One Battle Lord’s Fate (5 page)

A flashback from many years ago slowly came into focus. It was one of a thousand memories he never realized his mind had stored away.

* * *

The Battle Lord had taken the caravan to Molto Fuego, in the Dakota Provinces. It was the furthest he had taken his family, but the trip had been more of a combination vacation and business trip. The Battle Lord of Molto Fuego had acquired a fine herd of wild horses, and D’Jacques wanted at least half a dozen mares and hopefully a stallion to refresh the bloodlines in his stables.

The nineteen day trip one way had not been as dangerous or as physically demanding on them as his father had expected, which was good. They had stayed twelve days at the compound before heading home with six healthy mares, two ponies, and a fine, broad-chested Appaloosa stud.

“We’re gonna have a fine herd once we breed the stallion,” Rory told them. “He’ll give us a herd with the stamina to withstand the long treks I’ll be making on my yearly sweeps.”

Glancing over at the young man riding slightly behind him, he noticed the particularly glum expression on his son’s face. “What’s been eating you, Yulen? You’ve been cantankerous ever since we left Alta Novis.”

But Yulen had kept his mouth shut and his mood to himself. He had learned a long time ago that whenever his father desired something, or had his mind set to do something in a particular way, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. He hadn’t wanted to come on this trek to get the horses. If he had been given the choice, he would have stayed with the soldiers in their barracks back at Alta Novis and practiced on his sword technique. He was still too gawky and awkward, even at the age of nineteen, and whenever the men would go out for practice, they’d kick his butt.

If he was going to be the Battle Lord one day, Yulen knew he would have to get his own skills honed to a point where he could take on any rival, any enemy, and beat them. All this running around and diplomacy crap was fine and good for his father. The man spent more time over his paperwork and managing the compound than he did keeping himself fit for battle.

Yulen slid his eyes up at Rory D’Jacques. Explain to the man why he was sullen? Was he kidding?

Rory sighed loudly and cast a glance at his wife riding not too far behind. Madigan gave her husband a rueful smile that seemed to say, “He’s a teenager. What did you expect?”

Moving on ahead to the front of the line, the Battle Lord left his son alone to his own thoughts. They were moving at a brisk pace, covering a lot of distance each day. With any luck they would arrive at Foster City by midday meal.

Yulen glanced down at a pair of ground squirrels rushing away from the caravan of horses passing by. They got halfway across the small grassy stretch of land, between the road and where the forest began with a wall of greenery, before they parted ways and raced off in different directions. Curious as to why they’d suddenly split up, the teenager looked up in time to see a woman and little girl emerge from the wood. The woman was carrying a basket full of what appeared to be mushrooms. The little girl who accompanied her was carrying a longbow that was bigger than she was.

As the caravan passed by the pair, Yulen couldn’t help but notice the girl’s long strands of jet black hair. It was so black and so thick, it almost looked like a cape of inky smoke flowing down her back.

As her mother casually picked mushrooms by the edge of the forest, the girl, who couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years old, kept her bow aloft, an arrow nocked in the string. Yulen realized she was keeping guard. The idea was so ludicrous, that a nine year-old girl would keep guard over her mother with a longbow that required more strength to pull than she probably had in her entire skinny little body gave Yulen a good chuckle. Especially when he noticed the little doll protruding from her quiver.

At least it gave him a good laugh, and it put him in a better frame of mind until they reached Foster City. The little girl, he noticed, continued to stare at them as they passed. Her eyes were unreadable, but her mouth was set in a grim line of determination.

* * *

“My love?” he whispered. She was so close to being asleep, but he felt he had to ask. “Atrilan?”

“Hmm?” It was more of a little sound coming from her throat, than an acknowledgment.

“Did you used to have a little doll with purple button eyes and red yarn for hair?”

He heard her breath catch in her throat. Her face lifted from beneath his chin. “I called her Missy Sparkle. How’d you know?”

“Did you take your bow with you to protect your mother when she went in search of mushrooms?”

“The hunters used to make fun of me because they said my bow was bigger than I was,” she grumbled. “How did you know about my doll? Did Tory tell you?”

“No.” Hugging her was such a pleasurable feeling. It was like holding love in his arms. All thought of having sex again drifted away on a cloud of contentment. “I think...many years ago, I think I may have seen you with your mother. It was when my family and I were on our way home from visiting another compound. I remember a girl about eight or nine, with this wealth of black hair, and holding a reeeeally long bow. She was standing at the edge of the wood, and she looked like she was guarding her mother who was picking mushrooms. And there was this doll she had in her quiver.” He lowered his head to kiss the tip of her nose. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we’d met each other so long ago?”

Placing her lips to his chest, she curled against him. “I told you. We were destined to be together.”

“I love you,” he whispered, giving her a tender hug.

“Shh. Get some rest and reserve your strength. You’ll need it in the morning,” she told him.

The deep rumble of laughter in his chest was the last thing she heard before she drifted off.

Chapter Seven

Rescue

“Atty, the Battle Lord needs to see you. Immediately.”

She glanced up from the drawings Cavender had handed her. The blade smith was wanting to start making a line of elaborately carved longbows along with his already famous collection of knives and swords. And he had asked Atty to help him with the logistics in the designs, to make certain he didn’t create a weapon that wasn’t useable.

Since Atty’s weapon of choice was the longbow, and her incredible ability with the weapon was now a well-known fact for miles around, more and more people were switching from the shorter bows to the bigger ones, to emulate the woman they had come to admire. It surprised her that others would want to copy her technique, but it didn’t bother her. What she didn’t expect was for Cavender to seek her out and request her opinion.

Handing the sheets back to the man, she flashed him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I’ll have to get back with you on these.”

“No problem. I can wait,” Cavender assured her. “Next time, I hope to have a couple of models ready for you to test, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s a date!” she called back over her shoulder as she hurried out of the hut to follow the soldier who had been sent to find her. Yulen never sent another man unless it was an emergency, which was why she broke into a run.

“The main gate!” the soldier called out to her when she passed him.

It didn’t take her long to reach the entrance to the compound. She noticed the gates were open, which wasn’t unusual. Now that Alta Novis had secured treaties with several Mutah compounds, and their army had defeated the Bloods in this area, the compound was a major draw for new residents and businesses. As Yulen had told her not too long ago, their numbers were increasing to a point where he might have to start turning people away.

She spotted her husband talking to several people by the wall. As she neared, one figure detached itself from the group, and she froze in surprise. Her approach, however, had not gone unnoticed. Yulen turned to see her standing not far away.

“Atty, we have a missing child.”

Relief swept through her. Atty’s first thought had been fear for Mattox, who was cared for by Madigan whenever she had to attend to something in the compound.

Glancing over at the woman standing next to Yulen, a pair of brown eyes locked onto hers. Before a film of revulsion inevitably dropped over the woman’s face, Atty had noticed the agony only a mother could feel. Slowly she walked up to join them.

“Case?”

“Yeah,” Yulen nodded.

“When?”

“Yesterday. He never came home last night.” Turning back to the woman, the Battle Lord gave her an expectant look.

Danna Abalam shifted from one foot to the other. It was clear the woman was reluctant to speak with Atty present, but her fear and worry were too great. “He went out yesterday morning to see if he couldn’t kill something for the table.” She threw an angry but otherwise unreadable look at the Mutah huntress. “Ever since his father was killed, Case has tried to take on the job of being the only man in the house.”

The remark was directed straight at Atty, and everyone in the group understood why. Atty had killed Fulcet Abalam, the woman’s husband, when Yulen had raided the Mutah compound. Back when they had been enemies fighting each other for their lives.

Just over year ago,
a little voice spoke in Atty’s head. A little over a year ago? She shifted her gaze back to her husband. “I’ll find him.” To Mrs. Abalam she asked, “Did he go out the front gate?”

The woman shrugged. “I don’t know. He sometimes uses one of the other doors.”

Yulen quickly ordered one of the guards standing nearby to check with the soldiers to see if any of them had noticed the boy leaving the compound. The man ran off to follow through.

“We’ll get your boy back, Danna,” he tried to reassure the woman.

Neither he nor Atty could miss the mixture of emotions flowing across Danna Abalam’s face. Nor would they forget the last time they both had faced the distraught woman. Atty felt the ghost of pain in her face where a heavy wooden bucket had smashed across her cheek. The woman had been seeking retaliation for her loss, but Atty had demanded that Yulen take no reprisal action. Enough blood had been shed between Normals and Mutah. It had to stop somewhere.

Atty checked her weaponry to make sure she had everything she needed. Although she felt safe enough in the compound to go anywhere without protection, there would always be the chance she would need to keep her weapons close by. Some of the newcomers to Alta Novis were still too quick to draw their swords on any of the obvious Mutah now living inside the compound. It was also one of the reasons why Yulen also kept his weapons belt on whenever he was outside their private lodge.

She was aware of the Battle Lord coming up to her, getting close enough to where they wouldn’t be overheard. “Be careful, Atty. I heard wolfen last night.” Fear flickered briefly in his blue-gray eyes.

She flashed him a smile. “Don’t worry. Oh, if I’m not back by the time Mattox needs feeding, let Madigan know. I think she’s found some milk pouches that will work until I return.”

“Do you think there’s a chance the boy could still be alive?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly with a sigh and shook her head. “It’s possible. I’ve seen stranger things happen. But either way I’ll bring back proof.” She chanced a final glance at the woman watching them. Yulen also noticed where her attention was centered, and gave her a nod.

“You know you don’t have to do this. I could send some of my men in to look for him.”

“Then why did you send for me?” she questioned with a partial smile. “You know to send in the hunter to hunt. No. This one is mine. It’s only right.”

“Sir!” A soldier she knew as Ruggers came trotting up. “Canaan reports he saw the boy leaving yesterday morning out the front gate and head east.”

“East?”

“Makes sense,” Atty admitted. “There hasn’t been as much hunting in that direction. I’ve been tempted myself to check it out. Game could be more plentiful.”

There was a shout in the distance. Everyone turned to see Paxton running up. Apparently he had been notified that Atty was about to venture outside of the compound. She steeled herself for the inevitable.

“I’m going alone, Warren.”

The soldier gave her a disapproving frown. Since she had tagged him as her own Second, as was her right as the Battle Lady, he had become indispensable. But this time, she had to go it alone, even thought he thought differently.

“There’s been wolfen sighted the past few nights,” he argued.

“I know,” Atty told him. “But you’re not adept at stealth like I am. I can’t have you with me.”

“Even to protect your back?”

She didn’t mind him trying to dissuade her. It was part of his job to make sure she was protected at all times, even if it meant going against her orders. Atty started to reply when Yulen softly broke in.

“Warren, follow her into the forest, but then obey her orders from there. Be a backup when and if she needs one.” He looked down at his wife. “Even Cole followed me to Wallis that time I knew I had to go it alone,” Yulen told her. “Don’t take unnecessary chances when you don’t have to.”

Atty studied the sky for a moment, then stood on tiptoe to give her husband a kiss. “Very well. Keep the bed warm for me,” she murmured into his ear. A moment later, she was outside the compound, heading for the dense line of trees hundreds of yards away, with Paxton close behind.

She knew Yulen would remain at the gate, watching her retreating figure until she ducked into the thick brush, disappearing like the expert she was. Only then would he go back inside the compound proper. Until she was back home safe and sound, she also knew his mind wouldn’t be on his work, nor would his worry abate.

Chapter Eight

Close

There was nothing left in him. Pain had a firm grip on his body, and now every step he made was white hot agony squeezing out the last of his energy. But he kept running. He had to. The wolfen wasn’t too far away. Once it found his trail again, the boy knew his life was over.

He had been lucky yesterday, bagging three rabbits and a couple of moles. His knapsack had hung heavy on his back, but he had much too proud of his success to really notice the weight. And much too sure of himself to realize that the game was leaking blood in telltale droplets along the forest floor.

It was by pure luck that he had heard the wolfen’s approach as the animal stalked him. He had stopped to relieve himself against a tree. Buttoning himself up, Case had swung around to resume his trek when the huge animal struck. It hit the knapsack instead of the boy, who had been its intended target. The impact had slammed the boy into a thatch of wild strawberries.

Terrified, he had screamed as he managed to scramble out of the arm straps while the wild animals tore at the fabric sack, shredding it as easily as paper as it sought the source of blood the boy had caught earlier.

Somehow he got out and away from the wolfen, and ran, pure terror pumping adrenalin through his system as he raced for the sanctuary of the compound. Or so he thought. The back of his vest was coated with blood, providing a clear beacon for the animal to follow at its leisure, now that the initial hunger pangs in its belly had been satisfied.

A tall maple provided a perch for the night, but the wolfen never let him forget it was camped nearby. Unable to sleep except in fits and starts, the boy sat in a fork near the top of the tree, trembling from the cold and fear. All night long the wolfen howled at the half moon as it waited for its next meal to come back down to the ground.

Sometime before dawn, the animal had left. But he knew it wasn’t gone for good. Quickly, Case climbed down out of the tree and started running again. He hoped that this time his sense of direction hadn’t lied to him.

He used his head now, recalling little tricks he had overheard other soldiers and hunters discussing. Like peeing in a crop of bushes in a direction he wasn’t going so that the animal would spend valuable time searching the wrong trail. Then there was the stream bed, where he traversed in the water several hundred feet along the waterline before angling out on the opposite side. Unfortunately the wolfen had managed to catch wind of him with its sensitive nose, and for the last few minutes Case had heard it growling as it advanced on him.

There was no more fight left in him. He was hungry and in need of something to drink. His legs felt like pudding. It would be a miracle if he managed to hoist himself back up another tree, but then what would he do? The animal wouldn’t let him out of its sight this next time. It would stay until he either jumped out on his own, or fell out from exhaustion.

Each step was like dragging his feet through a soggy swamp. His lungs were on fire inside his chest, and his heart was hammering so hard the thunder of blood inside his ears was deafening.

Behind him the wolfen barked as it casually pursued him. It had become a simple game of letting the prey tire itself out before pouncing on it. Case knew the tactic as well as the animal did as he swatted aside a tier of tall ferns. There was no more stealth in his running. No use in trying to stay low or quiet. He was too far gone to take any more precautions. The wolfen had won, yet the boy was damned it he’d make it easy on the creature.

The toe of his boot caught a tree root sticking up through the soil. He lurched, then tumbled face-first into the loamy soil with a hard thud. Fingers scrabbled for the only weapon he had left, the thin knife laced at his hip. Dragging it out of its sheath, he managed to prop his elbows underneath him and slowly raised his head—

—to find a pair of boots bracing his shoulders.

Slowly he lifted his eyes, following the line of the leg in the stained gray pants. A curvy leg, his muddled mind managed to distinguish. Before he could find where the legs came together he caught the edge of a bow, its string pulled back so far that the edges were bent. Case blinked and opened his mouth to ask—

“Shh.”

His mouth suddenly closed with a snap.

“Don’t...move,” a soft voice barely whispered where he could hear it.

His overused muscles trembled. As relief washed over him, the boy buried his nose back into the loam and waited. Behind him he could hear the oncoming rush of the wolfen as it realized it was nearing its prey. Nearing the end of the hunt.