The Battle Lord's Lady (17 page)

She couldn’t be too far away, he kept telling
himself, and concentrated on searching the woods on the eastern
edge of the compound. Like all compounds, Foster City sat to the
side of the main road that linked communities from as far south as
the Louisy Provinces to Far Troit in the north. That meant that on
three sides the compound’s defenses overlooked the road—coming,
passing, and going—leaving only the one side directly facing the
woods. And, like all other fortresses, the woods had been cleared
back a minimum of five hundred yards to prevent a sneak attack from
enemy forces.

Yulen was certain Atty wouldn’t risk
detection by hanging around the roadside. His narrowed search gave
him hope he wouldn’t have to look for long.

Mastin never questioned him when, as they
reached the edge of the woods at the southern end of the compound,
the Battle Lord left the gravel and began pushing through the dense
undergrowth, heading east.

The rain continued at a slow but steady rate.
It forced Yulen to keep his head down as his eyes raked the ground
and waist-high brush for the sign he knew she would have left for
him. He just hoped he would recognize it when he saw it.

They were nearly dead-center between the
northern and southern borders when his mount suddenly shied,
snorting in fear. Yulen fought the stallion for a moment, finally
managing to swing the horse back to the low outcropping that jutted
outward from a sparse tangle of deformed oak. Narrowing his eyes,
Yulen peered closer at the limestone formation and found what he
had been seeking. It was a feather, its center totally stripped of
its silken, hair-like barbs until the shaft and quill resembled a
tiny arrow with fletching.

It pointed directly into the heart of the
forest.

The horse made its unease known by backing
away from the outcropping, forcing the Battle Lord to tighten the
reins before pivoting the animal back into position. He glanced
down at the symbolic arrow again just as a soft trilling noise came
from beyond the trees directly ahead, inside the forest, past the
invisible barrier that separated the barren land from the curtain
of green. A trilling he’d heard once before and would never forget.
Quickly, Yulen slid out of his saddle, dropping the reins to the
ground.

“Sir?” Mastin whispered. He’d pulled his
sword the moment he’d heard the bird-like call, and now prepared to
dismount as well to follow his leader.

Yulen raised his hand to stay the soldier.
“No. Remain here and watch my horse,” he ordered.

“But—”

“
Obey
me,
” Yulen hissed suddenly. His face brooked no
further argument from the Second, who lowered himself back into his
seat.

Mastin continued to keep his eyes glued on
his leader as the man carefully began to thread his way through the
brush, pushing directly into the forest. At the last moment before
the Battle Lord was completely swallowed up in its leafy green
darkness, he realized the man had yet to draw his sword.

Yulen kept a partial eye on where he was
treading. Once inside the grove, beneath the larger trees, the
leafy canopy kept much of the rain from finding its way to the
forest floor. Still, the ground was saturated to the point of
becoming treacherous and slippery if he wasn’t too careful about
where he put his weight.

He followed his gut instinct, searching the
undergrowth, although the trilling sound didn’t repeat. As he moved
further and further into the woods, he realized that finding her
would no longer be an option on his part. It was late afternoon and
the cloud cover made for poor visibility. It would be a matter now
of her revealing herself to him.

Another ten feet into the deepest part of the
forest...then twenty feet...and Yulen stepped into a tiny clearing
almost oblong in shape. He started, then straightened up to face
the warrior girl who stood at the opposite end of the clearing. She
was aiming an arrow directly at him.

Tiny drops of water found their way
into the clearing from the rain dripping off the early spring
leaves overhead. Yulen heard them hitting the dry leaves on the
ground with soft
plick
ing
sounds as he watched and waited, wondering who would be first to
speak. Wondering if she was okay.

She appeared to be okay. At first. Until he
noticed she was standing holding her bead on him with her other
hand. When she had drawn on the ferret, the longbow had been in her
right hand, her left hand pulling back. He would swear it on his
life. But now the bow was in her left hand, the arrow in her
right.

Was he supposed to notice the switch? Did it
mean anything that she’d changed her stance?

He stared intently at the new arrow. It was a
bit crooked, obviously made in haste and without the proper tools.
Regardless, it looked as though it could do considerable damage if
shot into the right place.

“I keep extra barbs in a compartment in the
bottom of my quiver,” she said in a tight voice.

A shiver ran up Yulen’s spine. She sounded
despondent and resigned. Why?

“Why did you leave the caravan?” he asked
aloud. Her aim never wavered, never showed any sign she was under
any undue stress, despite the fact that the tension on the bow was
enormous.

“Thank Liam for me that you got my message,”
she said instead of answering his question.

He raised a hand toward her. “Is this why you
led me here? To put an arrow through me? You could have easily done
that at any other time.”

“I brought you here to let you know I was
heading west, toward the great gulf.”

He took a step toward her. In response her
back stiffened but the arrow never moved. Given the distance, Yulen
knew it would be an easy chest shot.

“Why did you need tell me that? Why not just
go?”

“Because I knew you would think I would head
back to Wallis, and I was afraid your men would hurt more of my
people, trying to pry my whereabouts from them. Well, I’m not.”

He took another step, and this time she also
stepped back an equal distance. “Don’t come any closer,” she
warned.

“Atrilan...”

The sound of her full name caused the tip of
the arrow to move slightly. Yulen took hope in it and advanced
another step. Suddenly she shifted her aim, moving off of his chest
and centering on his legs. She didn’t want to kill him, just wound
him enough to keep him from coming after her.

“Go back now.
Now.
Before you force me to fire.”

“Not without you,” he told her firmly.

“No.” She shook her head, lifting her face
off the target. “Don’t come after me. Don’t do anything except go
on to Alta Novis. Go back to your precious...whore.”

“I’m not leaving without you. If I have to,
I’ll send the troops on ahead, but I’ll be back to find you,” he
promised.

“Why? Is having me as your secret weapon that
damn important to you?” Her voice wavered, then cracked. Yulen
heard her draw a raspy breath. “You would never find me unless I
wish it.”

He nodded. “You’re right. Your skill as a
hunter far exceeds mine. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try. And
keep trying. And never give up until I find you. I don’t care if
you go to the great gulf or east to the ruined cities.”

She held her stance for a few seconds, then
unexpectedly bolted, turning and running for the wall of foliage
behind her. Yulen raced after her, trying to head her off, even
though she was faster and closer than he was.

Suddenly, without warning, Atty grounded to a
halt, whirled around, raised her weapon, aimed, and fired—all in
one incredibly swift motion. Yulen let out a gasp of surprise as
the arrow embedded itself in the leather lacings of his scabbard
and pinned his weapon to a small shattered stump next to him. He
looked up to see her staring at him. The expression on her face was
a mixture of expectation—expectation...fear...and hope.

She’d never aimed for his legs. She’d hit
what she’d set as her target.

Calmly but quickly Yulen unbuckled his sword,
dropping the weapon where he stood. Raising his hands, he continued
to advance toward her. He hesitated for a split-second when she
lifted her bow, another arrow nocked and drawn quicker than he
could have blinked.

She killed the ferret with
her left hand. She took out the sword with her right.
The realization rocked him to the core. Her skills were
equally lethal with either hand.

Any warrior who could fight and wield a
sword with equal dexterity was a rare find. Men spent years trying
to achieve such agility. The longbow was a very specialized weapon,
and to find an expert marksman with
one
hand was a gift. Atty’s skills were, in a
word, impossible.

“You’re coming with me to Alta Novis,” he
told her quietly.

“No.”

“I’m not leaving without you. I don’t care if
you shoot me in the leg or the stomach or the arm. I’ll come back
for you.”

“I don’t believe you,” her voice trembled
although her shot sat rock steady.

“Come with me to my compound. To Alta Novis,”
he begged softly.

The tip of the arrow wavered again, but this
time he was close enough to see the tears glistening on her cheeks.
Without the bandages, the fading bruises and swelling on her face
were visible, but they didn’t diminish the strength and beauty of
her features.

“Why should I?” Her shoulders shook. Her head
dipped for a second before lifting and focusing back down the
arrow.

“Because I want you to be with me,” he told
her honestly, praying she would believe him.

“Liar. I asked to be with you and you
turned me away. You even...you even asked me to stay beside
you...and you went back on
that!
”

“That’s true. But that was before you left.”
He paused, and noticed she was waiting for him to continue. “You’ve
taught me a hard lesson, Atrilan.”

“Don’t...don’t call me that.”

“I will call you that, and I’ll do it
whenever we’re alone. Together. In the privacy of our room, or
wherever you are with me. Otherwise I’ll call you Atty when we’re
with others.” He took a small step toward her, relieved to see her
keep her ground. “You’re coming back, tonight, with me, to Foster
City. You’re staying with me. In my room. Just you and me.
Tonight.”

“As your prisoner,” she whispered with
bitterness.

“No. Not any more. Never again. I want to
take you to Alta Novis. I want you to meet my people. My mother.
Afterwards, if you want to go back to Wallis, I’ll have Mastin
escort you back and bring back my representatives on his return
trip.” He took another step, then a second, and now he was less
than a dozen yards away from her. Yet her aim remained solid.

“Atrilan...”

“What are you thinking?” she asked in a voice
he could barely hear.

“I’m thinking of how you felt in my arms
after you killed the ferret. I’m thinking about how you tasted. The
softness of your lips. About how I want to take you in my arms
again, and take you into my bed, and how I want keep you with me
for as long as you’re willing to stay with me, because I’ll take
whatever you’ll give me, Atrilan. For however long you’re willing
to remain.”

“I can’t go there and be just another one of
your mistresses,” she told him with a little shake of her head.
“I’m not like that. I can’t.”

“No. You’re not. I will never do that to
you.”

The arrow dipped a fraction of an inch, until
it no longer pointed at his stomach. In fact, Yulen knew it pointed
nowhere.

“What happens if I lose my skill?” she
whispered.

What if she lost that which had made him want
her in the first place? What if she lost her abilities along with
her virginity, as she’d been led to believe all these years? Yulen
knew she no longer cared. She was willing to give herself to him.
Her ultimate sacrifice. Bedding with the enemy. For what reason?
Why take the risk? Why even consider it?

“Atrilan, will you love me?”

She lowered her head, lowered her weapon, and
lowered her defenses. Yulen walked quickly over to her, pushing
aside the longbow as he pulled her against him and claimed her
mouth with his. Atty cried out softly as she dropped the weapon and
wrapped her arms around his neck.

He held her tightly, dimly aware of her
quivering beneath her cold, wet clothing. Her mouth burned as she
clung to him, wanting to melt into him. Defiant. Angry. Hungry for
his warmth and his strength and his kisses. Her fingers dove into
his hair to clutch his face, afraid to let go. Despite her
inexperience, Yulen responded to her naked need as he pressed her
against his own arousal with one hand, his other hand at her back
crushing her firm breasts to his chest.

Dimly in the back of his mind he reminded
himself he needed to be careful with her face. She wasn’t mended
from her attack, and wouldn’t be for a few more weeks. Gently he
released her, cupping her head and capturing her eyes with his.
They both were breathing hard, and as the air around them grew
colder with the coming night, they could see little puffs of steam
with their words.

“Come,” he leaned in and breathed against her
fresh, wet lips. She gave a slight movement of her head, then broke
away from his hands to reach down and retrieve her things. Yulen
took her free hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and guided her
away from the clearing, grabbing his discarded sword and belt along
the way.

They spoke no more as they left the forest.
Mastin’s eyes widened to see the Battle Lord leading the warrior
girl hand-in-hand through the thick brush. Silently Yulen hoisted
her into the saddle of his horse before handing her both their
weapons, then seated himself behind her. A quick jab from his heels
sent the stallion into a gallop, making the Second hard pressed to
keep up.