The Battle Lord's Lady (13 page)

Good heavens, what brought him to this?

Then again, MaGrath had also assured him she
was a fully developed woman and not a mere girl. So, why hadn’t she
attached herself to a man? If not physically, was there one back at
her home compound she’d pledged herself to emotionally?

Stick to the moment at hand, he growled to
himself.

But she was a Mutah. And wasn’t it a
well-known fact that Mutah tended to breed—

There you go again.
What is it going to take to wipe away everything
you’ve ever been taught about them? When are you going to realize
that for years you’d been fed some half-truths but mostly erroneous
information? And afterwards, when are you going to open up your
mind and start seeing things for what they really are?

Where would one begin to learn the truth? he
wondered, and his eyes trailed back to the woman bouncing along
beside him. What had her life been like? Were there others like
her? Other women warriors?

A comment, a phrase she had said. Something
about her being the only one willing to repel his men because the
rest couldn’t. Yulen shook his head. It was difficult to
concentrate. There was so much to do, so much to think about.

He saw the way his men watched her. They’d
grown tense and restless when they realized she was armed again.
But after seeing how their Battle Lord and the physician treated
her, despite her being their sworn enemy, they grudgingly allowed
the girl to roam without the urge to draw their swords.

It was impossible, however, to keep their
eyes from going back to the end of the line where sixteen of their
comrades and friends—some of them kin—awaited burial.

How would he ever convince those at Alta
Novis to accept her?

Even more disconcerting was the fact that he
would have to tell Madigan about her.

Yulen sighed, not realizing how loudly he’d
done so until Atty glanced over his way. “What?”

He turned back to her. “I said nothing.”

“Oh. Thought you had.”

He saw her reach for her face, and he
narrowed his eyes. “Are you in pain?”

The warrior girl let out an exasperated
sound. “Why are you and Liam constantly asking me if I’m in pain?
If I am, and it becomes intolerable, trust me, I’ll ask for
something to help me through it. Otherwise, leave me to my misery,
okay?”

Lifting a hand to show he understood, he kept
his eyes on the road even while his imagination ran along other
paths.

Maybe it was part of her culture not to give
herself to another until they had declared themselves. Or perhaps
she wasn’t allowed to give herself until she’d reached a certain
age.

His eyes swept sideways again. How old was
she, anyway? In her woven pants and leather vest and coat, it had
been impossible to tell she was even female at first. Not until
he’d run his hands over her chest and felt the firm give of her
breasts had they even known they were dealing with a woman.

It could be a warrior issue. Maybe she wasn’t
allowed any kind of sexual contact until she passed some kind of
initiation rite.

He was several yards past her when he
realized Atty had pulled up, stopping in the middle of the road.
Bringing his horse around, he started to call out to her when he
saw her face go completely white, her eyes like dark pools in her
face. Without a word Yulen threw up his arm, fist closed. Being the
precision troops they’d been trained to be, the entire line came to
a sudden, silent halt.

He kept his eyes glued on her until he could
detect where she was staring. Slowly, and with great caution, he
turned his head to the left. In the soft dirt he could barely make
out a set of tracks that disappeared into the dense undergrowth by
the side of the road. Turning back to her, he gave a tiny nod. Atty
saw it and nodded in response.

Like two halves of a whole, they each slowly
slid off their horses. When Yulen glanced back over to where she
would be, his sword already in his hand, he saw she’d also pulled
out her bow, her one last arrow already nocked, her arms lifted and
ready.

He looked to her for guidance, not knowing
who or what they were facing. Atty threw her eyes his way and
motioned with a languid tilt of her head. Straight ahead.

He approached from one side, her from the
other, the both of them cautiously entering the brush at an angle
from the prints that Yulen could clearly make out now but still was
unable to identify.

Atty lifted her face and directed him to
circle around to her left with a roll of her eyes. Yulen stepped
carefully, not making a sound even when his feet stepped through
the dry leaves and branches. He kept his sword up as he searched
every inch of the landscape surrounding him. Mere yards into the
woods, and they were swallowed up by the forest to the point where
it seemed they were the only two people left alive. The air around
them was thick with expectation. Neither a bird nor an insect
uttered a sound.

He’d lost sight of Atty, yet he knew without
a doubt she was close by. He was in her territory now. She was the
hunter—he, the hunted. There was something just beyond the next
tree, behind the next fallen log, something that threatened the
caravan as it passed by. There was no way he would believe that the
warrior girl had gone pale at the possibility of tracking more
game.

Three more steps, and he heard a soft
trilling off to his right. He turned carefully to begin heading
toward where the sound emanated when he was suddenly struck from
behind and slammed hard into the soft loam. A fetid odor
overwhelmed him, and Yulen instinctively rolled, keeping his sword
extended out beyond his body.

The sword struck something solid, and a
warmth trickled down his arm. Unable to see what he’d hit, Yulen
scrambled to his feet, raising his face to find Atty aiming her one
remaining arrow directly at him.

He froze, every pore in his body unable to
move as his eyes refused to leave the tip of the barb that was
pointed straight at his left eye. The arrow was fully cocked, and
he could see the strain in her arms as she held her position.

“Freeze,” she hissed.

For several heartbeats Yulen couldn’t think,
could barely breathe. An eye shot would lead directly to the brain,
causing instant death. He was in her world now, he reminded himself
again. She was the trained hunter. She could and would survive in
these woods until she could eventually make her way back to her
compound. How long his men would wait for them to emerge from the
forest edge, he had no idea. He doubted they would even be able to
find his body once she’d disposed of it. How clever of her to fake
something terrifying and threatening, just so she could lure him
unsuspecting into this dense jungle.

One arrow. That’s all she needed. With her
ability, Yulen had no doubt he would be dead before he could move
out of range, or even get his sword up high enough to deflect the
barbed metal tip.

He’d been an utter and absolute fool. Lost in
his own daydreams. Lost in the fanciful if not impossible hope that
there might have even been a chance that he...that she...

A bead of sweat rolled into his right eye,
stinging it with its warm saltiness. Unable to help himself, he
blinked to clear it away, still remaining riveted on the arrow not
eight feet away.

“Don’t...move...” she breathed, almost too
quietly to hear. Her head was tilted over the hand that was pulled
back. One clear eye sighted down the length of the shaft.

The arrow sang.

It passed so close to Yulen’s left ear the
fletching burned a tiny trail along his cheek. Behind him came a
muffled whoosh of sound, followed by a wet, plopping noise. Again,
the odor of something extremely putrid filled the air, overcoming
him with the smell. Yulen shuddered and dropped to his knees.
Somehow he managed to look over his shoulder to see what she had
hit, when he heard her scream his name, but it was too late. A huge
gout of greenish liquid arched overhead, landing on top of him.
Yulen ducked, but not before some of the warm pus splashed across
the wounded part of his face.

As the burning set in, Yulen fell to the
ground as he tried to wipe away the poison. He wasn’t even aware of
Atty coming to his aid until she batted aside his hands and began
pouring water into the partially-healed scar. The coolness was
soothing. Yulen kept his eyes tightly shut in case some of the
poison washed into them.

After what seemed like an eternity, the water
bag was emptied. Slowly Yulen opened his eyes to see her kneeling
beside him. She was breathing heavily as she stared down at him,
and he couldn’t fathom why until it struck him that she’d just
saved his life. Twice. The arrow had never been meant for him. And
now that it was all over, her body was finally reacting to the
situation. She was gasping from the rush of adrenalin as she
continued to watch him. Hoping he was all right. Hoping she’d
gotten all the poison off of him before his body had been given a
chance to absorb it through his open wound. Hoping she’d been in
time.

“Yulen?”

Without thinking, he reached up and grasped
her shoulders, drawing her down to him. Drew her down so he could
take her lips. Lips that were wet from being splashed with the same
cool lake water. Lips that never objected to the ones that sought
hers, but instead passed her heat back into him. Her hunger met
his, equaled his, and the onslaught of their newly-discovered
desire left them both breathless but wanting more, needing
more.

Releasing her right arm, he placed his free
hand behind her head, bringing her closer. Now she was lying across
him, her own hands entwined in his hair as her mouth answered his,
pressing and devouring with lips and tongue. Her breasts rubbed
against his chest, and faintly Yulen wondered how she would feel
naked against him. Her hips were directly over his groin. The need
to press his hardening length into her was too great to ignore.

He rolled over with her, pinning her to the
ground beneath him, and released her burning mouth to find the
silken length of her neck. His hips moved on their own, digging
into the juncture between her legs until she parted them. And then
he shoved himself even harder against the thin fabric, wanting her
to know how much she affected him. She whispered his name until she
could place little kisses under his ear where a tiny red line
marked the trail of the arrow.

It was the sound of many men trampling
noisily through the underbrush, calling for them, that finally
separated them. Shakily, Yulen got to his knees as Atty backed away
and slowly stood. Neither of them could look each other in the
face. Not just yet. Both their nerves and emotions had been raised
to fever pitch, and it would take a moment longer for them to
regain their breath and their sanity.

“
Yulen!
”

Of course, it would be MaGrath who reached
them first. “We heard the screaming! What—” His face blanched as he
caught sight of the creature cooling in death scant feet away. “Oh,
dearest mother on earth!” He choked, gagging, but kept his
dignity.

Another soldier helped Yulen to his feet, and
the Battle Lord turned around to see what Atty had managed to save
him from.

After the Great Concussion, when nature had
turned itself inside out to spawn creatures from the very bowels of
hell, many animals changed slightly. Some changed drastically. But
a rare handful were so grotesquely malformed and reshaped that
their resemblance to what they used to be was only a dream.

The animal that had tried to attack Yulen
might have been a ferret three centuries ago. Now it no longer
could be called anything remotely animalistic. Fur had been
replaced by huge, bleeding sores. Sores that acted like armor
plating, preventing the blade of a knife or sword from penetrating
the impossibly tough hide. The body had retained its long, slinky
shape, but it now measured a good ten feet from horned nose to the
tip of its spiked tail. The animal had mutated to where it bore two
venom-filled pouches on either side of its mouth, giving it the
ability to bite, poison, and swallow its prey in one simple sweep
of its extended neck. Prey that would find itself frozen rigid but
still cognizant by the time it reached the beast’s stomach and
digestive tract.

As another soldier nearby lost his lunch over
a batch of wild mushrooms, Yulen realized why Atty had held herself
in check for so long. She’d had the one arrow and no other chance
once that one was gone. So she had waited for the ferret to open
its mouth as it stalked him. Waited for that exact and only moment
when she could shoot the arrow into the animal’s maw, puncturing
one of the venom sacs before the projectile sent the creature’s own
poison into the depths of its brain. She’d screamed when the
ruptured sac had sprayed over them both, but in her foresight she’d
brought along the skin of water. Just in case.

She was the hunter. Yulen bowed to her
superiority. He could not begin to imagine what she had seen as the
horror slowly approached him from behind with its mouth
extending.

Clapping a hand to his friend’s shoulder,
Yulen let the physician lead him back to the road. His clothes were
sodden, and here and there flecks of the greenish ichor still clung
to them. Once he reached his horse, Yulen looked up to see where
Atty had gone, and was relieved to see MaGrath checking her over.
He saw her motioning his way, and presently the physician appeared
with another bag of water.

“Better let me clean out that cut again,
just for good measure.”

Nodding, Yulen closed his eyes and let the
physician do another wash. In their world, one could never take too
many precautions.

“How is she?” he asked softly, smoothing his
wet hair down against his skull.