When they exited the tent, he could tell dawn wasn’t too far away. Sheathing his sword, he hurried for the blue and silver tent. He remembered his father telling him many years ago that he’d chosen that fabric’s shade of blue to match Atty’s hair when he’d commissioned the tent to be made for his wedding gift to her. In the back of his mind, Lucien briefly gave a thought to having one of his own. One that he and Johna could share…if she lives.
I have to stop dreaming of a future with her. We can’t take that for granted. Not now. Maybe not ever.
But if by some miracle they did survive, and with their minds intact, he would see she got a tent with golden panels that reflected the light the way her beautiful eyes did.
When he entered his parents’ tent, he found his father holding his mother as she was expelling fluid from her lungs. Iain had a bowl positioned under her face, and occasionally wiped her sweat-soaked skin with a cool rag. He stood just inside the door flap and waited until the episode was over before going over to take a seat.
“Mom?” He bowed his head and tried to look her in the eye, but she seemed out of it. Giving his father a concerned look, he silently mouthed the words, “How is she?”
“It’s been a rough night,” Yulen answered in a low voice. “Any symptoms from either of you?”
Lucien started to answer when Johna spoke first. “I’m starting to feel congestion in my chest.”
“Any coughing or sneezing?” Iain inquired.
“Yes. Both.”
“How’s your breathing? Any trouble taking a deep breath?”
“It’s becoming more difficult,” she admitted.
“She’s also perspiring a lot, and she complains about being cold. Her skin’s also cold to the touch,” Lucien added.
“She’s clammy,” the doctor noted. “She’s in the first stages.” His eyes narrowed at Lucien. “What about you?”
Lucien shook his head. “I haven’t noticed anything different in the way I feel.” He turned to Johna. “Are you seeing anything in me?”
This time he caught the change as she shifted her vision. It was barely noticeable, and faster than a blink. But because he was intently studying her, he was able to notice the switch. “No. I don’t see anything different in your temperature.” She glanced over at Iain. “Is it possible me getting sick is affecting my eyesight?”
“Have you ever been sick before?”
“Of course.”
“Did your eyesight suffer during those times?”
“No, but this is different.”
Iain disagreed. “Sick is sick, Johna. If your body’s been thrown out of whack in the past because of illness, I don’t see how your vision would be affected this time. It’s very possible Luc is either not showing any signs as yet, or…or he’s not going to.”
“How…is that…possible?” Atty gasped.
Lucien’s heart withered at the sight of her pale face. At the black circles around her eyes, and her sunken cheeks. Her long, unbound hair looked dull, and had taken on an almost bluish-gray shade. She seemed to have aged twenty years overnight.
“There could be many reasons why,” Iain explained. “But we can’t get our hopes up that the virus has passed him by. He could still come down with the illness within the next few hours.”
“Isn’t there something you can give us? Don’t you have any medicants to help us fight this?” Johna almost pleaded.
“There is a serum,” Iain confessed. “It’s made from the blood of someone who’s had the virus and survived. Unfortunately, Mutah can’t take the serum if it’s derived from a Normal. It has to be from another Mutah.”
“And there is no other full-blooded Mutah here in camp,” Lucien finished.
A disturbance outside the tent drew their attention to the doorway. Lucien got to his feet as Harank Pechard threw back the flap and entered, obviously without obtaining permission or prior notice. Yulen made it clear he didn’t appreciate the man’s unwanted appearance. “You were not summoned, Pechard.”
The delegate glared back at the battle lord. “I’ll be happy to leave, but not before I get an explanation. Why aren’t we moving on to Green River? Your Captain Destino won’t tell me anything, other than your men were ordered to set up camp for an indefinite period of time.” The man pressed his lips together, his face filled with indignation as he waited for Yulen’s excuse. Lucien turned to find his father gently cradling Atty back into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder as she slipped into unconsciousness.
“I haven’t forgotten Green River or my promise to you, emissary. But I do not owe you any explanation as for why we’re here, or why we shall remain here for at least the next couple of days.” The battle lord barely glanced over where Lucien had resumed his seat next to Johna. “I am awaiting a report from one of my captains, who should be arriving back at camp any moment now.” Yulen gave the man another hard look. “Guard!”
The soldier burst through the door flap. “Sir?”
“Please show the representative from Green River to his tent. Any word yet as to Captain Grimsy’s return?”
“He and his platoon was spotted less than half a mile away,” the guard told him, then gestured to Pechard. “Come this way, sir.”
Lucien waited until the emissary had been escorted out, then vented his frustration. “What an ass. He clearly saw that Mom was ill. Surely, seeing her like this must have given him some idea as to why we’ve pitched camp. How can he be so callous?”
“Because he’s concerned about his compound. About his friends and family,” Yulen said. “Your mother’s health is of no consequence to him.”
“That’s not…” Johna started to speak, then paused to give Lucien a pleading look.
“What?” he urged.
“That’s not what I saw. I mean…”
“What did you see, Johna?” Iain insisted.
“When people speak, depending on their moods, on their feelings, they take on a… I don’t know how to explain it. Their body takes on a shading. When a person’s angry or upset, or in that man’s case, if he’s so worried about his compound, he should be glowing a dark shade. Like an iridescent shadow. But he wasn’t. There was no shading whatsoever.”
“What are you suggesting?” the battle lord asked.
“His indignation is fake. He’s putting on some kind of act.”
Lucien glanced over at his father, who frowned at her. “You’re sure of that?”
Johna nodded. “I’m positive.”
“You can tell when someone’s lying?” Lucien clarified.
“Sometimes. Only if there’s great emotion tied to whatever they’re saying. That man is feigning the fact that he’s angry we’ve stopped our progression toward his compound.”
“Which can only mean there has to be another reason why he’s so adamant that we resume our advance,” Lucien concluded.
“I agree,” Yulen concurred. “But what?”
“Battle Lord, permission to enter,” a soldier called from outside the tent.
“Enter.”
The guard stuck his head through the doorway. “Captain Grimsy has returned.”