As dusk began to fall, the battle lord called for a halt and brought in his captains to discuss strategy. Dismounting, Lucien helped Johna out of the saddle and led her over to where the group was gathered. Yulen had his map out and was using it to outline his plans.
“We should be hailed by a perimeter guard within the next mile or so. If we are, we’ll continue on the road and pass in front of the compound, in full view. Schutz Ridge is on the northern edge of the roadway, to our right. But if we’re not challenged, we’ll have to assume the compound’s been compromised. In which case, I’ll take half of the battalion with me and pass by their main gates. The other half will take cover in the trees and circumvent, keeping out of sight.” He pointed to one of the captains. “Grimsy, take a couple of your best men and do a little recon. Give me an idea of what’s ahead of us, especially what type of terrain we’ll be facing. The forest has been thinning out these last couple of miles. We’ll continue to advance, but at a slower rate, until you return.”
The man repeated his orders and left. Lucien felt a tug on his arm, and he tilted his head to the side to hear what Johna wanted to tell him.
“Your mother. She’s heating up.” The young woman sounded concerned and a bit frightened.
Lucien narrowed his eyes as he studied Atty. She didn’t appear to show any outward signs of discomfort, but he knew his mother was very adept at concealment. In addition, he believed Johna. She could see changes in people that no one else could.
Rather than approach Atty and confront her alone with the fact, he waited until Yulen was finished and had dismissed the group. His mother remained by the battle lord’s side, which was what Lucien wanted. She may argue with him, but she wouldn’t be able to brush off Yulen’s scrutiny.
Stopping in front of her, he continued to examine his mother, until she finally addressed him. “Yes, Lucien?”
“Johna says you’re heating up.”
Yulen’s reaction was exactly as he’d hoped. His father gave Atty an accusing glare. “I asked you earlier why you hadn’t eaten much, and you told me you weren’t hungry.”
“I wasn’t. I’m not.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re coming down sick? Destino! Go fetch Dr. MaGrath!”
A few yards away, the captain acknowledged the order and went to get the physician. Not waiting for Atty to respond, Yulen turned to Johna. “What else have you seen?”
“Just that her body temperature is rising.”
“I’m getting overheated,” Atty protested.
“Not like this.” Johna challenged her. “I’ve seen hunters after they’ve chased down their prey. I’ve seen our men after they’ve engaged in battle. It looks totally different from when an illness hits. You’ve caught something, Atty, and now it’s starting to make its presence known. You can feel it. I know you can. Quit trying to deny it.”
“Atty?” Yulen’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Please.”
They were interrupted by the hoofbeats of an approaching horse. Iain pulled up and jumped down off his mount. His medical satchel was already strung across his chest.
“Destino told me Atty might be ill.” The man addressed them in general, but he focused on the battle lady.
Lucien spoke up. “Johna says she’s showing signs of being ill. She said—”
“What’s with the sweats, Atty?” Iain demanded, cutting him off. Placing a hand against her neck, he gasped. “You’re burning up.”
“It’s this damn body armor. I feel like I’m trapped inside an oven with it on.”
Lucien didn’t buy her excuse. Neither did his father and uncle. She never wore the metal armor, like the rest of the soldiers did. Although she did have on the thick yet supple leather coverings that they referred to as their soft armor, he knew, as well as the others, that it wouldn’t account for the increase in body temperature, especially since she wasn’t exerting herself.
“You’re coming down with something, and until you give me the details, I can’t help you,” Iain harshly responded. He sounded so much like his father, it was uncanny.
Atty looked at her husband, then at Lucien and Johna before returning to the doctor. “My head hurts. I’m having bouts of dizziness. And sometimes it’s difficult to take a deep breath.”
Yulen groaned and covered his face with a hand. Stunned, Lucien could only stare at her as Iain checked her pulse. “Your heart’s racing,” the physician told her, then lifted her eyelid to examine more closely. Rearing back, the man’s shock was plain to all. “Dear God, I think you’re coming down with the virus.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Infected
“No! No, no, no!” Lucien held up his hands, as if his denial would change Iain’s mind. But he knew the man wouldn’t make such a declaration if he didn’t believe it was true. He confronted the physician. “How? How could she have been infected?”
Iain shook his head. “The virus has approximately a twenty-four hour incubation period. Which means that at some point at around this same time yesterday, she came in contact with a contaminated person.”
“Who?” Yulen demanded, his voice breaking. “At this time yesterday, we were fighting the Bloods. She stayed on her horse the whole time. She never fought one-on-one against anyone. Atty?” He took her by the arm and turned her around to face him. “Did you touch anyone last night?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t touch anyone.”
“The virus is passed through bodily fluids, like blood or saliva,” Iain explained. “Did you come in contact with any of that?”
Atty shook her head again in denial. At the same time, the memory of something he’d witnessed came to him. “Yes, you did,” Lucien corrected her. “That arrow that Iain pulled out of Durrow’s back and handed to you. I saw you wipe the blood off of it on the man’s shirt before you put the arrow into your quiver. Then you wiped your hands off on your pants because you don’t wear gloves like the rest of us.” He pointed to her stained breeches.
Yulen looked at Johna. “Didn’t you say Durrow had already had the virus?”
“Yes.”
“But you couldn’t tell if he was Damaged, right?”
“Right.”
“Is it possible someone who’s Damaged is still contagious?” Echo wondered aloud. The others waited for Iain to respond.
The doctor shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s possible.”
“Wait.” Paas pointed at him. “You pulled that arrow from Durrow. You handed it to Atty. You haven’t had the virus. How come you’re not showing any symptoms?”
“Probably because he’s always dousing himself with that damn alcohol,” Renken remarked.
Lucien glanced at his mother. Her face was pale, her expression like stone. But her eyes reflected her worry and growing sickness. She glanced over at him, and he could almost hear her speak to him.
I’m sorry, Lucien. Forgive me.
Then she unexpectedly sneezed. At the same time, Lucien felt his body go cold.
“Dear God. The squirrel.”