One Battle Lord’s Fate (7 page)

“D’Jacques?” he questioned.

“Yes.”

“I thought you said his name was Rory.”

Janelle pressed her lips together. “Sit down, Rafe.”

“I would prefer to stand.”

“All right,” she nodded. “Then
I’ll
sit down.”

He watched irritably as the older woman seated herself in the only chair in the room. The place may have been the Battle Lord’s study, but everyone else thought of it as the War Room where he planned his strategies. Rafe rarely sat, preferring instead to pace about as he thought aloud.

Once she had crossed her legs and gotten comfortable, she waved a hand at the sheet of paper he continued to hold. “You remember what I told you about Ransom D’Jacques?”

“You said he and my grandfather were best of friends. They founded and built Alta Seran.”

“That’s right.” She nodded. “Ransom was the Battle Lord of Alta Novis that his great grandfather had built. Daddy was his Second. They were on a cleaning mission when they came across this area.”

“Yeah, I remember the story. It was a tiny compound, barely surviving as well as disorganized and prone to attacks from Mutah. After they seized it, Grandfather stayed and became the Battle Lord, and Ransom returned to Alta Novis.” Rafe shifted slightly in order to lean against the table. “Where’s all this going, Mother?” He shook the paper at her. “Who is Yulen D’Jacques?”

“Apparently he’s your half-brother. Your younger brother.”

Janelle watched as her son’s face went slack with surprise. A moment later he recovered, glancing back at the paper to read it a third time.

“Rory was Ransom’s son. He became the next Battle Lord after Ransom died. Rory was on a cleaning mission with his father when they came here. We had a huge celebration. I met your father, I fell in love with him, but he didn’t reciprocate. He was honest with me. He told me there was another woman back at Alta Novis whom he planned to marry. He loved her. I didn’t care. We had a week together, then they left.”

“And you never sent him word about me.” Rafe repeated the story he had heard ever since he was old enough to ask and understand why he existed when his mother had never taken a husband. His sharp eyes caught the sadness she couldn't hide. Her son knew she would always carry that flame of unrequited love for the man who had fathered him.

“I had long arguments with myself,” Janelle admitted. “In the end I came to a simple conclusion. If I sent him word about you, it may cause more trouble than either of us would have wanted. He had told me he didn’t love me, but at a subconscious level he desired me. And maybe cared about me.” She shook her head, lost in her memories. “No. By keeping my mouth shut, I guaranteed you would become the next Battle Lord after Richard died.” Somehow a trembling smile found her lips. “Rory would have Alta Novis and his wife. And maybe a male heir.” Again she shook her head, adding a sigh.

“Why haven’t you told me all of this before? Why did you just give it piecemeal to me?” Rory asked in a softer tone. He was not a man known for his sentimentality or gentleness. Quite the opposite. But his mother meant more to him than he led people to believe. Just as his grandfather had been the dominant male figure in his life until last year.

It didn’t surprise him when she shrugged her shoulders. Lifting the thick vellum sheet clutched in his hand, he questioned, “Why am I getting this invitation? This...” He glanced at the sheet to remark upon it. “This...invitation to attend a summit conference?” He read a bit more, and his face reddened with anger. “To establish a peace agreement between Mutah and Normals? The man wants peace with the
Mutah?
”

“Keep reading” Janelle told him. “There’s more”

Rafe read the rest of the document more slowly. “And to celebrate a renewal of vows between him and his wife.” He glared at his mother. “Why would I care that I have a half-brother?”

This time the glitter that came into her eyes was not because of tears or wistful thoughts. “Because it’s time for you to face the fact that you are Rory D’Jacques firstborn son. Therefore
you
are the rightful heir and Battle Lord of Alta Novis. Not Yulen. And definitely not any heir the second son may have.”

Rafe would recognize her hard, brittle look of righteous anger better than anyone. Seeing the definant jut of her chin, he demanded, “What are you not telling me, Janelle? C’mon. Spit it out.”

“I spoke with the soldiers who delivered the invitation. They were on their way to Finnock before turning around to head back. I asked them about Rory and this Yulen D’Jacques. I questioned them about Alta Novis. That woman Rory’s other son is renewing his vows with? The one called Atrilan? She’s a Mutah.”

She was delighted to see the disgust come over him, knowing she had experienced that same feeling crawl under her skin not an hour ago.

“And my father allowed him to wed one of those perversions of nature?”

This time she couldn’t help the tears that suddenly welled hotly in her eyes. “Rory died two years ago,” she said. “The soldiers said he was killed in a Mutah attack. His son took up the sword.”

“And now you want me to go to Alta Novis to do what? Take what you believe is rightfully mine?” Rafe tossed the paper onto the table and turned back to her. “For what purpose? I already own a compound.”

“Think, Rafe. This woman has apparently convinced D’Jacques to initiate those treaties between Alta Novis and other Mutah compounds. They want universal peace, and to establish trade agreements. That creature has somehow put a spell on him. She’s turned him away from the truth.” Janelle made a vague gesture with one hand. “If things had been different, if this woman had been normal like she should have been, and there wasn’t all that talk about Mutah compounds joining with Normal ones...” Her eyes ventured to the sheet of paper on the desk. “I would have burned that damn notice right after I’d gotten it.”

She could see his hands beginning to clench, and the sight of it made her smile. Her son was thinking. Even better, he was letting his hatred toward all things Mutah fuel what would become action. She hoped that action would further incite him to do what she prayed he would do. What she had been steering him toward doing for all these years. Rafe D’Jacques never took orders from anyone. Not even from his mother. At least not since he was fourteen. She had quickly discovered that in order to get Rafe to do what she wanted, all she needed to do was to feed upon his hatred of all things unnatural. It had taken her all his life, but she had succeeded in making him believe that all the woes brought upon this earth were caused by those creatures, those mutants, being here. That their existence was responsible for the attacks on the compound. And that his beloved grandfather would still be among them if not for the Mutah hoards.

“You’re telling me he’s making treaties with Mutah? For what purpose?”

“I don’t know. I can’t begin to imagine letting Mutah roam around unguarded inside a compound, much less marrying one.” Janelle pressed her normally full lips into a thin line. “It’s not right, Rafe. He’s making a mockery of Alta Novis. This Yulen doesn’t deserve to be Battle Lord. Hell, he’s not even acting like a Battle Lord!”

Rafe took a step toward the chair where she was unconsciously gripping the arms with white knuckles. “So you want me to take Alta Novis and cleanse it of these Mutah that have begun to infiltrate it?”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

Sapphire blue eyes met emerald green. The thoughts that passed between them were inevitable. That was probably why she had allowed him to take up the sword of Battle Lord so soon after Richard’s death. With his arm and her cunning, they made a superb pair.

“Very well, Mother.” He smiled broadly. “When do we leave?”

“The celebration is on the twelfth. If we leave tomorrow, we might make it there by the thirteenth,” she estimated.

“Ooooo.” He feigned disappointment. “You don’t want to push the caravan and make it in time for their renewal of vows?”

Her answer was in the glint of steel he saw come into her eyes. “Let them have their day, Rafe. We’ll just take away their happily ever after.”

Chapter Eleven

Overwhelmed

Yulen ran a hand over his face and tried to concentrate on the reports before him. Fortunately, the main lodge was practically deserted, or else he wouldn’t have gotten as much done as he had. It didn’t matter anyway. There was still a mountain of tallies and estimations waiting for his remarks or signature. The whole damn thing was beginning to give him a headache—to the point where he would be grateful for any diversion that would drag him away from the table for even the slightest amount of time.

As if on cue, MaGrath entered the room from the side entrance and disappeared into the kitchen area. Yulen immediately knew where the man had been, and why he was here now. Shoving aside the handful of personal requests he had been trying to make sense of for the past half hour, he folded his hands in front of his face and waited for the good doctor to reappear.

Sure enough, the man exited with two full mugs of cold beer and headed straight toward him. Brown eyes skipped over the odd scraps of paper littering the table, and a chuckle vibrated in his chest. “Seems the great Battle Lord has a weakness.”

“I hate paperwork. Period,” Yulen replied and accepted the mug offered to him. He took a long swallow before putting the flask down. “How’s she doing?”

“Exceptionally,” Liam remarked, making himself comfortable on the other side of the table. He scratched the side of his nose before continuing. “You know, when we were back in Wallis, I asked Gilter if Atty had been accident prone when she was growing up.”

“What did he say?”

This time the physician’s chuckle was a bit louder. “Constantly. The girl was always coming back to the compound covered in blood. If not some creature’s she’d killed, then her own. He said he must’ve used at least a skein of thread and placed a mile of stitches on her alone.” Liam’s brown eyes twinkled. “And here I thought she was having a run of bad luck since her settling here.”

“But I distinctly remember Tory telling me Atty was rarely sick,” Yulen pointed out.

The doctor nodded. “That’s true. She hardly had any of the traditional illnesses. But once her father started taking her outside the compound and began teaching her how to hunt, she was always getting nicked or gouged one way or another. She’s lucky her Mutah physiology allows her to be a rapid healer.”

This last remark caught Yulen’s attention, and he gave his old friend a slow grin. “Then she’ll be able to enjoy the festivities,” he remarked as a statement of fact. He was answered by another nod.

“In fact, she’s practically chewing at the restraints placed on her now. Maddy’s over at the lodge hoping to keep her entertained until the sleeping potion I gave her kicks in.” He sighed loudly and took another swallow of beer. “I don’t want to give her anything too strong. Not while she’s feeding Mattox. The medication could affect her milk.” Giving a wave at the paperwork, Liam added, “When are you going to admit defeat and hire someone to do that for you? You and I both know math isn’t one of your strong points.”

“I wish I could, Liam, but who can I trust to turn it over to? Last thing I need is someone running a little business on the side that I’m not aware of, and leeching our own coffers.” After another long drink, Yulen ran his fingers through his hair. It’s length and scraggly appearance caught his attention. “I also need a haircut, damn it. Liam?” He lifted a worried face to the man. “Have I bitten off more than I can chew? What with rebuilding Bearinger, extending the boundaries around Alta Novis, and now planning this surprise party for Atty...”

Liam waved off his worry and leaned over the table toward him. “Delegate, Yulen. Place a little more of the burden on your best men. You just concentrate on what needs your attention now.”

“The anniversary party.”

“Yeah.” He nodded once. “Didn’t you say your engineers guaranteed the outer perimeter walls are ninety-nine percent complete?”

“They need testing. Once that’s done, we can begin moving and building into the outer ring.”

“How soon before they’re done? Before or after the festival?”

“They should have the testing finished before the festival,” Yulen replied. “I’m having second doubts about removing the inner wall, though.”

Liam raised one eyebrow. “Oh? Any particular reason why?”

Yulen leaned back a bit to stretch. There was a slight pop as he arched his back to relieve a gnawing cramp. “I can’t explain my reasoning. I just feel it would be to our advantage to keep that inner wall up.” His voice died away as he lapsed into thought.

No doubt, the physician would immediately see through the Battle Lord's silence. Bearinger had fallen when the army of Bloods had managed to chop and burn their way through the outer wall into the compound. As a master strategist, Yulen believed having two barrier defenses would better their chances of defending the compound. If the enemy somehow managed to breach the outer wall, his men could retreat behind the safety of the second one.

As a tactical measure, a double-walled compound was unheard of. But the doctor knew why the Battle Lord had begun to have doubts about removing the original structure. From his own personal standpoint, he'd already admitted he rather liked the idea of having twice the safety measures in place.

“Yulen.”

The man’s head shot up as he gave the doctor his attention once more.

“What does your gut tell you?”

The two men continued to stare at each other for another full minute before a lazy smile slowly came over Yulen's face. MaGrath chuckled again, then emptied his mug.

“The only dilemma you haven’t solved for me is this paperwork,” Yulen chided him.

Getting to his feet, Liam replied, “Hell, I can’t make all your decisions for you. Besides, you don’t pay me enough as it is. This little problem will solve itself when the time is right. In the meantime, I suggest you sign off on those supply lists and let Berta know what you’re wanting to serve during the festival. After that, hightail it over to your lodge and pay some attention to your wife. She’s bedridden, in case you’ve forgotten.”