The roaches seemed to change their minds and made their move, maybe thinking that if they attacked altogether, they’d be able to reach their prey. Lifting his leather shirt, he brought it down and sideways, stunning several and knocking others away. They tried again, and he managed to repel them. A third time they charged. One managed to cling to the overshirt as the rest skittered to the far side of the room. Lucien leaned over his mother, wrapped the roach inside the folds, and began bashing it with his fist. The muffled crunching sounds were oddly satisfying. After one more punch, he paused to see if the thing continued to struggle and glanced around. Several roaches crouched near the doorway leading to the main dining hall.
Suddenly, they scattered, disappearing into a wide crack in the corner he hadn’t noticed before. Heavy footsteps pounded down the short hallway, and Yulen and Paxton burst into the room. Their armor and swords were covered in different color ichor, showing they’d been engaged with the enemy, since Bloods didn’t bleed red like Normals or Mutah.
It took the men less than a second to take in the scene. Yulen rushed over to where the decapitated roach continued to struggle, and brought his heel down squarely on top of it. As Paxton dispatched a couple of the insects which tried to climb the walls, the battle lord dropped to his knees beside Atty.
“Luc! Are you—”
Iain ran in from the other doorway and stared in shock at the carnage. “Oh, dear Jesus! What happened?”
“Never mind me. Check Mom and Johna. I think their fever broke.” He was breathing hard from his exertions. His head continued to swirl, but he was able to remain cognizant.
Yulen reached out and placed a hand on Lucien’s arm. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Answer me. Were you hurt?”
“No.” He managed to shake his head without feeling faint. “But I saw those things nibbling on Mom and Johna. Are they okay?”
Iain examined Atty. “I don’t see any broken skin.” Rolling her onto her back, he pressed his ear to her chest. Everyone remained silent while he listened to her breathing. His eyes widened, and he sat up. “I can still hear fluid in her lungs, but it doesn’t sound as thick as it was. She’s also breathing easier.”
“Does that mean she’s getting better?”
The physician placed a hand on her face and back of her neck. “She seems to have cooled down some. I not going to say the virus has peaked. But if this continues come daylight, I’ll be more willing to say she’s starting to come out of it.”
“And Johna?”
Iain went over to examine the young woman, checking her the way he’d done with Atty. “Same thing.” He looked to Lucien. “The transfusion may have worked.”
“Thank God,” Yulen whispered, glancing around the room. “Looks like all of us managed to repel an attack.”
“Yeah,” Paxton agreed. “But I’m willing to bet Luc’s story is a whole lot more interesting that what we just went through.”
Before the men could ask any more questions, Lucien pointed to the crack in the far corner of the room. “The roaches retreated back in there. I bet that’s where they originated.” His gesture drew his father’s attention, and the man grabbed his hand.
“You were bitten. Iain, come look at this!”
“It doesn’t hurt,” Lucien protested.
Iain scooted over, clutching the remains of his alcohol bag. Tearing off a piece of his shirt, he dabbed it inside the container, then applied it to the wound. “That’s all the alcohol left.”
“Sorry. It was the only way to keep those things away from Johna while I tried to protect Mom.” He waved again toward the crack. “The roaches came from there,” he repeated.
“Then I’ll bet that’s where we’ll also find water, since those thing like the dampness,” the battle lord declared. “Warren, have Cole go get Pechard and bring the man to the main hall. Then fetch Jarish and his men. It’s time we started digging a well.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Deceit
Grabbing him by the arm, the battle lord helped his son get to his feet. His legs were a bit wobbly, but after a few moments Lucien managed to stand on his own. Yulen took a deep breath to calm himself. With everything that had occurred these past couple of hours, he felt weak-kneed himself. He needed time himself to re-center and re-focus, but he doubted he would have that luxury. Not now.
He glanced back down at his wife. He didn’t need Iain to tell him she was resting more comfortably. He’d known it seconds after Lucien’s blood began to suffuse itself into her system. Somehow, he’d been able to feel it, like a flood of warmth, easing away the pain. That small reassurance had been enough to allow him to leave the clinic in order to tend to the growing threat outside the compound’s walls.
“You okay?” he asked his youngest again.
Lucien answered with a crooked smile and an honest, “Yeah.”
“I think Iain can take over from here. I want you with me when Pechard arrives.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get to the bottom of all this. I’m going to find out why the man lied to me, and then I’ll demand to know what part he has in all of this.”
Lucien raised an eyebrow. “You think he’s complicit?”
“Damn right, I do. Come on. Need my hand?”
“I think I can make it.” Lucien took a couple of tentative steps and paused. “Okay. I’m good. Slow, but I can manage.”
They took their time moving into the main dining hall. Lucien stopped just past the doorway and leaned against the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest, making it appear as if he were taking a stance. Yulen didn’t question him why. Neither of them wanted anyone else to know how weak the battle prince was, least of all the emissary.
Mastin entered from the side door. Pechard was ushered in, flanked by two of the battle lord’s men. The second eyed Lucien, and by his questioning glance to Yulen, it was clear he knew something was up, but he wouldn’t say anything until they could talk in private.
“Cole, have a couple of men fetch Luc’s battle garb from the clinic and have it cleaned.”
Again, Mastin looked at Lucien, and realized the young man wore only his pants and tunic. Yulen added before the man could speak, “Have them also clean and bring back his weapons when they’re finished.”
Giving a nod, Mastin hurried out. Yulen gestured for the soldiers to make the emissary sit on the floor. The rest of them remained standing in a circle around him, preventing him from escaping if the man tried to make a break for it.
“What’s this all about, D’Jacques?” Pechard demanded.
“This is about your duplicity in what’s been happening,” Yulen stated. There would be no more diplomacy from him. This man was his enemy now. He waited until his second re-entered the dining hall and joined them before continuing. Perching his hands on his hips, he glared at the emissary. “You lied to us about not ever having the virus.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, you did,” Iain corrected. He strode into the room, never taking his eyes off of the emissary, and pointed a finger at the man. “You’ve had the virus. It took me a while to figure out how Atty got sick, when we didn’t come into contact with anyone else. It’s because you’re a carrier, aren’t you?”
“There’s no one left alive at Green River, is there?” Yulen pushed. “All of this was a ruse to get me and a large number of my men away from Alta Novis, wasn’t it?”
Pechard’s face reddened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What either of you are talking about!”