by Linda Mooney
Chapter Thirty-Six
Evil
Atty allowed Collaunt’s men to take her from the cell to the main hall, but not before she demanded her boots back.
“If I cut my feet on the rough stone and those cuts get infected, who do you think is going to have to face Collaunt’s anger?” she’d spat at them. It was only a short wait before one of the soldiers returned from heaven knew where and threw her the footwear. And, amazingly, they were willing to wait that extra couple of minutes it took for her to hurriedly lace them up. Once she was done, though, they were just as rough handling her as they’d always been.
It didn’t matter anymore. There was an aching soreness between her legs and below her belly, a throbbing heat that wouldn’t go away. Except for that, she would have thought the past few minutes had been nothing more than a dream.
Now we’re making love.
She remembered the pain, the brilliant flash of burning agony that had cut into her, slicing her apart. She’d never believed it could hurt so much, but now it was in the past. Gone and hopefully soon forgotten...except for that last part. The slow part. The unbelievably delicious feelings that had come over her as he filled her and moved inside of her while he murmured her name.
Now we’re making love.
She stumbled against a table jutting away from the corridor wall. One of the guards grabbed her by the arm and half-led, half-carried her in case she’d done it on purpose.
The main hall was so brightly lit, as opposed to the dim near-darkness of the cell, Atty had to squint until her vision could adjust. There were at least fifty or more people scattered around the room. All of them had been partaking of food and drink, as if they’d been invited to a party.
“Guards, how is her health?” a familiar voice boomed to her right. Collaunt sat in his chair near the fireplace. He wore a robe of green velvet and a tight, malicious smile.
“Adequate,” the guard behind her answered.
“Has she been under watch this entire time?”
“Yes, sir.”
Liar, a little voice in her head said, but Atty remained silent.
Nodding pleasantly, Collaunt lifted his mug of whatever he was drinking and took a sip. “Guards! Bring in the prisoners!” Giving Atty another oily smile, the Battle Lord said, “I’m going to enjoy the festivities. I think you’re going to find them a bit...entertaining...as well.”
Atty’s eyes locked on the doors at the far end of the room, hoping, praying. What seemed like an eternity, the doors finally opened, and a fully armed escort dragged in their new prisoners. Her heart sank. She knew he had told her it was part of their plan, but somehow she’d wished they could have found another solution.
“Isn’t this an interesting turn of events?” Collaunt commented almost nonchalantly. “Not only do we get to have the pleasure of D’Jacques’ company, but we also get to be intimately introduced to his Mutah whore as well,” he informed the crowd.
“We entered under the flag of truce!” MaGrath yelled. A vein stood out in his forehead, pulsing from anger.
“You entered my compound, therefore you trespassed,” Collaunt replied. “In Bearinger, trespassers are hung. Which is why...” His voice trailed away as he turned back to Atty. His eyes flickered momentarily behind her, and Atty glanced over her shoulder to see four heavily-muscled, half-naked men standing at attention against the wall. They were watching her with undisguised expectation. A shiver of fear ran through her as she remembered what Yulen had told her. Those men had been specially selected to deflower her should she still be intact. There was no doubt in her mind that Collaunt had ordered them to make the act as brutal and as degrading as they could.
“Pastern!”
From one end of the room, the little physician emerged from a small huddle of people. “Sir?” he addressed the Battle Lord.
“I want you to examine the Mutah woman and tell us if she’s still a virgin.”
Pastern glanced at Atty, then back at Collaunt. “Here? Now?”
Collaunt scowled. “Yes, here and now! Guards! Strip her!”
“Wait!” Pastern held up his hand and looked around at the varying looks of shock and disgust evident on the faces of the people in the room. “Show her some modicum of decency, sir, even if she is a Mutah! Give us a curtain.”
Collaunt also noticed the people’s mute disapproval. For once he backed down. “All right. Use one of the tablecloths.”
Atty’s eyes locked on the blue-gray ones staring back at her as two guards each grabbed one of her arms. She forced her mind to focus on their few moments they’d had together, on the warmth of his hands on her chilled skin, the way he’d stretched himself over her to keep away the cold, how he’d tried to make the difficult transition as easy as possible. Her memories were the only way she could keep her sanity at that moment.
A tablecloth was pulled from an empty table, and two more guards held it up to chest level. Pastern retreated behind the thin shield and proceeded to undo her pants. He pulled them down to her knees, then reached up between her legs with one hand.
Another flash of pain overtook her, and she gasped from the intensity, biting her lips, unable to stop herself. Yulen struggled briefly against the ropes that were cutting off the circulation in his hands.
Pastern emerged, wiping his hands on the corner of the material. “She’s lost her maidenhead, but it’s been recently. The tear’s still fresh,” he loudly announced.
A look of disappointment came over Collaunt’s face. “Aww. That’s too bad. What did you use, Mutah? A stick? A rock fragment? Did you entice one of my guards?”
“Go to hell,” Atty muttered.
“Oh, but not before I have a great time here first,” Collaunt chuckled. He made a motion with his hand, and to Atty’s immense relief the four would-be rapists exited the hall.
“Okay, you’ve managed to deprive me of one spectacle, but the Battle Lord has been generous enough to provide me with the opportunity to prove another point. Ladies! Gentlemen! Let’s move this party to the courtyard where I’m sure you’ll find the next activity to be quite entertaining!”
Atty’s guards escorted her out into the yard adjacent to the main hall. She searched the crowd of men and women who had followed them outside, but she couldn’t see where they’d taken Yulen or MaGrath.
Collaunt casually walked up to where she was being kept restrained. He snapped his fingers, and a servant came running up behind him to drop something in his waiting palm. Atty stared at the expression of delight on the Battle Lord’s face as the man grinned at her before addressing the crowd.
“I’m sure everyone by now has heard about the marvelous exploits of this woman warrior. About how she managed to kill a bull ferret almost single-handedly with one arrow. How she mowed down sixteen strong and highly-skilled soldiers with her bow. How she is so fast, so accurate, so meshed with her weapon that nothing and no one can equal or best her. Well, we’re also aware of the rumor that says that once she loses her virginity, she also loses that edge with her weapon. She loses that very quality that made her unconquerable. Ladies and gentlemen, our illustrious Mutah is no longer a virgin, as verified by the good doctor. So now let’s see if the story proves true. Let’s see if she can save the life of her Battle Lord.”
The guards moved aside to let Atty see down the expanse of the courtyard. At the other end of the compound Collaunt had erected a gallows. She could feel herself growing cold with dread as she noticed Yulen standing on the trap door. A noose had already been pulled and tightened around his neck. Below the platform, MaGrath stood bound and held immobile by two more guards.
Something sharp nudged her arm. She glanced down at the bow and single arrow in the Battle Lord’s hand. Numbly she took them.
“When I signal the executioner, he’ll release the trap door,” Collaunt instructed, informing her as well as the silent crowd. “You have the one arrow to break the rope around D’Jacques neck while he slowly strangles to death. Don’t expec
t me to wish you good luck, Mutah, because, obviously, I don’t want you to succeed.”
“Then why even give these to me?” Atty snarled at him. “This bow is too small. The arrow is too short.” She motioned toward the gallows with her head. “It’s got to be a good fifty or sixty yards. This weapon doesn’t have that range!”
Collaunt chuckled. “And here I’d been told you could perform miracles! Maybe I need to find the people who told me such fabrications and have them punished.” As fast as lightning, his eyes glittered with rage and his face went dark. “No more stalling, Mutah! You have been given your one chance! Show me! Now!” he hissed, spittle flying from between his teeth, and he threw a fist into the air.
The executioner pulled the lever, releasing the door beneath Yulen. Atty screamed as the shortened rope around his neck was enough to begin strangling him, but not long enough to break his spine as a normal hanging would.
“One arrow, Mutah! Make it count!” Collaunt yelled in her ear.
Atty lifted the bow, the arrow nocked, and focused on the thick rope. Great, racking sobs burst in her chest when she realized Yulen had ceased to struggle against the cord, giving her a better chance of hitting her target, but it was costing him dearly. He would be unconscious within seconds.
“Fire, Mutah! Fire!”
Even if she could pull enough pounds on the string to get the arrow all the way down the corridor, even if she could somehow, miraculously, get the arrow to the rope, the little barb on its tip wouldn’t be sharp enough or strong enough, to break the cord. Collaunt had checked all his bases. With her failure, Yulen was dead. She would soon be dead. And Alta Novis would be forfeited to Collaunt.
She took a deep breath, drew back on the string, and aimed.
As she expected, Collaunt heard her prepare, and he turned his head to look down the corridor. He turned to look. The guards turned to look. Everyone in the compound turned to look.
At the other end of the compound, MaGrath tore himself away from Yulen’s death struggle to see all eyes focused on the gallows. He saw Atty looking down the arrow’s shaft, then she lifted her face.
He knew what she was going to do a heartbeat before she did it.
Atty grabbed the arrow by its shaft and swung her arm outward as she screamed with anger and vengeance. The dulled tip punctured Collaunt’s jugular vein and made a loud pop! when she jerked it out. Blood began to arc into the air like a scarlet fountain. Before anyone realized what she’d done, she bolted down the corridor, running with a swiftness that astounded MaGrath even as he remembered Yulen telling him about her fleetness of foot.
The guards holding Yulen and MaGrath were taken by surprise by the girl hurtling directly toward them. They were even more shocked when she skidded to a stop in front of one of the gentlemen guests and pulled his dagger from his belt. Reaching back, Atty hurled the dagger forward with every ounce of strength she had toward the rope. There was a loud snapping sound, and Yulen fell to a heap through the trap door. But before he had vanished through the floor of the gallows, Atty had ducked into the crowd. The guards, still unaware of what had happened to Collaunt, left MaGrath and went after her.
MaGrath turned around to see the dagger a few feet away, sticking into one of the posts which supported the wall of the compound. He ran up the gallows steps, pulled it from the log, and jumped through the hole in the floor.
Yulen was nearly unconscious, but he’d managed to roll away from the trap door before MaGrath fell beside him. The physician sawed away at the ropes as sounds of the hunt escalated outside. This time he could make out the screams of people saying the Battle Lord had been stabbed. Someone else cried for help. The Battle Lord was bleeding to death.
As the last rope fell away, he helped Yulen to his feet as the man fought for breath. “Atty,” he managed, coughing.
“She’s given us a chance to escape. Let’s go!”
“Not without Atty.”
“Trust me, Yulen. She’ll join us. Don’t throw away this advantage she’s given us!”
MaGrath led him from behind the gallows to see chaos in the compound. There was a small doorway set in the wall a few yards away, one of the secondary exits facing the forest edge of the compound. Tugging on Yulen’s sleeve, he ducked and raced for it. Within seconds they were outside of the wall, and together they ran for the protection of the forest five hundred yards away.
Once they had penetrated the green barrier, both men fell to the ground, struggling for breath. MaGrath managed to crawl over to check Yulen’s neck, grimacing at the raw and bleeding burn.
“Wh-what happened?” Yulen asked. His voice was faint, his vocal cords swollen.
“She stabbed Collaunt in the jugular with the arrow.”
“Did she...manage...to break the rope?”
“With the arrow?” MaGrath grinned. “Nope. She grabbed some guy’s dagger and threw it, and that’s what broke the rope.”
Yulen rolled onto one elbow and stared at him.
MaGrath nodded, enjoying the man’s surprise. “Yes. You heard me right. She threw a dagger.”
The Battle Lord paused for only a second. “With which hand? Her right, her left, or both?” he asked before breaking out into a smile. He started to chuckle along with MaGrath’s soft laughter, but the effort hurt too much.
“If you two keep that up, Collaunt’s men aren’t going to have much trouble finding us,” a voice dryly commented from behind them.
Yulen rose to his knees as a warm and vibrant Atty launched herself from the bushes into his embrace. They held each other tightly, both of them trembling slightly as they reassured themselves of each other’s presence and well-being with tender words and one slow kiss. After a while, Atty pulled away to give the physician a well-deserved hug and quick kiss on the mouth. Following that, she bent over to examine the wound on the Battle Lord’s neck.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, my love,” she whispered.
Yulen shook his head. “My fault. A kink in the plans I hadn’t counted on.” He eyed her. “A dagger?”
She gave him an innocent look in return. “Why are you so shocked? You didn’t think the bow was the only thing I was skilled with, did you? How do you think I earned my Ballock?”
“How are you with a sword?” Yulen asked. “Any chance I might find you challenging me to a duel sometime in the future?”
“Forget it. They’re too heavy and too unwieldy. But you should see me with a foil. I even learned a few tricks with one!”
A sound in the distance alerted them. Atty and MaGrath pulled Yulen to his feet and she guided them deeper into the forest, away from Collaunt’s advancing troops.
“Atty, did you kill Collaunt?” Yulen asked her the next time they paused for a breather.
“I stabbed him in the neck with that dulled arrow he gave me. Served him right.”
“Is there any way he could still be alive?” MaGrath whispered.
Atty shook her head as her eyes glittered with the memory. “I was trained so that when I hunt, I aim to either capture or kill. With him, I wanted nothing more than to kill.” Her face grew grim. “I knew the moment I stabbed him he was a dead man.”
“Gotten bloodthirsty, now that you’ve learned to kill a few men?” MaGrath asked her. His tone neither rebuked nor condemned.
Atty halted in mid-stride to face him. “The only difference between a warrior and a hunter is the prey. And the only difference between your enemy and your prey is how badly you want it dead.” She continued to stare down the physician, who finally acquiesced.
“Then Bearinger is leaderless. Now’s the time to strike, Yulen,” MaGrath told him.
“I agree, but first we have to get to the road and alert my troops who are waiting on the other side of the valley,” Yulen agreed. “Atty, can you lead us there?”
“I can’t. Collaunt’s men are between us and the road.” Another sound alerted them, and she gave each man a little shove. “Go!”
They continued to
run, following her and her unerring sense of direction. When they reached a strand of big oak, they stopped again for breath.
“Damn, they’re relentless,” she griped.
Yulen gingerly rubbed his fingertips around the burn. “Any suggestions?”
They watched as she squatted, examining the underbrush. When she started to follow an almost invisible trail, they tagged along silently. Presently she stopped, and a smile slowly lit her face. She rooted among the leaves and twigs littering the ground until she found a piece of bark.
“Okay, guys. Up into the trees with you.”
“What?”
She answered Yulen with a playful swat on the backside. “I said up. Surely you used to climb trees when you were a boy. Liam?”
“Have pity on an old man, Atty.”
“Old, my ass. Get up there. Now.”
She watched as both men steadily climbed the oaks until she was certain they were high enough not to be detected. One more glance around reassured her, and she began to rub the piece of bark against a smooth rock. The result was a soft grunting noise.
Atty continued to rub the two pieces together, pausing every so often to listen. Suddenly, she dropped the wood and scurried up the tree moments before a crashing sound came thundering in their direction.
“Amazing,” MaGrath said quietly from where he crouched one branch over.
Yulen glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
“To think, with all the climbing and running and everything she’s done while growing up, that she’d managed to keep her maidenhead intact,” the physician noted.
“Shut up, Liam,” Yulen threatened softly. He was answered with a soft chuckle.
Atty finally reached them, hoisting herself up and swinging her legs over until she straddled the large limb Yulen sat upon. A flash of discomfort passed over her face, but not before Yulen noticed it. Seeing her straddling the branch, he remembered Liam’s comment, and a flush of heat came over him. It had been years since he’d had the grace to blush, he realized. Oddly, it felt good.