“Sorry,” Iain apologized. “It’s still dry, thank goodness. You can put your helmet back on. I’d like to check your neck wound, but I’ll wait until morning to do that…Mister Grumpy.”
Lucien smiled, unable to help himself. It was a nickname Iain had tagged him with when they were kids growing up because Lucien had always been the serious one. The killjoy of the group of three D’Jacques children plus their uncle, who was also their age.
Iain started to leave, but Lucien placed a hand on his arm to hold him back. “Where are you going?”
“I was told Farger’s complaining of a toothache. I thought I’d go check on him while we were stopped.” The physician leaned closer. “Any idea when we’ll pitch camp for the night?”
“I have the feeling we won’t be. We may remain here on watch until Mom and the others return.”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know.”
Iain gave a disheartened sigh. “I take it there’ll be no fires, either, to help dry out and get warm by.”
“’Fraid not. If Damaged have taken over the compound, we can’t let them know we’re here.”
“What if the compound’s empty? What if the Damaged overran it, then left?”
Lucien started to answer him, when Iain continued. “Or maybe the battle lord managed to defeat them, but he’s chosen to keep the compound in the dark to make it appear as if it’s been abandoned, and discourage any further Damaged from deciding to attack.”
It was a possibility that made sense.
“I think—”
A movement caught his eye. A shadow. Black upon black. A figure that scuttled from one distant tree to another. So quickly, it was almost impossible to tell if his eyes had played tricks on him. At the same time, those pinpricks of apprehension that had been plaguing him the entire time they’d been on the road became more pronounced.
“Luc—”
“Shh!”
Slowly, yet keeping his eyes on the area where he thought he’d seen the shadow, Lucien crawled over to the small knot of people where his father was located.
“—can’t take anything at face value,” the battle lord noted, then paused when his son joined them.
Lucien gave a little wave in the direction of the trees. “There’s something out there. I thought I saw something move.”
“You thought?” There was a slight emphasis on the second word.
Lucien steeled himself and tried not to let his father’s disbelief sway him. “I’m also getting… No, that’s not true. I’ve been having this feeling of uneasiness all day.”
“What feeling of uneasiness?” Renken murmured.
Lucien shook his head. “I can’t explain it.”
He sensed Renken turning to the battle lord. “Has Atty been getting any of those telltale antsy feelings, too?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Yulen admitted. “Luc, how many times have you supposedly seen something move?”
“Just once.”
Someone groaned softly. Someone else snickered. No one believed him. To make matters worse, Lucien was also beginning to think he’d been mistaken.
“My son, you may be hallucinating.” The despair in his father’s voice was pronounced, as if it was a portent of things to come.
Lucien started to turn to look at him to object, when the shadow moved again. This time it was closer. Not by much. A few yards at the most. But there was no mistaking the fact that it was slowly advancing toward them.
He reacted without thinking, drawing his dagger instead of his sword because it was less wieldy and not as likely to get caught in the tangle of thicket surrounding them. Although his battle skills were less than noteworthy, his tracking skills were top-notch, allowing him to swiftly advance on the tree where the figure was supposedly hiding behind without making a sound.
He focused his senses on his surroundings, and his ears caught the barely perceptible sound of breathing. Keeping low, he rounded the trunk and slammed his body against the figure paused there. At the same time, he pressed the dagger’s blade against the figure’s throat, and the enemy suddenly froze.
“Who are you?” he demanded in a low voice. “Identify yourself!”
The icy cold point of something metallic suddenly pressed against the side of his throat, exactly between his high collar and the bottom edge of his helmet. He knew it didn’t belong to the person he’d pinned to the tree, which could only mean one thing…
“Drop your blade, stranger. I’m only going to tell you once, or else I’ll slice your head off your body faster than you can move.”
Chapter Thirteen
Johna
He reacted without thinking, swinging his left arm upward to ward off the other attacker’s blade. The metal struck the side of his helmet, making a bell-like sound, while at the same time he whirled to the right and ducked. Plowing his shoulder into the person’s midriff, he continued to shove him backwards until they hit another tree. Ramming the side of his arm into the other’s throat and neck, he pinned him to the trunk and managed to wrest the weapon from the person’s grasp, tossing it away.
But that meant he’d left the first person free to either attack him or flee, and maybe raise a hue and cry to his companions.
He hoisted the dagger and prepared himself for an assault, when there came a soft yelp. The stomp of boots told him the others had followed him through the trees, although it was too dark to tell who was whom.
He could feel his blood racing, shot through with adrenaline. His heart pounded loudly in his ears to the point where he couldn’t distinguish the footfalls apart. His normally acute sense of knowing who was approaching him was being drowned out by his quickened breathing, and that of his attacker.
“Luc.” His father’s voice, softly muttered, came from nearby.
“Here. Watch out. There’s another one.”
A chuckle that sounded like Renken’s sounded to his right. “Don’t worry. I have him.”
“And I have the other one,” Lucien informed them.
“But there could be others,” Yulen warned. “Be on guard.”
“We need a light,” Mastin whispered. “We need to see who’s trying to sneak up on us.”
Almost immediately, a pale blue glow appeared as Paas pulled the little orb she always wore on a chain around her neck from inside her armor. The warrior woman slowly approached Lucien where he continued to hold his attacker at bay, and held the light up toward the pinned figure.
Both she and Lucien gasped as two eyes, each with double pupils, stared back at them. “Mutah!” Paas gasped, and immediately lifted her sword, aiming it at the person’s midsection.
The strange eyes turned to Lucien, but instead of seeing anger or fear in them, as he’d expected, they were almost pleading. The attacker struggled to free himself, and it was then he thought he felt…
No. It’s not possible.
Reaching down with his other hand, he brushed it across the attacker’s chest.
“Dear Lord, it’s a girl!”
“A girl?” Mastin gasped.
“What about this one?” Renken asked. “He feels puny, like a youngster.”