by Linda Mooney
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 po
ison 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.
“You’re damn lucky,” MaGrath breathed softly. “Too damn lucky. If we hadn’t had her with us, there’s no telling what kind of damage that thing could have done.”
“I asked, how is she?” Yulen repeated. His words stung.
“Shaken, but otherwise okay.” He sniffed. “The stench of that thing still surrounds the both of you.”
Yulen agreed. Once they reached Foster City, the first thing he wanted to do was take a hot bath and get a clean set of clothing. He glanced over to where Atty was leaning heavily against her horse. She was drained, he could tell. Yet she deserved as much when they arrived there, if not more. A lot more.
His lips could still feel the pressure of hers. His hands tingled with the memory of her skin. The ache he had felt between his legs echoed with the ghost of passion.
When they reached Foster City, he swore to himself he would finally get to see the glory of her deep blue hair.
Quietly he strode over to where she stood with her eyes closed, her face pressed to the leather, her hands clutching the edges of the saddle. As he placed his hands around her slender waist, she started, turning to see who was behind her. Their eyes locked for a moment, then she lowered her face and placed one boot into the stirrup. Yulen helped her up into the saddle, then grabbed the reins before stepping away. Atty looked down at him, waiting.
“Stay beside me,” he whispered so only she could hear. Slowly she nodded.
Stay beside me. Yulen hoped she understood what he really meant. That it wasn’t an order, but a request. A plea. Stay beside me, riding together, at the head of the line...
And then...stay beside me long after we’ve reached our destination.
Stay beside me.
They would reach Foster City tomorrow. Until then...
Chapter Fifteen
Admission
They pitched camp soon after dusk as it was never safe to move at night. Yulen checked on his men to make sure everything was still going as smoothly as possible, despite recent events. Several of the soldiers expressed their concern and gratitude over the close call he’d had with the ferret. One even ventured so far as to give the warrior girl credit for seeking it out and destroying it before it could attack them. That small concession gave Yulen heart.
MaGrath was sitting at his fire when he finally returned. The physician stood as he approached, hands on his hips. “We were expecting you to come eat with us,” MaGrath commented.
“I had to check on my men first.”
“I know.”
Yulen paused, then snorted softly. “Really, Liam. I’m exhausted. Perhaps tomorrow, once we reach Foster City.”
“No can do,” the man shook his head. “She’s on her last legs as well, but she’s expecting to see you.” He gave the Battle Lord a piercing look. “Something happened back there, and I can’t quite put my finger on it, but the dynamics between the two of you have changed. I don’t know if it’s for the better or for the worse, but I’m caught in the middle of it. You haven’t eaten since early this morning, so as your doctor I’m ordering you to come to my fire for something to fill you up.” He gave a grin. “She even found some wild onions to go with that squirrel.”
Yulen stretched, relenting, and let MaGrath lead the way to where he was settled for the night.
The first thing he noticed was that the wide bandage that had covered the one side of her face had been removed. MaGrath even commented on it.
“Time for her scabs to see the light of day. Once they fall away on their own, hopefully there shouldn’t be too much scarring. Of course, it’ll be another couple of weeks before her cheekbone is completely knitted.”
Yulen stopped dead in his tracks as cold guilt seized him. He had been so intent on claiming her kisses, he’d totally forgotten about the extent of her injuries. Lowering his gaze, he took a seat on the ground before the fire and crossed his legs before MaGrath’s never-miss-a-thing eyes saw his hesitation and asked more probing questions.
The squirrel smelled tempting. Dripping fat hissed in the fire as the carcass roasted on the spit. Yulen noticed that the warrior girl had removed her heavy leather outerwear and the furred sweater, just as he had also doffed his ruined jerkin. Now she had on a simple sleeveless blouse of a nondescript color. Another stab of guilt passed through him as he realized they’d taken her away from the compound without a single personal possession except for the longbow and quiver. At least he’d had another shirt in his saddlebags.
From the moment he approached the fire they had not locked eyes. For once Yulen was thankful for MaGrath’s easygoing banter to fill the awkward void. He watched as Atty shredded the meat, adding some of the small onions and greens she’d stuffed in the animal before handing him a trencher. Their fingers brushed for a second, and she finally looked up at him. The expression he saw there was enough to bring a smile to one corner of his mouth.
“So, I guess we have to add the title of cook to your list of accomplishments,” he teased.
“Sometimes a hunter has to be able to cook what he’s captured, or the meat could go to waste before he can get it back to the compound, and the hunt would be for naught, don’t you agree?” Her words were sharp, but Yulen saw the twinkle in the depth of her gaze.
“Agreed, which is why you’ve piqued my curiosity. How would you have cooked that ferret back down the road? I don’t think a spit’s been made to hold a carcass that size.”
“Then we would do what we did for the badger. Or have you forgotten so soon?”
MaGrath grinned. “Ah, she got you there, Yulen. Dig a pit to roast it in, is that what you mean?”
Atty tilted her head over her own plate. “Actually, now that I think of it, we may have been too hasty leaving the animal behind.”
Yulen paused, a bite halfway to his mouth. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Only the head held the venom. And it died before any of it got into its bloodstream. Damn.” It was clear that she was angry with herself. What had begun as light fun had turned into serious consideration. “How stupid could I have been?” she berated herself softly.
“What do you mean?” Yulen asked, suddenly attentive.
“We could have tried the meat. There’s not that many animals we’ve found that aren’t palatable. And even if its meat had turned out to be too strong to stomach, there was still the venom. Damn! Can you imagine how toxic my arrows could have been with the barbs dipped in that thing’s poison?”
“We’re not going back to retrieve any part of that creature,” Yulen told her.
She nodded. “I understand. Maybe next time.”
“Oh, sweet heavens, let’s hope there’s not a next time!” MaGrath exclaimed before leaning over the fire to carve himself another portion. Yulen glanced up to see Atty watching him, but now her eyes were hooded, the damaged side of her face mostly shadowed by the fire in the deepening night. He continued to stare at her, his eyes lingering over the curve of her cheek and the softness of her lips, before he
realized how beautiful she was. Despite her injuries and swollen nose, she had a strong profile.
“—when we get to Foster City?” MaGrath asked him.
“Pardon?” Yulen started, unaware he’d been asked a question.
The physician smiled but kept his observation to himself. “What’s the first thing you plan to do when we get to Foster City?” he repeated.
“Dunk myself in the hottest bath with the strongest bar of soap they make,” he laughed. Immediately he winced. The scar wasn’t quite set. His hand went to the gash and realized he’d opened it once again. MaGrath sighed and reached behind him for a clean cloth from his saddlebags to hand it over.
“Thanks.” Yulen held it to his face. For some reason the burning sensation felt good. It centered him and gave him a strong sense of the here and now. He was only vaguely aware of the physician getting to his feet.
“You two have done your duty for the day. Now it’s time I earned my keep and check to see if any of the men are needing my attention. Will you be all right until I get back?” he pointedly asked the Battle Lord.
Yulen waved him on. The physician laughed softly, then grabbed his quilled leather bag containing his medicines and walked off, leaving the two of them alone.
Yulen glanced at the cloth. There was a thin smear of blood on it. He pressed the cloth back against the wound and sighed. He glanced up and saw the warrior girl watching him. “Talk to me,” he said in a low voice.
She tilted her head in a way he now knew was a habit she had whenever she was thinking. “What were you thinking when I had you freeze back there?”
There was too much that had happened between them now for him to give her any other answer except the truth. “I thought you were going to kill me,” he replied bluntly. To his surprise, she seemed to expect his answer.
“Because you still think of me as the enemy,” she said flatly.