Atty? If it’s really her, then we need to plan out our strategy to get her back. Otherwise Highcliff could have his soldiers breathing down our necks.”

            Leaning over, Atty buried her face in her hands and wept. Everything in her demanded that she run from this place and go search for her sister. Find her, bring her back here, and keep her safe until it was time to return to Alta Novis.

            Another thought came to her. She jerked her head up and looked at Paas. “Mohmee. Did Keelor say anything about our mother? Is she still alive, too? Is she here?”

            Paas shook her head. “I don’t know. She didn’t mentioned her. I’m so sorry, Atty. If I’d known she was your sister, I wouldn’t have left her there alone.”

            Atty managed to give the woman a watery smile. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t know. I’m very, very grateful you happened to meet her, then came to tell us about what you saw. You may have saved her life.” She took a shaky breath. “I owe you my thanks.”

            Thrasher stepped forward. “Let’s not thank anyone right now. Not until we know for sure this Keelor is your sister, Atty.”

            “I agree,” Mastin concurred. “But how can we do that without putting the girl at greater risk? And how can we get her away from that man?”

            A loud, thin, piercing wail sounded outside the tent. Its sound resonated in their skulls, and penetrated all the way to their bones.

            “What the hell?” Renken whispered, and hurried outside. The rest followed close behind as another sound filled the air. An awful scraping noise that shrieked and screamed, followed by a thunderous rumble. In the distance they could barely make out the figures of people running as the wail screeched again. It was Twoson who was the first to realize what was happening.

            “The gates! They’re closing the gates between the sections!” he hollered.

            His yell was punctuated by a solid
whump!
that reverberated in the air, followed by smaller clangs, and then silence. The compound had been placed in total shutdown mode. Everyone was locked into their sections until the time when orders would be given to reopen them.

            An indescribable sense of foreboding went through Atty, to where even the solid feel of her Ballock in her hand wasn’t enough to deter it.

Chapter Thirty

Invasion

            “What do we do now?” Paas softly asked.

            Around them, they could see other people emerging from their tents to stare at the huge gates which had been closed. The walls were close to thirty feet high, making it nearly impossible to scale.

            “What the fuck just happened?” Batuset asked, coming to stand beside Atty.

            “They closed the gates between the sections.”

            “Why?”

            “Hell if I know.”

            “Maybe it’s supposed to be a protective measure,” Paxton commented.

            “Protection against what?” Batuset countered.

            Dardin Tabb jogged up to join them. “We have six men unaccounted for,” he told the battle lord. Atty glanced at Mastin.

            “I’ll take roll immediately, my lady,” the man announced. Giving Paxton a nod, the two men hurried away to check on their own troops.

            “Hey, Atty.”

            She turned to look at Twoson.

            “Didn’t Highcliff say he was planning on attending a play this evening?” The man cast his eyes upward. “Looks like the theater is going to be a bit empty, wouldn’t you say? Considering the sun’s just now setting.”

            Paas snorted. “If there even
was
a play planned for tonight.”

            Atty caught sight of Renken running toward her. His hand was on the hilt, but his sword remained sheathed. “Garet?”

            “I went to check. The gates leading into the next section are closed, too.”

            “What about those men caught on the wrong side when they closed the gates?” Batuset growled. “They sure didn’t give anyone enough time to get back to their own camps. There’d better be a damn good reason why they shut us in like this without adequate notice.”

            A memory dropped over her like a cold blanket. Atty staggered and reached out for support. Renken grabbed her hands to keep her from falling. Shaking her head to clear the momentary haze, she stared at him wide-eyed.

            “Those men near the kitchen. What they said. ‘Make sure everything is ready when they give us the signal to close the gates.’”

            He glanced at the huge wall as the implication dawned on him. “Ohhh, shit. The signal… That’s what we heard before the gates were shut.”

            Batuset drew his sword. “Dardin, have the men arm themselves. Tell them to—”

            “Hey! Where is everyone?” someone yelled, pointing upward.

            Atty glanced at the parapet. At the empty catwalk. Renken also noticed the unexpected evacuation. “Where are the soldiers? Where did they go?”

            “Good question,” Batuset replied. “Why all of a sudden did he remove the guards?”

            The walls effectively blocked most of the wind, but not the snow, which continued to fall. A fine layer of powder already covered the ground, making each footstep crunch loudly. The sound of people talking and milling about echoed within the enclosed area, making it difficult to hear anything that might be going on in the sections in front of and behind them.

            A large man with a dark scowl ambled up to where they were standing. “The name’s Achery. I’m the Battle Lord of Saint Conesus, north of here.”

            Batuset held out a hand in greeting. “Zane Batuset, Battle Lord of Foster City.” He pointed to Atty. “This is Atrilan D’Jacques, the Battle Lady of Alta Novis.”

            Achery’s thick brows lifted slightly. “Alta Novis? So you’re the Mutah huntress.”

            Rather than acknowledge him, she waved at the abandoned battlements. “What do you make of all this?”

            The man shook his head. “I was about to ask you the same question.”

            “You’ve been here a few days, right?” Renken inquired.

            Archery stared at the ex-mercenary. “You’re D’Jacques?”

            “No. Name’s Renken. The battle lord is in his tent at the moment.”

            “Oh?”

            Atty explained. “My husband fell ill during the trip. Our physician gave him something to help him get better. When did you arrive at Rocky Gorge?”

            “Day before yesterday.”

            “Did they close these gates either of those nights?” Renken continued.

            Again, Achery shook his head. “No. In fact, I was just discussing that with Morisee. He’s the battle lord of Valkerson, a few day’s ride from my compound. We traveled here together. We noticed the main gates were shut after dark, but not between these sections. I commented to Morisee that Highcliff seemed pretty trusting that nothing would happen between Normals and Mutah during the summit.”

            “So you have no idea why they would shut the between gates tonight?” Atty asked.

            “No idea at all.”

            “What’s your feeling about this summit?” Renken asked outright.

            The battle lord appeared taken aback by the man’s brash questioning. Atty smiled at the man. “Forgive him. He’s rather outspoken.”

            “No need to apologize for him,” Achery replied. “I’m not accustomed to someone so forthright. Does he question your authority in the same manner?”

            Atty’s smiled widened. “Once you get used to him, you realize he’s like another voice of reason, making you stop and think about what you’re about to do before you do it.” She tilted her head slightly. Even though Renken’s question had caught the man off-guard, it had been enough to allow her to get a sense of where the man’s loyalties lay. That, and the fact that he was comfortable being around her, eased her worry. “You’re here to push for more treaties with the Mutah,” she flatly announced.

            Achery didn’t appear to be surprised by her statement. “That I am. Me and about six other battle lords, that I know of.”

            “May I ask what changed your mind?”

            The battle lord’s face softened. “His name is Deneel. He’s my son and heir. Up until last year, I’ve never been able to father any children. As you can see, I’m well up in years, and I hadn’t taken any woman to wife until a couple of years ago. I’d given up having any progeny until one day Dr. Bothrite approached me with a concoction he said he’d gotten from a Mutah doctor who had asked to stay overnight. Bothrite said the drink would help me produce more sperm. At first, I was very skeptical, but Bothrite assured me he wouldn’t have suggested it if he didn’t believe it was safe. So I took it. I drank that awful tasting stuff for eight straight days. And then, a few weeks later, my loving wife discovered she was pregnant.”

            Batuset cleared his throat. “Excuse me for asking this, but are you certain you’re the boy’s father?”

            Instead of becoming angry by the question, Achery chuckled. “I will admit I had my moments of doubt. But I love Farress, and I trusted her. And when Deneel was born, I knew the truth. If you saw my boy, you wouldn’t have any doubts as to his heritage.” His gaze returned to Atty. “I am indebted to Mutah for what that drug accomplished. Without it, I would have died without an heir. That little boy is my whole world, and I want him to grow up without the hatred and violence I had to face when I was younger. Thanks to you and D’Jacques, I have that chance to make a better future for my son.”

            Atty smiled warmly at the man. He was sincere in his revelation, which made her feel a little more hopeful about the possibility of a successful summit. She started to reply when Mastin and Paxton ran up to report.

            “Eight men are missing,” Mastin told her.

            “I have eleven still unaccounted for myself,” Achery added.

            “Along with my six.” Batuset glared at the empty catwalks. “If every battle lord is missing soldiers, that’s a goodly number trapped on the other side of this blasted wall.”

            “I wonder how many men LeGreen is missing,” Atty commented.

            “It could be a goodly number, considering how many soldiers he brought with him,” Paxton remarked. “I’ll go look for his campsite and find out.”

            “Ho. No need for that.” Achery held up a hand to stop the second from leaving. “He’s not here anymore. LeGreen moved his camp out about an hour ago.”

            “Out?” Renken repeated. “Out where?”

            Achery pointed toward the faire ground. “I’m guessing back in that area. He sure as hell didn’t move in with the Mutah.”

            The news was like a bucket of icy water being thrown on her. Atty shivered and glanced up at the tall structure, when the lashed tree trunks were suddenly enveloped in a red mist. She sniffed, and a rancid tang bit into her nostrils like tiny teeth. Without being aware of what she was doing, the ballock slid into her palm and she backed toward the tent.

            Paxton saw her reaction first. “Atty?”

            “My bow. Get me my bow!” she snapped as a shriek came from somewhere to their right. At the same moment, several people screamed and pointed toward the sky. “Everyone, at arms!”

            “Get inside your tents!” Batuset yelled, giving her a shove. “Get undercover!”

            “Atty, go!” Renken also pushed her toward the door flap.

            The smell grew stronger. Pungent, caustic, and filled with blood. And with it came the sound of thousands of leathery wings. The sky went completely dark as the creatures descended, covering the heavens with black death.

            Someone shrieked, “
Bats!
”, and the world exploded in chaos.

Chapter Thirty-One

Trapped

            Atty stumbled into the tent to grab her bow and quiver of arrows. Outside, the unmistakable sounds of war assailed her ears as the soldiers fought the creatures swooping down on them. Cries for help came from all around her. Cries that faded into the distance as some of the men were carried away in the animals’ grasps.

            Grotesque shadows moved outside the tent’s walls. Silhouetted by the campfires, she could see men slashing at legs and wings that descended on them from above. As she stared at the fight going on less than a dozen feet away, she watched as one bat open its mouth to reveal protruding fangs, and sink them into the soldier. Giving a shake of its head, it took off with its prize. The heavy flapping wings created strong gusts, almost blowing down the tent’s sides.

            Atty shucked her coat, tossed it away from her, and took a stance over her husband’s still body, bracing him between her legs as she readied her bow. She hoped the tent would provide some protection against the bats, but in case it didn’t, she was ready.

            She knew little about bats. About their habits and peculiarities, especially the vampire variety. These creatures weren’t among the kind which attacked Alta Novis. Or Wallis, if memory served. Therefore, her education while growing up didn’t include any details she needed to learn in order to defeat them. But one thing was very clear. These were big beasts. Bigger than crows, and more deadly, and therefore harder to kill. Not impossible to kill, but she would have to take advantage of every opportunity she saw to strike. In addition, she needed to make mental notes as to any weaknesses she saw in case she faced them again.

            Something slammed against the top of the tent, forcing her to duck. The material sagged halfway to the ground, then suddenly lifted, as if whatever had landed on it launched back into the air. The bats were mostly silent. A few squeaks were all she could hear above the din of the soldiers’ cries and grunts, the heavy flapping of wings, and the solid whack of swords striking their targets.