The Battle Lord's Lady (28 page)

Opening her mouth to correct the man, she was
stunned into silence when he produced an arrow from his quiver and
dropped it at her feet. Directly behind him, another man stepped up
after his departure and also dropped a shaft at her feet. A third
soldier repeated the honor, followed by a fourth, a fifth, a
sixth... One by one, each member of the regiment presented her with
one of their own arrows, until a small pile lay in front of the
toes of her boots.

By the time the company had filed past the
couple, the crowd had dispersed from the hillside and from the top
of the compound’s walls, leaving the two of them alone. Atty
glanced down at the arrows and slowly shook her head. “Now what,
Yulen?” she asked him, still moved by their tribute, and still
filled with the adrenalin that was finally starting to recede from
her veins.

“You were right. But I admit, I was
worried.”

She laughed nervously. “Don’t tell anyone,
but so was I.” She bent over and picked up the bundle. Yulen took
them from her as she prepared to put them back in the barrel. “I
think I’ll keep this bow, if you don’t think the men will mind,”
she told him as he dumped the ammunition into the container
point-first.

Taking her hand, he gave her another loving
smile and squeezed her fingers gently. “Let’s go see what the main
hall is serving for lunch,” he suggested as they began down the
slope toward the compound walls. “I believe I owe you some
grapes?”

Atty nodded. Food was definitely the last
thing on their minds.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Accusation

“Sir!”

Yulen paused as they stepped through the
small side door and entered the compound. A soldier hurried up to
him and handed him a piece of paper. As the Battle Lord read the
note, Atty snuck up behind him and tried to read it over his
shoulder. Yulen glanced at her and gave her a smile. “Slight
delay,” he told her. “Official business, but nothing serious. Why
don’t you go ahead? I won’t be long.”

“Why don’t I meet you over where the grapes
are?” she suggested.

He nodded. “Five minutes.”

She smiled and continued down the walkway,
her fingers unconsciously trailing across various items as she
passed by the stalls. When she neared the small shack of the knife
smith, she was surprised to find him standing out in front watching
her, as if he’d been waiting for her to come by.

“Atty? May I call you Atty?”

Lifting an eyebrow at him, she stopped next
to his display of daggers. Her eye immediately went to where she
knew the Ballock hung. When she saw the empty space, a sense of
regret went through her before she kicked herself mentally.

“That was a phenomenal throw you showed us
earlier,” Cavender complimented her. “But I think the trick you did
with three arrows is what’s going to put you in the history
books.”

“Th-thank you,” she told him. “It was really
just a trick. Not very wise or usable in real combat.”

“Nevertheless, I wanted to give you this. You
deserve it, and you earned it today.” He held out a leather
scabbard to her. Without a doubt Atty knew what it was. Drawing the
dagger from its sheath, she couldn’t help but hold her breath as
she gazed at the perfection of the gleaming weapon that seemed to
fit in her palm as if it had been made to her specifications. The
highly polished hilt even felt warm to her touch.

“Cavender...this is,” she struggled. No one
had ever given her such a weapon before, and her mind was blank,
searching for the right thing to say to let him know how much she
appreciated it. “Thank you. Thank you so very much. But are you
sure you want to part with it?”

The knife smith shrugged and gave her a
lopsided smile. “In your hands, I know it’ll get the care it needs
to give you years of service. Besides, next time you show it off,
remember to let everyone know who made it.”

“You better believe I will,” she murmured,
turning the weapon in her palm. She balanced it point down on the
tip of her finger, again amazed by its craftsmanship. Sunlight
glanced off the blade, blinding her for a second. Atty blinked
against the glare. A split second later, she saw the reflection of
the object coming at her from behind. Too late to duck, she tried
to dive out of its path.

“
Murderer!
”

The scream rang in her ears before the blow
impacted with the side of her face. The shockwave of pain knocked
her to the ground, leaving Atty dazed and gasping for breath
against the piercing agony in her cheek, the same cheek Karv had
smashed days before.

She tried to get to her knees, but the earth
wouldn’t stay still beneath her long enough. It kept shifting and
throwing her off-balance, making her nauseous. The warm, metallic
taste of blood filled her mouth. Wincing, Atty spit it out and
lifted a hand to the blinding red heat that used to be her cheek
and jaw.

From somewhere hands gripped her under her
arms and helped her to her feet. Dimly she was aware of Yulen
coming to a halt beside her. There was a dark glitter of pure anger
in his eyes that frightened her as he turned on the woman standing
in the street who still held the heavy oak bucket she’d used to
strike Atty.

Reaching out, Atty snagged the sleeve of his
shirt, staying his arm from his weapons belt. “Yulen, no,” she
begged softly. Her tongue felt the looseness of one tooth in her
upper jaw. She spit out another gout of blood.

“Murderer!” the woman cried again. Tears
glistened on her face; her whole body trembled with rage. And fear.
She’d done the unthinkable, and now she knew, as everyone knew, she
would have to pay the price. But she no longer cared. “You killed
my husband!” she hissed at the Mutah woman, under the Battle Lord’s
black glare.

“I’m...sorry,” Atty managed to say. Dimly she
wondered who was holding her up, since Yulen had placed his body in
front of her to shield her and prevent the woman from inflicting
any more harm.

“You’re
sorry
?”

“Danna, go home,” Yulen ordered in a soft but
threatening voice.

The woman turned to the Battle Lord.
Her body now shook uncontrollably as she realized there would be no
retaliation. “Go home?” she repeated incredulously. “Go home
to
what?
How
dare
you, sir! How dare you tell me
to go home, when you have this...this...” She pointed a finger in
Atty’s direction. There was no mistaking the disgust on her face or
the hatred in her voice.

Two soldiers ran up to offer their
assistance. Yulen broke his gaze away from the woman long enough to
order one of them to fetch MaGrath. Atty saw her reflection in his
eyes, and it wasn’t pretty.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” he asked her
under his breath.

“Sir, want me to escort Mrs. Abalam back to
her home?” the second soldier inquired.

Atty lifted her hand. “No,” she managed,
surprised she still had the ability to think. “No. Let her have her
say.” A lock of hair fell over her shoulder. A streak of blood
coated the ends, trailing a vivid red stain across the front of her
white shirt.

Shakily, Atty managed to stand on her own. It
was then she noticed who was holding her around the waist. Giving
the knife smith a nod, she waited until Cavender stepped away
before facing the woman again.

“Okay. What is it you want to say to me?”
Atty asked. “Speak freely.”

But by now the brunt of the widow’s anger had
vanished, drained away after the attack. Atty understood the loss
the woman was experiencing. If circumstances had been different, if
Yulen had been the one to fall in combat, she knew she definitely
would have lashed out at the person responsible.

“You don’t belong here,” the woman finally
said through her tears. “I don’t care if your bow can conquer the
entire eastern coast. You’ll never belong here. Every day I see you
I’m going to be reminded why my husband is no longer with me. Every
cold night in bed, every empty place at the table...because of
you.”

The woman stared at Yulen. “And
you!
One of your own kind wasn’t good
enough for you anymore?”

In answer, Yulen reached out and pulled the
bucket out of her hands.

The crowd that had gathered to witness the
aftermath now parted to let in MaGrath and the soldier who’d gone
for him. Atty heard his quick intake of breath as he caught sight
of her face, and she lowered her head.

“Who did this?” the physician demanded, his
eyes raking the market area as he reached toward Atty’s face to
assess the damage. To his shock, she waved away his hands.

“No, Liam.”

“Atty, you weren’t yet healed completely from
the your last attack,” he admonished her.

Taking a step back, Atty closed her eyes and
reiterated, “No, Liam.” Already she could feel a dull puffiness
around one eye as the swelling set in.

“Atty.”

Her eyes snapped open to see Yulen staring
intently at her.

“I have never before given you a direct
order. Now, I am. Let Liam examine you.”

MaGrath nodded. “I may need to reset a bone.”
He reached out again. Atty took a wobbly step backwards, bumping
into Cavender.

“I’m going inside to get a cold compress,”
she informed MaGrath. “Yulen, promise me you won’t seek any kind of
retribution in my name. She’s suffered enough.”

“Atty...”

“Promise me.”

Yulen sighed. “My word.”

Bowing her head, Atty started for the side
door of the main lodge, pausing for a moment to accept her dagger
from its maker, who had rescued it from where she’d dropped it in
the dirt. Giving him another word of thanks, she managed to exit
the walkway without assistance.

A full minute of silence passed as the crowd
came to understand what had happened. Yulen felt his original anger
fading as it was replaced by a deep sense of disappointment and
sadness. He finally broke the stillness to turn to the
physician.

“You told me to let her meet the
people. You almost had me convinced they might accept her after
they talked to her and got to see what she was like,” he said
bitterly, directing his comments more toward himself than at
MaGrath. “Well, you were wrong, weren’t you? She could spend the
rest of her life protecting this compound, and for what? They’ll
never accept her. They’ll never get to know
who
she is. They’ll only see
what
she is.” Ramming his sword back into the
scabbard from where he’d half-way drawn it before Atty had stopped
him, Yulen turned and headed for the main lodge.

Cold, overwhelming anger boiled up inside
MaGrath’s chest. He’d sworn to dedicate his life helping others,
even when the injuries they incurred were from means he personally
detested. The attack on Atty, while not unexpected, was
unquestionably brutal. It was also unforgivable, despite Atty’s
insistence. She may have asked the Battle Lord not to intervene,
but she had not made him give such a promise.

Around him the crowd began to disperse, now
that the drama was over, and their callousness became the last
straw.

“What was done here today,” he began, “was
the most hateful, the most disgraceful, and the most disgusting
thing I have ever seen in all my years as a physician.”

The undisguised fury in his voice made them
pause and turn back. MaGrath was not a man of emotion, and he
rarely, if ever, addressed them as a whole. Silently they gave him
their full attention.

Pointing a finger at the woman who had
started it, he gritted his teeth to keep from saying the first
thing that came to mind. “Do you think you are the only person in
the world to suffer?” he finally asked her acidly. “Do you think
the Battle Lord isn’t aware of what happened? Do you think
he
enjoyed
laying sixteen of
his men to rest? Men with families and loved ones whom he
personally knew?”

“She killed those men, and then he brings her
here and expects us to welcome her with open arms,” a voice from
the back called out.

“He took her to his bed, and now he wants to
marry her!” another commented.

The crowd shuffled their feet but remained
gathered.

MaGrath nodded, fighting back tears.

“Very well. I can see you already have
your minds made up. But before you go back to your homes to lick
your wounds and pat yourselves on the back for showing the Mutah
woman how much braver and fearless and
superior
you are to her, allow me a few more
words. Allow me to tell you some things you’ve never known...until
now.

“Two weeks ago our advance party smelled wood
smoke and food cooking over an open pit. They followed the scent
deep into the woods, well away from the main road. They found a
Mutah compound hidden in the densest part of the forest,
camouflaged so well they almost ran into it before they knew what
it was. They sent back a man to let the Battle Lord know what
they’d found, and he ordered a phalanx of men to go ahead and
attack the compound while he and the rest of his soldiers followed
behind as back-up. Standard procedure.

“Our soldiers beat down their gates and
entered the compound. And once they were inside they began to
slaughter every man, woman, and child inside.”

MaGrath paused to get a grip on himself. If
he allowed his anger and sadness to overcome him, he would never be
able to face these people again. These people, whom he’d sworn to
serve the rest of his life. Clenching his fists at his side, he
continued.

“Have you ever witnessed the total
extermination of a species? There’s no mercy. No justice. No
thought as to how much pain you can inflict upon another sentient
being, and that’s what Atty’s people were. Sentient beings. Living,
breathing, loving, learning, laughing, crying beings who planted
crops, made soap and candles, and protected one another to the best
of their ability.