Every Battle Lord's Nightmare

by Linda Mooney

  She grinned. “If you’re thinking my experiences there dredge up bad memories, they don’t. I don’t mind talking about what I saw, or what I can remember.” Atty touched the visible scar on the side of her head where most of the damage had occurred when her head had been slammed against the tree. Fortunately, it didn’t hurt anymore when she pressed it. “But being uncomfortable is a good thing, Warren. It keeps me on edge. Keeps me sharp.”

  “Keeps you wary,” he added. She started to smile in agreement when he caught sight of something ahead of them. He motioned toward the front. “Yulen is signaling for you to join him.”

  Atty thanked him and kneed her mare. She passed Mastin, who moved behind the battle lord. From the corner of her eye, she caught Paas also advancing forward until she stopped beside the second. Without checking, she knew the troops would have Twoson well-wrapped.

  They traveled more slowly down the wide, paved avenue. People lined the streets and stared at them in wide-eyed amazement. With little exception, the crowd was quiet as the troops passed by.

  The roadway opened up into a large circular courtyard where several men were watching them from a raised platform. Yulen softly informed her, “The man with the gray hair and beard is LeGreen.”

  Atty narrowed her eyes as she studied the figure. LeGreen was of average build and height. Despite his full head of silvery hair, and the neck-length beard that was almost the same shade, the battle lord’s face was devoid of age.

  “How old is he?” she murmured back.

  “He’s got to be in his sixties.”

  “He could pass for a man twenty years younger,” she remarked. She was also aware of the younger blond man standing directly behind and to his left. By the intense, almost feral expression on the man’s face, she deduced he must be LeGreen’s second in command.

  “Who’s the mad guy behind him? Is he the second?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They spoke no more until they reached the courtyard, which was paved like the roadway with smaller version of those earthen bricks. Yulen gestured for her to remain on her horse as he dismounted.

  LeGreen smiled broadly, his thumbs hooked into his weapons belt. “Yulen D’Jacques. It has been too long since you were last here. I got word about your father’s death. My condolences. He was a good battle lord.”

  Yulen advanced closer to the man and held out a hand. LeGreen stepped down from the platform, and the two men clasped arms in greeting.

  “Thank you for this opportunity,” Yulen remarked. “I take it you will be attending the summit, too?”

  Rather than answer, LeGreen cast an eye toward the platoon. “This nasty weather makes my bones creak. Let’s take this inside the main lodge where we can discuss it.” He waved at the soldiers. “Brickman, see the battle lord’s men to their quarters.” An eyebrow rose, and he glanced at Yulen. “I see you’ve brought your Mutah whores. I don’t begrudge you one bit for that decision, considering how long this trip will take you. Come, come. You can bring them inside with you.”

  The man turned to lead them toward the massive brick structure sitting to one side of the courtyard. Yulen returned to where Atty had already gotten down from her saddle. Together, they waited for Paxton, Mastin, and the others to join them.

  “Mutah whores?” Paxton repeated almost scathingly.

  Yulen immediately hushed him. “While we are here, you will see and hear things you won’t like. Not might. Will. But we can’t afford for you to comment about them, or take any action. Not unless there is a clear threat to our safety. Do we all understand? No one is to start an argument, or even remark on what someone else says. I don’t doubt they’ll try to see how far they can push before we push back. And since we’re guests, they’ll be very coy about it. But we can’t afford to cause any animosity. Not now, and definitely not when we reach Rocky Gorge.”

  “Are you saying you expect us to button our lips and sit on our swords, and let them trash us?” Renken remarked.

  Yulen clenched his jaw. “If that’s what you must do, yes. Unless they try to physically harm us, keep your weapons and your tempers sheathed. That’s an order. Mastin, go with the men. Tell them what I’ve just told you. Then come let me know where they’re being bunked.”

  Batuset concurred and ordered Tabb to do the same. Both seconds nodded and hurried to join the men who were being led away. No one made any further comment. Grabbing Atty’s hand, Yulen started down the short path toward the main lodge. Atty gave him a scathing glance, which he noticed.

  “What? Do you sense something?”

  “Not at the moment. But I was wondering why you would allow LeGreen and his men to think I’m your whore.” She made sure her words sounded as bitter as she felt. The comment stung him, as was evident by the way he clenched his jaws again.

  “Heed my warning, Atty. Until I know LeGreen’s politics, we have to play this close to the vest. We’re vastly outnumbered here, and any little skirmish or disagreement could land us in his dungeon, which I’m certain still exists. Let me do the talking, understand? Please.”

  She continued to glare at him, but when she saw his plea soften his blue-gray eyes, she relented. “All right. I’ll go along with this little charade. For now,” she added.

  He gave her his thanks by gently squeezing her hand.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Politics

  The interior of LeGreen’s main lodge was as imposing as Atty thought it would be. It seemed the battle lord had a thing for ancient and medieval décor. In one corner next to the fireplace stood a full suit of armor. Large, intricately-stitched tapestries covered the brick walls, and banners hung from the domed ceiling. The most predominant one was the solid gray rectangular one displayed above…

  Atty paused. She had never seen a real throne before, but there was no mistaking the high-backed chair with its oversized arm rests and wide seat. The throne was made of metal, complete with elaborate scrollwork on the arms and back. She could see the wall behind it through the serpentine-like pattern. A dark gray pillow covered the seat. All in all, the chair was a masterpiece of artwork. It was also the most frightening thing she’d ever seen.

  LeGreen gestured for them to join him at a table near the fireplace. Like the throne, the table and chairs were constructed of brick and metal. Even the multi-tiered chandeliers suspended overhead were metal. She glanced around as Yulen tugged on her hand to sit. For all the ornate workmanship, she could not see any wood anywhere. Not even burning in the fireplace. It took her another moment to realize what fueled the flames. Coal.

  “Take a seat,” LeGreen offered. “Bastion, order the kitchen to bring us drinks.” He turned his back on them and ascended the short dais to park himself on the throne. Strategically, it not only placed the battle lord physically above them, but psychologically as well. It was an effective way for the man to show his dominance over them.

  The angry blond man murmured something in obeisance, and strode out of the room. Atty took note of the nearly invisible doorway where he disappeared. Here, in a strange and potentially dangerous new environment, it was always wise to know where the exits were located, in the event she had to make a quick getaway.

  Presently, Bastion re-entered through the same doorway. Following him were three servants, all dressed in gold-trimmed, dark gray uniforms similar to what LeGreen’s soldiers wore. The servants carried large circular trays filled with mugs. She noticed how one servant first served LeGreen, then stepped down and approached them to hand Yulen a mug. But instead of giving Atty one, she presented the tray to her, making it clear she was to reach for her own. The action made her simmer inside. These people didn’t want to make any kind of contact with her. She started to take a mug when Yulen calmly grabbed one for her. The servant gave the battle lord a sharp look but said nothing, and continued around the table. She watched as Fortune followed Yulen’s lead, taking a mug for Paas and Twoson, even after being given one personally. As she’d hoped, without his long tail to give
him away as Mutah, the hunter was able to pass as Normal.

  “So, D’Jacques. You’ve gotten to be quite the celebrity. Word gets around,” LeGreen remarked. After a swig from his mug, he nodded at Atty. “I take it that’s the little Mutah bitch you married.”

  “Her name is Atty, and she’s the Battle Lady of Alta Novis,” Yulen answered calmly, laying a hand on her thigh as a silent reminder not to be drawn into a verbal sparring match.

  Atty sniffed her drink. It was home brew, and potent. Quietly, she set the container on the table, but her action wasn’t missed.

  “What’s the matter? My hospitality not good enough for you?” LeGreen challenged in a soft but peeved voice.

  “It’s beer.” She told him. Since he’d addressed her directly, she could finally open her mouth.

  The battle lord rephrased the question. “My beer not good enough for you?”

  Automatically, her hand went to her belly. Even though the table was too high, and shielded her condition, she was surprised that LeGreen hadn’t noticed it before now. Again, Yulen answered for her.

  “Your beer is superb, Don. It’s the fact that our physician has made Atty swear off alcohol until after the baby is born. Would you have some milk?”

  “Baby?” The word was blurted out with undisguised contempt. “Good God, D’Jacques. Fucking them is one thing. Procreating is another. Who knows what kind of monstrosity will come squirting out of her?”

  A sense of déjà vu swept over her. The words were eerily similar to what Madigan had said when Yulen introduced her as his intended. It took the battle lord’s mother a while to finally accept her, once she’d seen the power of their love, and how it changed Yulen from the dark, depressed, and almost suicidally-driven man he’d been since his father’s death.

  “Actually, we already have a son. His name is Mattox. And before you ask, yes. He’s Mutah. He’s also very strong and intelligent. Would you have some milk she can drink instead?”

  LeGreen gave a servant a nod, who hurried off to fetch the milk. When the battle lord turned back to Yulen and opened his mouth to speak, Yulen went on as if the man had said nothing amiss.

  “You haven’t answered my question. Are you attending the summit in Rocky Gorge?”

  LeGreen took another swig. His eyes remained glued on Atty as he answered. “Yes, I’ll be attending.” He finally looked at the battle lord. “To be honest, I was waiting for you to arrive so I could accompany you.”

  “For what reason?”

  Atty smiled inwardly. Yulen was playing blunt for blunt. She wondered if LeGreen was aware of it.

  “To pick your brain, D’Jacques. Alton told me he was inviting you. When his envoy arrived on their way back, they told me you’d accepted. You know this entire conference wouldn’t have come about in the first place if you hadn’t initiated those initial treaties between Normals and Mutah.”

  “How many battle lords did Highcliff invite? Do you know?”

  LeGreen swiveled his head around to where Batuset sat. “I’m sorry. And you are?” The man’s tone continued to rankle. Apparently he’d thought everyone at the table who were members of Yulen’s party were also under his command. But Atty also realized no one had actually introduced themselves.

  “Zane Batuset, Battle Lord of Foster City. Care to let me know who my host is?”

  Atty smiled to herself. It was a roundabout way of letting LeGreen know he’d been remiss, without outright accusing him of being rude.

  LeGreen smiled and sat up straighter. “My name is Don LeGreen. My second, Seth Bastion, whom you’ve already met.” He motioned toward the young blond man standing in the shadows at the rear of the room. Glancing down the table, he studied each face in turn. “Is there anyone else I need to acknowledge?” It was an open question, allowing for anyone to answer.

  Twoson sat up straighter in his chair. “My name is Twoson Pike. I’m head of council and representative of the Mutah compound called Wallis.”

  “Wallis? Never heard of it. Where’s it located? Between here and Alta Novis?”

  Atty saw the Mutah glance at Yulen. Her husband smoothly diverted the question with one of his own.

  “This place is bigger than I remember. Must be a handful to run. My compound’s also seen a growth spurt the past couple of years. Fortunately, New Bearinger is taking the overflow.”

  “New Bearinger? Is that what you named it after you killed Collaunt?”

  Again, Yulen sidestepped the question, refusing to reveal the fact that it was Atty who’d killed the man. “Actually, after the Bloods burned it to the ground, I had it rebuilt on the other side of the road. The old compound’s ruins will remain where it originally was built to honor those who gave their lives.”

  The servant returned with a mug of milk. He set it on the table instead of handing it to her. Regardless, Atty thanked the man. Everyone watched the interplay in silence. After taking a sip of the still warm, frothy drink, Atty took advantage of it. “Our physician, Dr. Fergus Thrasher, would like to speak to your physician.”

  “Why?” One word, blunt and challenging.

  Atty wiped her mouth, then lifted her chin. She didn’t know if the man was acting that way because of her request, or because she’d been the one to speak out.

  “It’s common courtesy where we’re from. Two doctors, trading experiences and remedies. Your compound would benefit from Dr. Thrasher’s knowledge, as would ours.” It was difficult to keep a civil tone.

  LeGreen swirled his drink, his gaze rooted on her. After a few moments of silence, he cleared his throat. “Very well. That makes sense. Bastion, escort their doctor over to Tridor’s office. Let the doctor know why he’s being visited.”

  “Warren, please go with the doctor in case he needs any assistance,” Yulen ordered. Paxton looked at Atty, clearly not happy with having to leave her side. “She’ll be right beside me,” Yulen assured him with a softer tone.

  For the second time, LeGreen’s second gave a slight bow and waited by the front doors for the physician and Paxton to accompany him. Thrasher gave Atty a curt nod and followed the man out.

  “You’re too soft on your men,” LeGreen commented.

  “Speaking of trading knowledge,” Yulen continued, ignoring the man’s previous remark. “I’d forgotten that you don’t have a forest to provide you with wood or big game. How do you manage to feed so many people?”

  “And why would that information benefit you, D’Jacques? You seem to have it good down where you’re located. Lots of game. Mutah at your beck and call.”

  Atty felt Yulen’s involuntarily clench his fist where it still rested on her thigh. Yet his voice remained calm.

  “Unfortunately, in recent years the Bloods have killed off most of the game. It’s been a struggle to feed everyone, even after sending our best hunters outside the compound to find food. Anything you can share might help us make it through the rougher months.”

  “Who are the Bloods?”

  “They’re the most extreme version of Mutah,” Yulen explained. “I’ve discovered there are two kinds of Mutah. There are those, like my wife and Mr. Pike, who show some varying degree of mutation. Their differences range, but all in all they resemble Normals. But Bloods have deviated far beyond that. Their changes are shocking, and their appearance are more bestial than human. They’re also extremely vicious and cannibalistic.”

  “Aren’t all Mutah vicious and cannibalistic?”

  “No. Mutah are peaceful. They’re hunters and farmers and gatherers, not antagonistic. For the longest time I believed Mutah killed my father, but I discovered I was wrong. Bloods killed him. Bloods also attack Mutah compounds. They do not discriminate.”

  LeGreen finished off his beer, belched lightly, then leaned forward, resting his arms on the chair’s. “It’s no big secret, D’Jacques. Oka City is a major hub on the trade routes. We’re centered directly where north and south cross the east-west road. So we get fresh fruits and vegetables. We also get meat brought in. We
also have a few gardens and some groves we cultivate.”

  He started to say more, when Mastin and Tabb re-entered the room. As Batuset’s second went over to report to him, Mastin hurried directly to Yulen. Bending over, he had Atty and the battle lord lean in so they both could hear his whisper.

  “We have news.”

  She felt her skin tighten at the urgency in his voice.

  Yulen curtly nodded, thanking him. At the same time, a servant from the kitchen emerged from the back room, paused several feet away, and cleared her throat for attention. LeGreen threw her a caustic look. However, the woman didn’t appear undaunted, making Atty believe this was the battle lord’s usual attitude toward the help.

  “Dinner will be ready within the hour, m’lord.”

  Yulen took the announcement as their opportunity to end their talk. Getting to his feet, he held out his hand to Atty, helping her to rise.

  “My wife and I would be grateful if you would have someone show us to our room. We’d like to wash the dust off before we sit down to eat.”

  LeGreen took his time to make a decision. Atty wondered if the battle lord resented having someone give him suggestions or orders, or anything that resembled a request.

  “Bastion?”

  “Yes, m’lord.” The second stepped out of the shadows at the rear of the room where he’d been standing.

  “Are the guest rooms ready?”

  “Yes, m’lord.”

  LeGreen slowly stood. “I’ve enjoyed our conversation, D’Jacques. Let’s continue this during dinner.” Without waiting for Yulen to agree or disagree, the man dismissed them with a wave of his hand, stood up, and walked behind the throne where he seemingly disappeared through the wall, between two hanging tapestries.

  “Come on, Atty.” Yulen threaded his fingers through hers. “Let’s find out what alerted Cole.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Girded