“You’re correct,” Pechard informed the battle lord. “To make things worse, these Damaged are highly intelligent at the outset. They’re still Mutah, until the lingering aftereffects of the virus finally manage to eat away what’s left of their humanity. That’s why they’ve been able to plan and scheme, and come up with different ways to bring down Normal compounds.” He looked back over the group. “We’re not sure, it’s only supposition on our part, but we suspect the Damaged have split up into small pockets. Instead of attacking one compound as a whole, they’re targeting several compounds at the same time with each little group.”
“It’s a brilliant plan,” Atty remarked, looking up at her husband. “We’re used to fighting Bloods and other battle lords, with their massive armies. We’d never suspect a small Mutah family, and maybe a couple of Mutah merchants of such deceit.”
“And once a compound is overwhelmed by the disease, there’s no way of warning the next compound because they, too, may also be in the grips of the virus.” Yulen scratched the thick scar on the side of his face. “Which brings me to my reason for calling you here tonight. As of this moment, treat every stranger we meet as if they are a carrier of this virus. Even if they appear to be Normal, don’t let down your guard, because you know some Mutah don’t show obvious overt marks.”
Lucien mentally squirmed at the remark, but no one in the tent gave him a look.
“What are your orders if and when we encounter someone?” Echo queried.
Yulen’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “Well, first off, try not to get within spitting distance of them until we can determine their motives. That also goes for touching anything they’ve touched.”
“And what if they insist?” the woman warrior persisted.
“Then we must err on the side of safety,” the battle lord told them. “If they show any sign of wanting to get near one of us, or to pass along something they’ve touched, then we have no choice but to assume they are among those Damaged who are determined to destroy us. Cole, Warren, please inform the men that in those instances, they are to immediately kill every Mutah in that group. After which, they must sterilize their weapons in fire to prevent the spread of the disease.”
Lucien noticed that not a single person in the tent objected to the battle lord’s decree. But what was more surprising was that, as heartless and ruthless as it sounded, he agreed with his father’s stance. They could not take chances. Not anymore.
Years ago, when their worst enemy was the Bloods, it had been easier to tell who was friend and who was foe by their appearance. Now they were forced to fight an invisible enemy who could invade at will. One that they never saw coming until it was almost too late.
A shudder went through him as he thought of what the days ahead might bring.
Chapter Eight
New Bearinger
As the days passed, and the hours on the road began to feel endless, Lucien found himself liking to ride alone without any company. Every now and then he’d be drawn into a conversation by Iain or a few of the soldiers, but otherwise he kept to the middle of the contingency, ahead of the two wagons.
It was growing late when they reached New Bearinger. Lucien chose to bunk with the rest of the battle lord’s men in the soldiers’ barracks, and saw little of his parents or the others who were accompanying them after they disbursed. They were only supposed to stay long enough for evening meal, but Sy Volcheck, who oversaw the compound under D’Jacques’ banner, convinced them to stay the night and resume their trek before sunrise.
Once meal was over, he decided to climb the ladder up to the catwalk that ran along the upper portion of the thirty-foot walls which surrounded the compound. Two guards who patrolled up there saw him and gave him a little salute but didn’t approach.
The wind was brisk as it blew over the barrier. At first he debated whether to go back to retrieve his jacket but decided against it. If he went back into the barracks now, where it was warmer, he may not want to return. I’ll tough it out for a few minutes, then I’ll go inside.
He breathed in the chilly air, noting the scent of possible rain. Also mixed with it were the aromas of food and wood smoke. The sky was brilliantly clear and filled with countless stars. Just half of the broken moon shone overhead.
“It’s hard to believe the moon used to be a big round ball of white, the way Madigan told us,” he commented to the figure he knew was standing a few feet behind him. When the figure didn’t reply, he smiled. “Oh, come on, Mom. Tell me you used to be just as skeptic when you found out.”
A soft snort answered him. Atty closed the distance between them, stopping next to his elbow. She placed a hand on the sharpened end of the tree trunk that formed the upper part of the buttress. “It always amazes me how you’re able to know who is behind you.” A smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “Then again, I’m not all that surprised.”
He chuckled. “There you go again. Thinking it’s my inherent Mutah abilities that enable me to do that.” He made quote marks with his fingers for emphasis.
“If it’s not, then what would you call it?”
“Good hearing?”
“Lucien, even though your hearing is better than a Normal’s, hearing has nothing to do with it. You know that. Same for your eyesight, your sense of smell, and your intuitiveness.” She wasn’t admonishing him. Simply stating facts. Facts that he’d heard repeated all his life. Atty lifted an eyebrow. In the light from the lanterns strung along the catwalk, her dark blue hair looked jet black with traces of blue highlights. “You’ve never truly accepted that you have hidden abilities, have you?”
“I know Matt’s eyesight is unparalleled.”
“Mattox’s eyes are his mark, and you’re evading the issue.”
Lucien mentally smiled. Everyone else, including their father, called them by their shortened name—Matt, Misty, and Luc. Only their mother called them by their full name.
“And Misty’s senses when she goes hunting are phenomenal,” he included.
“So, what you’re saying is that they’re still superior to you?” She slowly shook her head. “My sweet son, haven’t you realized by now that you are superior to a Normal? At least, your senses are. And if those are, then there’s something yet to discover.”
“They’re not superior to Dad’s.”
“That’s because your father and I are connected on the deepest level. When we initially met, he was a good warrior, but in no way could he compete with a Mutah hunter.” She grinned again. “He’s gotten better over the years. Speaking of, and to answer your earlier question…” She pointed at the moon. “Your father once told me that, when he was a young boy, he often wondered if the moon would ever be healed. If it could be healed. Like our world. There was a lot of discussion about whether or not the Earth could go back to the way it was before the Great Concussion.” She leaned against the wall. “I’ve always wondered what the world was like back then. I heard there were amazing weapons. Giant machines. People could travel from one end of the world to the other in hours. They even managed to step to the moon before it split apart.”
His first impulse was to make a disparaging remark, but he knew his mother would never say something that absurd. Besides, his own teachers had hinted at such accomplishments made by their ancestors, even though there was little if any evidence to back their claims.