This Battle Lord's Quest (2 page)

As she drew closer to the newcomer, her eyes grew
wider in disbelief at what she was seeing. The man was old, if not elderly. His
hair was snowy white and jutted out in ragged tufts from his head. His brown
face was lined with age, reminding her of well worn leather. He wore a jerkin
and breeches of dull yellow on his tall, lanky frame, but they were almost
hidden by the long black coat and miles of small bottles and tiny pouches tied
together and strung over and around his shoulders and across his chest, giving
the impression he was caught within a net. Amazed by the man’s appearance, she
almost missed the thin hand that stretched out to shake hers.

“I am told you are the master shot who took out
those two brigands. I thank you.” The man glanced over her with eyes that were
almost crystalline blue. “I am Saxon.”

“Saxon?” She recognized their visitor not by sight,
but by name. “
Doctor
Saxon?”

“Well, I would prefer to be called just Saxon. Or
you may call me Manderly. I don’t care, as long as you don’t forget to call me
to supper.” The old man snickered at his own joke.

At Atty’s questioning glance, Yulen nodded. “I’ve
already sent word to Liam. We’re to meet him inside the dining hall. Come,
Saxon. Let me show you the way.”

Atty remained standing in the front courtyard and
watched Yulen lead the elderly physician to the large building at the end of
the corridor. The man Liam and Madigan had sent for, and had prayed for, ever
since Madigan nearly miscarried in her fourth month.

This guy had made his way here, all the way from
Far Troit, by himself? It was almost unbelievable, and a miracle he managed to
arrive unhurt and intact, save for the last few hundred yards.

But miracles were what they were needing if Madigan
was going to survive the baby’s birth. According to MaGrath, if anyone could save
his wife’s life, it would be through the medical miracles of one Dr. Manderly
Saxon.

Chapter
Two

Bells

Atty entered the clinic in time to see MaGrath and
Saxon embracing emphatically and patting each other on the back amid loud cries
of welcome. In fact, Liam was in tears to see the old man, and he held him at
arm’s length to evaluate Saxon’s condition.

“By God, you haven’t changed after all these
years!” MaGrath exclaimed.

“Modern medicine, my boy!” Saxon boasted with a
laugh.

MaGrath gave him a quick once-over. “Are you all
right? I heard that was a close call.”

“They were just a bunch of young punks wanting to
rob me of my money. They didn’t believe me when I told them I didn’t have so
much as a penny’s fart.”

“What? You ran out of money?” Yulen inquired.

Saxon grinned. “Nope. Never carry any.” Lifting a
string of vials and pouches hanging around his neck, he added, “This is my
currency. In exchange for bed and board, I tend to the ill. Every compound has
folks who are needing a little extra miracle or two to get them over the rough
spots.”

“Saxon was one of my tutors up in Far Troit. Even
back then, he stood out among his peers. He showed me how to use the
pharmacopoeia from nature’s bounty, rather than rely on manmade chemicals.”
MaGrath suddenly realized he’d forgotten to introduce their new guest. “Forgive
my rudeness. This is Dr. Manderly Saxon. He prefers to be called Saxon.”

“The same way you prefer to be called MaGrath.”
Yulen smiled. He held out a hand to the elderly gentleman. “I’m Yulen
D’Jacques. I’m the Battle Lord of this compound, Alta Novis. And this...” He
waved a hand in Atty’s direction. “...is my wife, Atty.”

Saxon bobbed his head at her, then paused. “Might I
ask you a question, young lady?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Is that a fashion statement, or is your hair
actually two distinct colors?”

She realized what he was talking about and laughed
as her hand involuntarily went up to touch the braid. “It’s normally blue. I
had to dye it—”

“Excuse me. Did you say your hair was normally
blue
?”

Before she could answer, MaGrath stepped in. “Atty
is Mutah.”

She carefully watched the older man’s face,
especially his eyes, to see what kind of reaction he would have. To her
astonishment, he reached out and held a hand over her crown.

“May I?”

She nodded, and Saxon ran his fingertips over her
scalp. His touch was almost too light to feel as he traced the grown-out
portion until he reached the blackened ends.

“Incredible,” he murmured. Withdrawing his hand, he
explained. “We have Mutah up north, but with few exceptions, they all sport
what we refer to as vestigial body parts.” The man chuckled. “Of course, extra
eyes, or a second nose, or ten thumbs doesn’t quite fit that definition in
my
book, but who am I to argue? Just accept it and forget it, I say.” He bent over
to look directly into her face to examine her features, including her eyes and
skin and ears. “Extraordinary! I’ve heard of some Mutah being referred to as
‘near normal’, but I have yet to meet one. You’re the closest I’ve encountered.”

“Bet you did meet a near normal. You just didn’t
know it,” she countered.

Saxon chuckled as he straightened. “You’re probably
correct, Atty. I take it the majority of your Mutah abilities are inherent? As
in the way you handled that bow a few minutes ago?”

“Atty’s ability with the bow is legendary,” MaGrath
bragged. “You should also see what she can do with a knife.”

The door at the end of the clinic waiting room
opened, and Mattox ran out, heading straight for his father. Yulen laughed and
picked his son up to perch him on his hip.

“Saxon, this is my son, Mattox. If you want to talk
inherent, he spotted you on horseback when you were still so far away, I needed
a spyglass to see you.”

“Extraordinary!” Saxon leaned closer to the child, who
clung to his father’s jerkin and warily watched the stranger. Atty could see
her son’s eyes slowly darken to a cherry red color. As far as she knew, Mattox
had never shown any fear of any kind, no matter what he saw or what he
encountered. Instead, the child exhibited a combination of curiosity and anger
that intrigued her. It was as if the boy challenged everything and everyone to
prove themselves worthy of his attention.

MaGrath tugged on the man’s coat. “Saxon, this is
why I sent for you. May I present my wife, Madigan.”

Everyone turned around to see the woman standing in
the doorway leading into the inner chambers where she and MaGrath lived. In the
brighter light, Atty noticed how badly the pregnancy was going. There was no
blood in her face. Her cheeks were sunken, and she appeared to be much older
than her years. She walked slowly, but the warmth in her eyes and in her smile
were unflagging.

“Dr. Saxon.” She held out a pale hand.

 
Saxon took
it and bowed. “Madam.” Turning around to MaGrath, his expression became stern.
“Take this woman and lay her out where I can examine her.” The words were harsh
and no-nonsense. Authoritative. The tone of someone who expected to be obeyed,
and immediately. Both Yulen and MaGrath jumped toward her, but it was Yulen who
lifted his mother into his arms and carried her into the clinic’s examination
room where he laid her on the padded table.

“This is where you say, ‘Good evening, Mother. Talk
to you later.’ And leave,” MaGrath informed the Battle Lord.

Atty watched as Yulen lifted his mother’s hand and
kissed it, then bent to kiss her forehead. “Good evening, Mother. Be well. I’ll
talk to you later.” He bowed further to let Mattox kiss his grandmother
goodbye. “Say bye-bye, Matt.”

“Bye-bye, Nana.” The child placed a wet kiss on the
sallow cheek, then father and son left the room.

Atty went over to the table and gazed down at the
woman. Over against the wall where MaGrath kept his supplies and instruments in
cabinets and drawers, the two physicians were laying out what they needed while
in deep discussion.

“You’re going to be fine now,” she reassured the
older woman. “Liam’s a damn good doctor. And if this guy’s the one who taught
him what he knows, you couldn’t be in better hands.”

“I know.” Madigan’s gaze shifted over to the men.
“I never thought he would come this far, much less make it.”

“Well, the world’s a better place, now that the
Bloods have moved on. The roads are safer, even with the Marauders around, and
I don’t see those hoodlums remaining in the neighborhood much longer. Give
Yulen a couple more months, and those assholes will start searching for greener
pastures, too.”

“Atty? Please?” MaGrath walked up, signaling it was
time she left.

Bending over, Atty kissed the woman’s temple,
adding a smile. “I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

Madigan replied with a slight nod.

MaGrath showed her to the door. “Do me a favor and
turn over the closed sign on the clinic door, would you, Bluebell?”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“Nope. Thanks.”

She leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek. When
she moved back, she looked into the physician’s eyes. “She’s going to sail
through this, Liam. Trust me.”

He inhaled a shaky breath. “I hope so. I’ve been
doing a hell of a lot of praying these past few months.”

“If you need me or Yulen, don’t hesitate to send
for us.”

“I won’t. Thanks.”

Giving the man a reassuring pat on his shoulder,
Atty left the building, making sure to turn the sign on the door to show the
clinic was closed. She hurried across the small section of land that separated
the main hall and clinic from her and Yulen’s home. While they had been inside
with the physicians, night had fallen, throwing handfuls of stars into the
heavens and a chilly blanket across the land.

Opening the front door, she paused. The living area
was empty. Glancing overhead at the bedroom, she listened. There was nothing.
“Yulen?”

Oddly, there was a single candle burning on the
side table next to the door. The rest of the house was pitch black, and her
senses told her she was alone. Which meant the Battle Lord had taken their son
with him, wherever he’d gone.

Shrugging to herself, Atty ascended the spiral
staircase to the second floor. She lit the lantern on the wall sconce beside
the bed, then sat down on the edge of the mattress to remove her boots. As she
did every night since they’d moved back into the rebuilt and refurbished home
that Rafe D’Jacques had tried to demolish five months ago, she stared at the
new hand-carved headboard. Like the old one Rafe’s men had burned, it bore her
and Yulen’s symbols, a massive longbow on the right, and a representation of
her husband’s sword on the left. At the top, in the center where bow and blade
met, however, a new symbol had been added. It was a small eye. An eye without a
pupil or distinct iris, but which small rays were shone emanating from it, as
if it were a small sun.

Smiling, Atty tossed her boots to the side. She was
hungry. No, not hungry. Heaven knew she’d gorged herself on the noodles Berta
had made to go with the diced rabbit soup.
More like peckish.

She made her way downstairs to the kitchen and lit
a lantern. Rather than reach for a piece of fruit from the bowl on the cabinet,
she checked the cooling pots stacked inside the enormous pantry. The large clay
jars were from a Mutah compound called Benesta, which dredged the mud used to
make their pottery from the bottom of the huge freshwater lake located near the
fortress. With trade opening up more and more between Mutah and Normals, places
like Benesta were coming out of hiding to offer their goods, like these
containers that could store food items for days without spoilage.

Berta had drawn simple images on each pot to
indicate its contents. Atty found the one she was searching for, and lifted the
moist towel from the lid before opening it and reaching inside. Her fingers
immediately found the cluster of grapes she was seeking.

“
Aha!
Caught you with your hand in the
cookie jar!”

Atty jumped, her free hand already holding her
dagger outward as she whirled around. It was an instinctive reaction, brought on
by years of self-preservation. Only by the thinnest of margins did she not
throw the long knife in Yulen’s direction.

“Dammit, Yulen! What have I told you about sneaking
up on me?” She was peeved at him, but at the same time, she was proud. Her
husband had taken all his lessons from her to heart, until he could now track
and stalk game with an expertise that impressed even Mutah hunters.

The hulking black shadow standing in the living
area laughed as he went back over to the front door, closing and barring it for
the night. Strolling over to where his wife was in the kitchen, he plucked a
grape from her handful and popped it in his mouth. Atty immediately noticed
something was lacking.

“Where’s Mattox?”

“With Tory and Fortune. He’s spending the night
with them.”

“Why?”

“Because Liam and Saxon are planning on inducing
labor on Mother, and I figured it could take most of the night. In case either
of us was needed, we’d be able to run over there without having to worry about
him.” He leaned in to give her a moist kiss that tasted of grape juice. “And,
in the event we wanted to try for number two, ourselves.”

He kissed her again, licking the corner of her
mouth. His hands were already under her tunic, moving with slow, deliberate
motions across her bare skin. Massaging. Teasing. They cupped her breasts and
pinched her nipples. Atty moaned. His kisses stole her sanity. His hands were
melting her across the table. The grapes fell from her fingers as she grasped
his broad shoulders to hold on.

“My Atrilan.” His mouth brushed across her neck,
his tongue inciting tingling sensations as he touched upon her sensitive skin.
Hungrily, she sought his lips again, wanting him to drive her over the brink.

Their hands fumbled in the pale light to undo belts
and buttons. Atty started to shove her pants down when she felt herself being
pressed back onto the table, a spear of flesh pressed insistently between her
thighs. She grabbed it with one hand, but Yulen took her wrist and disengaged
her fingers.

“No. This way.” His breath warmed her ear. In the
next instant, he moved away from her. She opened her mouth to protest the loss
of his body heat in the coolness of the room, when he took her by the hips and
flipped her onto her stomach. Jerking her backwards until her legs hung all the
way over the edge of the table, he spread her butt cheeks. Atty dropped her
forehead to the wood and moaned in anticipation.

It had been too long since they’d been able to have
this kind of sex. Playful sex. Spontaneous sex. Too often these days they were
interrupted either before coitus or during, and usually by Mattox. Ever since
the boy learned how to climb out of his crib, they had given him a regular bed,
but opted to keep their son in the nursery in the room adjacent to theirs,
rather than move him downstairs. Whenever the child wanted to be with his
parents, it was not unusual to find him in the bed with them. It made intimacy
almost nonexistent.