Chapter Thirty-One
Imposter
Lucien knew the man was blowing steam, yet it wasn’t quite a bluff. He had no doubt this imposter who called himself the Battle Lord of Alta Novis wouldn’t hesitate to order his men to attack. It was only a matter of how far each side could push the other before one of them either backed away…or charged.
His first inclination was to call the man out on his charade. To tell him he’d met Yulen D’Jacques, and this man was a phony. But that same sense of caution that had made him claim to be an entirely fictitious person from an equally nonexistent compound now told him to hold off on that idea. Instead, Lucien chose to see just how long he could hold off this ragtag, albeit powerful army, until his father arrived to assume command.
“Forgive us, Battle Lord. We’re only passing through on our way to Upper Strong Bay. We had no knowledge that this land was under your holding.” He gestured behind him with his thumb. “We saw the rubble of the last compound we passed by, and figured it would be okay to camp the night here before continuing on.”
The fake D’Jacques glanced back in the direction of Schutz Ridge. At the same time, Lucien noticed how the majority of his own forces were keeping to the trees to hide their true numbers. Fortunately, the horses and wagons were also tethered farther into the woods where this bogus battle lord couldn’t see them and make a guess as to how many soldiers he was actually facing.
Then again, neither do I. I don’t know how many men this imposter has, either, he told himself. The road made a turn a hundred yards or so away. From just eyeballing it, and given that this man’s troops were riding in pairs, he counted at least three dozen armed individuals. It would be wise to assume there were more out of sight around the bend.
As if reading his mind, the counterfeit battle lord drew his horse closer to Lucien. “How many of you are there?”
“How many do you have?” Lucien countered. The man grinned, revealing gaps in his teeth, and Lucien wondered if it was from poor dental hygiene or the result of battle.
“You have quite a mouth on you, young battle prince. Then tell me, how many Mutah do you have in your army?”
“Why do you want to know?” Answer a question with a question. It was one of the first tactics he’d learned from his father.
A thread of worry crawled up his spine. This man had told others he was out to kill as many Mutah as possible. If he caught sight of Johna, with her distinctive eyes, there was every chance he would try to attack them without further provocation.
The man’s head jerked up to look over Lucien’s head. Hearing the sound of his soldiers moving out of the way from behind him signaled to Lucien that his father was coming to join him. When the battle lord stopped beside him, from the corner of his eye Lucien noticed he was in full battle armor, including his helmet to conceal his face.
Slowly, Yulen drew his sword. “Identify yourself,” he demanded of the imposter.
“Yulen D’Jacques, Battle Lord of Alta Novis. Are you the battle lord of Twelfth Rock?”
“Are we being challenged?” Yulen countered.
The fake Yulen frowned. Either he wasn’t accustomed to not having his questions answered, or he hated being stonewalled. Lucien felt the tension rise a notch higher. Something had to give, and it would be sooner rather than later. The hope that this impasse could be resolved without violence was becoming less and less feasible.
“You are trespassing on my land, Battle Lord,” the imposter stated. “You did not get permission to camp here. Therefore you owe me a tax for that infringement.”
“What kind of tax?”
The man eyed the weapons Yulen’s men were brandishing. “I want all your swords and spears.”
Yulen made a rude sound. “And leave us defenseless?”
“That is what you owe me for your offense.”
“No deal,” Yulen said flatly.
The faux Yulen gave him another toothless smile. “Last chance, Battle Lord. Pay for your transgression, or be slaughtered.”
“Why should I pay attention to a liar and fake?” Before the stranger could respond, Yulen pulled his helmet off his head and tossed it to the ground. The man gaped, wide-eyed with shock, and Yulen took that moment to raise his sword above his head. “Yield! Drop your weapons and yield to the real Yulen D’Jacques, Battle Lord of Alta Novis!”
The bushes seemed to erupt all around them. Lucien stared in surprise as his father’s soldiers emerged from amid the trees on both sides of the road and surrounded the men on horseback. Although they were on foot, and at a height disadvantage, there was no mistaking that D’Jacques’ men were the more powerful force.
The men on horseback gave their leader nervous looks. The fake battle lord refused to face them. Seconds went by as everyone waited to see what action the man would take next. Adjusting his grip on his sword, Lucien kept his eyes on the imposter. This was not a man who would give up so easily.
The pretender suddenly screamed and charged directly at Lucien. Yulen rammed himself against his son, and the impact bounced the two of them apart just as the horse barreled its way between them. Lucien heard a swish of the man’s sword as it narrowly missed his unprotected head. The blade struck the mesh collar and was deflected away.
The fake’s army took that as a signal to attack, but it was clear from the outset that this would be a short battle. Their numbers may have been even, but the imposters were greatly outmatched.
Lucien rolled aside, glancing up to see his father throw up his sword to block the other man’s downward swing. The stallion reared up, off-balancing the fake battle lord, and he started to slide off his saddle.
The sound of hoofbeats behind him alerted Lucien to another approaching horse. He lifted his sword to protect himself as he scrambled to his feet, but a thick piece of wood came down, knocking it from his hand. Lucien stared up at the soldier getting ready to swing his makeshift club again, prepared himself, and at the last second rolled under the horse to avoid the strike.
The soldier jerked on the reins, turning the animal around to come after him again. Lucien glanced at his sword lying on the ground feet away, but knew he couldn’t reach it before the man got to him.
Getting into a crouching position, he watched as the man raised his club again. As the heavy limb came down, Lucien jerked away, taking the brunt of the blow on his shoulder. At the same time, he grabbed the piece of wood with both hands and tore it from the man’s grasp. The man yelled in surprise and tried to bring his horse around again to try and run Lucien over, but the animal protested the harsh pull on its mouth, shaking its head as it fought back.
Hoisting the tree limb over his shoulder like a bat, Lucien swung it as hard as he could. The club struck the horse across its flank, and the terrified animal bolted. Both horse and rider took off down the road, back in the direction where it ran directly into D’Jacques troops, who quickly brought it to a halt.
Running over to retrieve his sword, Lucien scanned the scene. The battle had lasted less than a handful of minutes. The fake battle lord had overestimated his men’s fighting abilities, or underestimated Yulen’s men’s expertise.
Several yards away, his father had the imposter pinned to the ground, his sword at the man’s throat. Mastin strode up to take the man into custody, quickly binding the guy’s arms behind his back. All around him, Lucien noticed the same thing occurring as the rest of the opposing soldiers were taken prisoner. He did a quick mental tabulation. Judging by the number of bodies scattered across the road, and number of men being bound, it appeared that quite a few of the impersonator’s army had beat a hasty retreat.
“You all right?” A hand clapped him on the back, and Renken’s worried face stared at him.
“Yeah. I’m good. How many men did we lose?”
“Doesn’t look like we had a single casualty. We’ll find out for certain once things settle down.” The big man chuckled. “Boy, howdy. I gotta tell you, Luc, you can certainly kick ass when you need to, and you don’t even have to be well-armed! Next time maybe we should just give you some rocks and a slingshot, and see how much damage you can do with that.”
Lucien snickered as he glanced around them. “Have you seen Johna?”
“Not since before the ruckus started. Last time I saw her, she was heading for the big tent.”
That meant she’d headed for his parents’ tent. Feeling somewhat relieved, he went over to join his father. Yulen gave him a once-over to make sure his son was okay. Lucien threw him a quick thumbs-up.
Two guards hauled the imposter to his feet and held him steady as Yulen advanced on the man. Lucien saw the guy flinch slightly, but tried to maintain a defiant stance.
“Who are you really?” Yulen demanded in that low voice that still managed to send chills up Lucien’s spine. The man pressed his lips together in answer. Yulen grinned. “Go ahead. Keep your secret to yourself. I’ll get what I want to know out of you eventually.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and kill me?” the man blurted out.
Yulen’s smile widened. “Why should I deprive my men of having a little fun?” he cryptically responded. It was all a bluff. Lucien knew his father no longer advocated torture, but this idiot wouldn’t know that.
The imposter’s face paled considerably, but he didn’t reply. Yulen signaled for order. “Let’s get this road cleared off. Gather up their horses. We’ll rope the prisoners to them when we’re ready to leave.”
“What do we do with them in the meantime?” Captain Destino asked.
“Bind them together and seat them in a group out in the open. Have at least six guards watching them at all times until I determine our next move.” He glared at the impersonator. “We’ll keep this one separated from the rest until I can learn more about him and find out why the hell he thought he could get away with his scheme.”
They proceeded into the forest, back to camp, as the soldiers worked to remove all trace of the skirmish, in the event someone else should pass this way. As they neared the tent where Pechard and his men were quarantined, Lucien was surprised to see several guards holding the three men near the central fire pit.
“Why are they out of their tent?” Yulen questioned.
“They tried to make a run for it during the incident,” one soldier answered. “Guess they figured all of us would be occupied elsewhere.”
Lucien watched as the emissary caught sight of the new prisoner. His eyes widened, and he immediately dropped his gaze. Lucien turned in time to see the imposter also look away, and a realization struck him. “Dad, these two men know each other.”
Yulen halted in his tracks. “What?”
He pointed to the emissary, and then to the fake battle lord. “These two men know each other. The way they just looked at each other… Dad, before the attack, Johna examined the emissary and his men as you requested. All three of them have had the virus. Pechard lied to us! He said they hadn’t been infected, but it’s a lie.”
“Where’s Johna now? I want her to look at this fraud and tell me what she sees.”
“Renken says he last saw her heading for your tent,” Lucien told him, when a loud shout came from the direction of a road. Seconds later, three soldiers burst through the brush, yelling and waving their swords.
“Bloods! Bloods are coming! Take cover! Bloods!”