A Battle Lord’s Heart (15 page)

           
It was Renken who paused as he
surveyed the unbelievable, unforgettable destruction. “Something’s not right
here!” he called out to the others.

           
Mastin stopped. “I can feel it, too.
Sorcher?”

           
“Here, sir!” the lieutenant called
out a few yards beyond.
 
The soldiers
had fanned out, looking for possible survivors, although it was evident to
everyone there would be none. As badly as the bodies had been mutilated, it
also didn’t seem likely they would be able to identify many of the dead.
“Nothing!” he yelled in answer.

           
Glancing at Atty, Mastin saw her
heading toward a nearby tower that lay on its side just inside the demolished
east wall. His trained eye noticed that this part of the structure appeared to
have borne more of the brunt of the battle. The fallen tower had not just been
burned, but it had been chopped like firewood, as well.

           
“They came over the east wall,” he
announced loudly. A quick glance over his shoulder gave him a quick indication
of where his men were located. When he turned back around, he saw Atty throw
down her bow and fall to her knees the same moment the others did. All three
men reached her simultaneously as they saw her digging frantically in a pile of
dirt and rubble.
 
A keening whine was
coming from her as she bent over to retrieve whatever it was that had caught
her eye.
 
Sheathing his sword, Renken
dropped beside her and reached in to help her, pulling aside charred sections
of wood and bloody chunks of meat and flesh he didn’t want to examine too
closely for fear of recognizing them.

           
“Oh...
God!
” Her soft,
agonized cry raised the hairs on the back of MaGrath’s neck as he leaned over
to see what she had found. His stomach tightened to the point of pitching him
forward into the devastation to vomit what little he’d eaten.
 
Light-headed with fear, he prayed she hadn’t
found what he knew she had.

           
Slowly, her whole body shaking
uncontrollably, Atty drew Yulen’s sword from under the pile of human refuse.
Bracing her body against it as she clutched the bloodied hilt, she began to
weep in loud, raspy sobs.
 

           
MaGrath fell to his knees. His legs
would no longer hold him up as he stared at the sword he knew had been Rory’s,
and which had been passed to Yulen after his death. Which would be passed to
Yulen’s unborn son—

           
“Sir!”

           
The call seemed to draw everyone’s
attention to Flacker standing a few yards beyond them. The soldier had a look
of disbelief on his face. He leaned over and pulled on something, propping it
up for the rest of them to see. To MaGrath’s surprise, the horrified oath he
heard came from his own mouth.

           
It was the head of Yulen’s big gray
stallion. Only the head remained, removed at the chest like some bizarre wall
trophy. The reins and bridle dangled from the gaping mouth.

           
A scream overhead came from a
predatory hawk, hungry for an easy meal, but not trusting to land as long as
the men were gathered below. Death, weighing heavier than the air they were
breathing, was so palpable, it seemed to threatened those who had ventured
inside the compound to claim its victims.

           
“Let’s get the
fuck out of here!
”
one of the men yelled out. His voice trembled. The others felt equally spooked,
equally uneasy, and it was evident they wanted to remove themselves from that
place as quickly as possible.

           
“Head out!” Mastin yelled back.
“Call a retreat!” Taking another step toward where Atty remained kneeling and
clutching Yulen’s sword, he held out a hand and begged her, “Let’s go, Atty.
There’s no one left alive here.”

           
Blue-gray eyes reddened with tears
flashed at him. “No. I have to find what’s left of him. I won’t leave until I
do.”

           
“Atty.” MaGrath tried to reason with
her. “Atty, there’s nothing left to find. And even if we did, we wouldn’t be
able to reasonably identify the remains. Atty—”

           
“No.”

           
“Atty, listen to me.”

           
“
No.
”

           
She hoisted herself to her feet,
using the sword to lever her bulkiness. Turning to face them, she took two
steps backwards and raised Yulen’s sword with both hands, keeping the gory
point at eye level.
 

           
“I’m remaining here until I find
proof. I...I have to find proof. Do you understand? I have to!”

           
MaGrath cursed under his breath. Her
emotional upheaval was too dangerous for the welfare of her baby. Regardless of
where they stood at the moment, he knew he had to get her calmed, if not in a
reasonably less agitated frame of mind. And searching amid a field of dissected
body parts for ones that looked like they belonged to her husband was not going
to help matters.

           
“Atty, you have to think of the
baby,” he said in what he hoped sounded like a soothing tone of voice. God knew
he was about ready to fall apart at any second.
 

           
Yulen! Oh, dearest God in heaven,
Yulen! What were you forced to endure?

           
“Your son is part of Yulen. You
created him together. Don’t lose him now. Not after all you’ve gone through.
Not because of this. Think of what Yulen would be telling you if he were still
alive, Atty,” MaGrath pleaded with her. “Protect that part of Yulen that’s
still alive in you. Let’s get out of this place and go back outside the walls.
At least long enough so we can come up with some plan of action.” He shuddered,
reaching for her as well. “I promised Maddy we’d bring him back. Trust me,
Atty. We’ll find him. But, right now, come with me.”

           
Atty continued to hold up the
blood-encrusted sword as she took another half-dozen steps backwards, afraid to
stop looking when they’d already found his horse and weapon. Her back bumped up
against the side of the fallen tower, and she pressed herself along the
scorched wall of the lookout station.

           
As many soldiers
would later retell of that day, no one knew the wounded Blood was lying in wait
in the nest. Atty never felt its presence, never anticipated it, and they
figured it was because her immense grief had blinded her to it being in hiding.
All they remembered was the screeching shriek made by the leathery creature as
it reared up behind her, grabbed Atty by her thick length of braided hair, and
pulled the Battle Lady backwards, bending her over the wall of the lookout.
Drawn over the narrow ledge, her feet flailed uselessly as Atty struggled to
right herself. Unable to scream, she reached behind her head with one hand,
hoping to pull her long hair out of the thing’s clutches, but she couldn’t
reach it. Neither could she reach her Ballock.

           
The Blood glared with obsidian black
eyes at the men who stood frozen in stunned terror. It was Renken who managed
to break out of fear’s hold first, and he started to rush the creature when it
lifted its other taloned hand and proceeded to bring it down across Atty’s
exposed throat—effectively slicing it open to the spine at the least,
decapitating her at the most.

           
From somewhere inside her, a
soul-wrenching yell came out of Atty’s mouth. She hadn’t lost her grip on
Yulen’s sword, and with a burst of adrenaline, she grabbed the hilt with both
hands. As she saw the razored claws descending, Atty lifted the heavy weapon and
continued to swing it upward and over her head as she screamed in anger. The
finely honed edge sliced through the creature’s hand and buried itself halfway
through the Blood, cleaving into its neck and chest at an angle.

           
As the sword ground to a stop in her
hands, Atty released it and twisted out of the thing’s dying grasp as she fell
away from the lookout to tumble to the ground. A heartbeat later, MaGrath was
clutching her in his arms, and they shuddered together in the aftermath.

           
Infuriated with himself, Mastin
barked out orders, and the men scattered to check for other possible survivors
in hiding. When MaGrath helped the dazed woman to her feet and began to lead
her out of the compound, the Second was near tears, realizing how badly he’d
messed up. The encounter had been too close. Cursing himself, he tried to
apologize, but a dark glare from the physician shut him up.

           
It was Renken who stayed behind long
enough to retrieve her longbow and the sword from the dead Blood, double
checking to make sure the creature could not give them any more trouble before
carrying the weapons back to the entrance of the compound where he returned
them to the nearly unconscious Battle Lady.

           
To him, it seemed fitting that her
husband’s sword would remain faithful to his love, and help her to destroy the
thing before it destroyed her. Even after the man’s own death, his spirit
continued to watch over her and protect her.

Chapter
Eleven

Harsh
Discoveries

           
“Take five, men, before we go in and
start making sense of the dead.” Mastin rubbed a hand over his face, then
pulled it away to discover he was shaking as if he were palsied. He refused to
glance back at the unspeakable nightmare behind him. Not just yet. He needed
another moment to gather himself, and to steel his nerves before leading his
soldiers back through those smoldering doors to begin the grisly task of
searching for recognizable pieces of their men.

           
For recognizable pieces of their
Battle Lord.

           
The funeral pyres would be many in
Alta Novis when they returned.

           
He walked over to where MaGrath sat
huddled on the ground next to the wagon, tightly holding onto Atty. She was
rocking in his arms, her eyes wide and unseeing as a tiny, high-pitched moan
came from her throat.

           
“Cole, get my bag.”

           
The Second flinched at the iron-like
command in the physician’s voice. He retrieved the leather satchel containing
the man’s medicines from the back of the wagon and handed it down to him.
MaGrath snatched it from the man’s hands and released Atty to search for something
to calm her down.

           
Her next movements were precise and
unanticipated. Seeing her whipping out her Ballock, Mastin’s first instincts
made him scream in fear.

           
“
Oh, God, Atty! No!”

           
But what he’d dreaded she would do never
happened. Barely giving him a glance, Atty reached around and grabbed her thick
braid. Without a second thought, she started to slice through the rich, glossy
length, hacking at it, sawing the razor-sharp blade back and forth, until she’d
cut the entire piece off at neck level.

           
Everyone stared at her in mute,
stunned surprise. Her trademark hair with its long, luxurious thickness they
had seen the Battle Lord fondle and smooth and comb with his fingers countless
times was now gone, until all that was left was a short crop of dark blue,
wispy, ragged curls that ended below her ears.

           
Forcing herself to draw deep
breaths, Atty tossed the braid at Mastin, who caught it and flushed a dark red.
“Never...again,” she rasped. “No one, and no
thing
, will ever be able to
do something like that to me again.” Turning back to MaGrath, she buried her
face in the man’s shoulder.

           
Speechless, Mastin carefully rolled
the nearly yard-long braid into a neat ball, then tucked it into his saddlebag.
The Bloods had claimed another victim, only it would take a little while longer
before she succumbed to her wounds. Calling out to his lieutenants, the
soldiers were re-gathered and given their orders to begin the task of claiming
the dead.

           
Fortune helped the physician lift the
now unconscious woman into the back of the little wagon. MaGrath had managed to
give her a sleeping potion, and in her exhausted state, Atty had gone under
quickly.

           
“She’ll be out for at least a couple
of hours,” MaGrath said. “I only gave her a small amount, more to keep her calm
than anything else.”

           
“We’re going to need you out in the
field,” the Mutah hunter told him.

           
MaGrath nodded solemnly. As the
compound’s physician, he knew every soldier’s body almost as intimately as the
men did themselves. He would be able to identify scars, tattoos,
birthmarks—those marks which would tell him which of the dead belonged to Alta
Novis. Most of all, he would be needed to help them identify the Battle Lord.
“I can’t leave Atty alone,” he told the Second. “She might wake up while we’re
still in there.”

           
“I’ll remain with her,” a voice
behind them said.

           
Both men turned around to see Renken
standing on the other side the wagon. It took Fortune only a second to make his
decision.

           
“Atty allowed him to ride with us and
help guard her back. I trust him.”