One Battle Lord’s Fate (18 page)

“Get dressed. There’s some sort of commotion going on in the second courtyard. To be safe, we need to get you and the baby away from here.”

She made sense. Everyone in the compound knew this lodge was her and Yulen’s home. Quickly dressing, she followed Madigan downstairs, retrieving her weapons from the stand by the front door.

“Where are you taking him?”

“Liam seems to think the clinic isn’t safe. He’s looking into possible places where we can hide him.”

“Hide him?” Atty’s eye
s widened as a chill went through her. “Maddy, you don’t think those men¯”

Madigan pivoted around and thrust her face nearly nose-to-nose to Atty. “Go back to your Mutah roots and
think
, Atty! Living here with us has softened your stance on Normals. Do you remember how Mutah were treated before you arrived?”

The fear in the woman’s voice was heartbreaking. Before Atty could answer her, the faint sound of a scream permeated the lodge. A scream of fear. Of pain. Of death.

And it was close by.

“Go!” Atty nearly pushed the woman down. Madigan hurried down a back hallway and disappeared into a side room. A second later, a door slammed. Atty rushed into the rear of the lodge where she knew lay more bedrooms and another bath. She found the rear exit and quickly set the board of hard oak left leaning against the wall into the bars to secure it.

Quickly walking back into the living room, she heard a tapping at the door. She took a few steps toward it, when the tapping came again. Slowly, she moved up to the door and placed her ear to the wood, but she couldn’t detect any sound.

“Who is it?”

Moonlight streamed down from the bedroom. She was still somewhat disoriented. No telling what time it was, or how close it might be until dawn.

The tapping sounded again, only this time it was more of a knock. Atty stepped back from the door. Yulen had thought about having a peep hole or a sliding security panel installed into the heavy wood, but had yet to have it ordered done.

Standing a few feet away, she called out again. “Who is it?”

“Trouble in the second courtyard, my lady! We need your presence immediately!” The male voice quivered with fear.

“Sy Volcheck is acting Third! What are his orders?”

There was no response when there should have been. Any soldier trained under Yulen’s command would have immediately replied that they would seek out the soldier, or let her know what orders he was following.

The man outside said neither because he was not one of her guards.

Atty moved away, hiding herself in the shadows at the far side of the living room, and stopped in front of the fireplace. She pulled the bow from over her head and nocked an arrow. She already knew she had a dozen shafts in her quiver. If the men should happen to break down the door, she would have mere seconds to make every one of them count before the enemy got too close to make them effective. At that point, she would have to resort to her Ballock.

Her body hummed with adrenaline. What time was it? How long had the other Battle Lords waited before making their move?

Something hit the back door with loud yet muffled thud.

Madigan!

Her thoughts focused momentarily on the woman and Mattox. Had Yulen’s mother been able to get the baby to safety before the soldiers’ arrival? Where were her own soldiers?

The walls of the lodge had been fortified to prevent any outside noises from intruding. Most of the time none did. At once, Atty could see the advantages and especially the disadvantages. There was no way to tell if her men were fighting the rebellion, or if they had already been overcome.

The muffled thud hit the front door. The hinges rattled in reply. They were using a battering ram to get through. She backed up until she felt the roughness of the cold rock wall. Thank goodness the fireplace flue was too small for a man’s body to fit.

The pounding grew louder and harder, but Yulen’s specially designed doors held. At least, they did for now. But could the doors stand up to a continued assault? How long would the attackers continue to fight their way in?

The pounding unexpectedly stopped. The resulting silence raised the hairs on her head. The cessation didn’t mean they’d quit. They weren’t through. They were re-organizing. Taking time to assess their next step.

Atty took a deep, shaky breath. She refused to think what these men would do to her if they managed to capture her. She couldn’t think about it. She had seen what horrors Normals could inflict on Mutah. She had been the victim of such terrors in the past. But those times would not compare to the blackness she watched filling the room.

At that moment, she knew with sick certainty they would get her.

A heartbeat later, the hammering at the doors resumed, louder than the strongest thunder booming directly overhead. She started to put her hands over her ears when there was an explosive sound above her. Bits of glass flew around the living area, sparkling like raindrops in the pale moonlight. A hard crunch came from the bedroom, and she realized the window had been shattered. Her sanctuary had been breached, and they were coming in after her.

The first man to appear at the railing went down silently. The second man toppled over as Atty’s arrow went up into his throat, and exited out of the top of his head. When the third man appeared and tried to come down the stairwell, she pinned him to the wall behind it. She had twelve arrows, and each one found an enemy. When the last arrow flew, she quickly dropped her quiver and bow, and pulled the Ballock into her hands, half-crouching in preparation for hand-to-hand combat.

They advanced upon her like an angry tide. She fought them, stabbing as they attacked all at once. She fought partly out of fear, but mostly out of desperation. Eventually, if not tonight, then soon, she would be killed. More than likely tortured prior to that for their enjoyment, as well.

But not before she gave everything she had.

She had no idea how many she killed or wounded. She concentrated on the eyes and noses and ears. To any opening leading directly into the brain. Blood ran warm down her arms as she fought to keep a grip on the dagger’s slippery handle, but there were too many of them. She was weakening, and the wall of men continued to surge toward her.

Arms grabbed her around the waist and tackled her onto the floor. A boot met the side of her head, stunning her momentarily. It was enough for several hands to hold down the arm brandishing the Ballock, and another boot crashed down heavily over her wrist. She screamed as the bones snapped, but by then she knew she was completely overwhelmed. Heavy weight held down her legs and other arm, yet she continued to struggle.

A shadowy form detached itself from the mob. A small lantern was brought forth, and Rafe D’Jacques peered down at her in triumph. “Yep. It’s the Mutah whore.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Any sign of the whelp?”

“No, Sir!” a voice answered from overhead.

Rafe looked back down at her. “Where’s the pup?”

“Go to hell,” she answered with clenched teeth.

Rafe sighed loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know whether to be happy that you’re going to be difficult about this, or irritated. Oh, well.” He smiled at her. “For now, let’s go with the former, shall we?”

She saw his huge fist swing around, aiming for the side of her face, but she couldn’t move to avoid it. Pain erupted in a fiery blast inside her head, and then there was blessed blackness.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Bound

Someone tore her clothing from her. The violent act roused her from unconsciousness. A minute passed, then another as she tried to come to grips with this new reality.

It was cold. The early morning fog clung to her bare skin like ice water, leaving a wet sheen. Atty tried to move, to cover herself with her hands, but her body wouldn’t obey.

She managed to open her eyes. One eye was clear, but the other was hazy, with flecks of red floating before her face. But she was able to see she had been stripped naked and was bound by heavy ropes to a pole.

No. Not a pole. To one of the bell’s posts.

She was in the middle of the inner compound, not far from her home and the main lodge. The bell tower rose above her. She was tied to the right front stanchion, with her arms bound behind her back. The sun was above the trees in the distance in front of her. East. It was morning.

A guard must have seen her come to. She continued to blink, trying to clear her vision. She was shaking from the cold, and her breasts were filling, readying themselves for Mattox’s breakfast. But her son wasn’t here. She vaguely remembered being asked where he was. That meant they didn’t have him. Madigan and Liam had managed to get the baby to safety. Atty said a silent prayer of thanks.

She could hear movement in the distance. The sound of many people breathing. A covered cough. Soft murmuring. The townspeople were gathering. Watching.

There was the sound of heavy boots crunching along the path. They stopped a few feet away, and a deep voice heavy with self-importance broke the silence.

“Well, well. It looks like our battle bitch has awakened. You know I have a personal vendetta against you after what happened last night, don’t you?”

Her throat was tight, but she managed to answer him. “You broke into
my
home. You beat me unconscious.”

“That’s because you killed sixteen of my men!” Rafe yelled. “Sixteen good men, now buzzard meat because of you.”

Sixteen men. She almost smiled at the irony. She’d killed sixteen of Yulen’s men the first time they had encountered each other. A year ago, when the Battle Lord had attacked her compound.

More people surrounded them. Guards moved forward to hold back the gathering crowd. Atty glanced back down at herself. She was fully nude and exposed. Her breasts were full, hard and aching, and her nipples erect. She shivered.

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

“I came for what is rightfully mine.”

Before she could reply, D’Jacques stepped closer to her. With his gloved hand, he grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed it. Atty gasped from the pain as Rafe watched the thin, white milk dribble to the ground. His breathing grew raspier in that way Yulen’s did when he desired her. She chanced a glance down at his crotch. Although his jerkin covered his genitals, she would swear he sported an erection. His next words were also telling as he bent forward so only she could hear.

“If you were not Mutah, I would tie you to the bed and have you countless ways before I gave you over to my men to enjoy.”

Suddenly, he stepped back and wrung his hand, then turned his back to her to face his audience.

“Good people of Alta Novis! My name is Rafe D’Jacques. That’s right. I am a D’Jacques, but born of a different mother. And as is my right, I am claiming this compound for my own. I also claim it as the firstborn son of Rory D’Jacques. I am now in command, and this is my first decree. All Mutah are to leave immediately. You are not allowed to pack anything. You are not allowed to carry anything. Go out the front gate now. You have fifteen minutes to vacate these grounds. After which, my men have my permission to kill or torture any of you they find within the walls.”

He paused as people began to head for the gates, many of whom cast last looks at Atty. As the exodus continued, Rafe drew the rest of the crowd’s attention back to himself.

“Next, I am searching for the Mutah son of Yulen D’Jacques. I will richly reward the person who gives me the name of the person harboring this child, or the location. But it is imperative that the abominable offspring be wiped from the face of this earth as soon as possible.

“To those of you who have been blessed to be Normal, you are warmly invited to stay here in Alta Novis under my protection. Those articles and domiciles which were once owned and inhabited by Mutah, you are welcome to take possession of them on a first come, first served basis.

“Finally, this so-called Battle Lady whom you revered is now my prisoner. No one is allowed to talk to her, and anyone trying to provide her with food, drink, clothing, or weapons will be harshly dealt with.”

“How long is she going to stay there?” a male voice yelled from the crowd.

“It depends on how long she can brave the weather.” Rafe smiled. “Are there any further questions?”

“What happens when your brother returns?”

“Won’t he challenge you?”

Rafe laughed. “Let him! I have his army. I have his Mutah wife. And I have his compound. If this place can hold off a horde of Bloods, it can certainly hold off a Battle Lord with a few paltry soldiers.”

Someone muttered something inaudible. Rafe caught it on the wind, and brought attention to it. “Please. Feel free to say whatever you want without fear of reprisal.”

A different male voice spoke out. “You are underestimating Yulen D’Jacques.”

“I hope so!” Rafe smiled broadly. “So far I’ve seen nothing that has impressed me. In fact, I’m rather disappointed by the lack of support for your great ex-Battle Lord.” He dismissed them with a wave of his hands. “This celebration is at an end. This ridiculous summit is dissolved. If any Battle Lord wishes to challenge me for this compound, do so now. Otherwise, you will be allowed one hour to pack your tents and be gone without prejudice.”

“What if another Battle Lord decides to take you up on your claim?”

Chuckling, Rafe motioned to someone off to the side. Five more Battle Lords walked sedately over to stand with him. Behind the crowd, the combined forces from those compounds moved forward.

“All right.
Is
there a Battle Lord who wishes to challenge me?”

The crowd was curiously quiet. People look around, waiting, but no one stepped up to accept the dare. Atty wondered where the other Battle Lords were.

Rafe held out his hands. “No one? Very well. You’ve had your chance.” He turned to address the men standing beside him. “Gentlemen, let’s retire to the main hall to enjoy some of the fruits of the spoils.” He motioned to one soldier who had remained inconspicuously out of sight until now. “Sees, have the crowd disburse before you join us.”