Chapter Seven
Strategy
“Excuse me, Battle Prince?”
Lucien glanced up to find one of the soldiers standing a few feet away. Seeing that he had Lucien’s attention, the man threw a thumb over his shoulder. “The Battle Lord and Lady request your presence in their tent.”
“I’ll be right there. Thank you.” He glanced down at the small shelter he was erecting. During the day, he and Iain had ridden together, discussing anything and everything, and mostly nothing in particular. But one thing they’d decided was to bunk together, as Iain didn’t wish to sleep alone, and there was no way Lucien could stay in his parents’ tent.
Leaving the tent as it was, he hurried through the campground, toward the large blue and silver structure erected in the center. He caught sight of Echo ducking through the flap as he approached, and followed the warrior woman inside.
Despite the fact that night had fallen and the weather had turned cold, no fire had been lit inside. A few lanterns provided light for the dozen or so people gathered inside, their own body heat keeping away the worst of the chill. Lucien saw his father standing at one end of the tent, with Atty sitting beside him. She acknowledged Lucien’s arrival with a smile and gestured for him to sit beside her. He quickly made his way over to her and dropped onto a small rug.
Yulen surveyed the group. “It looks like everyone’s here. Good. This won’t take long. I want to bring a few things to your attention, then you’re free to go.” He motioned to where Pechard and the two guards from Green River were sitting. “From what I’ve learned from the emissary, it appears the Damaged have changed their tactics since that time they attacked Alta Novis.”
No one raised the obvious question. However, Lucien paid close attention to what his father had to say. He knew little of what had taken place, having been kept in isolation for his protection. All he knew about the days’ long battle was via the stories he’d been told, but he vividly remembered the aftermath.
“For those of you who weren’t there remember, the Damaged used spears and arrows to launch their contaminated waste over the walls, and let the virus do its damage while they patiently waited. They knew the disease was fast-acting, and they expected our men to quickly fall victim to its effects. After a time, when they thought we had succumbed, they tried to scale the walls with ropes and ladders. As you know, they were unsuccessful in their takeover attempt, and that was because we were lucky in one very special aspect. I’d already caught and survived the virus when Atty and I were in Corado many years ago, so Dr. MaGrath was able to develop a serum from my blood. By giving the serum to those who became infected with the virus, the disease didn’t spread as virulently as the Damaged expected. So when the Damaged tried to invade us, we were able to defeat them. We killed dozens, but the few who survived the assault managed to flee back into the woods and escape, even though we tried to go after them.
“The reason I’m telling you this is because, since that time, they’ve managed to regroup, although they haven’t tried to attack us again. It seems they’ve set their sights on what they feel are more vulnerable compounds. In addition, it appears they are no longer using the same method of attack as they did with us. At least, it’s not the method they used to invade Green River, and perhaps other compounds as well.
“We all know that there are no aftereffects if a Normal contracts the virus and survives. But we have no such reassurance when it comes to Mutah. We know it’s impossible to tell if a Normal or Mutah has suffered the virus. In either case, there are no outward visible signs resulting from the disease. There’s no pock marks or lingering disabilities, nothing which would alert us to the fact that the person has contracted the virus. Which is why we can’t tell, until the Mutah reacts, if he has battled the virus, or that he’s been Damaged as a result.” Yulen motioned to Pechard. “I will let the emissary explain further.”
Pechard got to his feet and looked around at those gathered. “Their method now is to infiltrate a compound. Those which are infected, but are still able to pass themselves off as being well, come into the heart of the community and begin to spread the disease to others.”
“How?” Warren was the first to speak up. The second glanced at Iain. “How can they spread the virus if they don’t look sick? I’m not following.”
“Think of the virus as a worm,” the young physician explained. “Once it enters a piece of fruit, that fruit is no longer edible, but at first glance you may not know the fruit is no good until you bite into it. The virus works like that. When someone, Normal or Mutah, contracts the disease, it takes a few days before the worst of the virus takes effect. But until then, that person is highly contagious.”
“It’s those contagious Mutah who proceed to contaminate a large number of villagers and sections of the compound. They’ve been spotted spitting on tables and door latches. Sometimes they discreetly lick their hands before shaking the hands of others, or passing along an object. And a couple of times we’ve caught some Mutah men relieving themselves in the water buckets used to water the animal stock and the gardens,” Pechard informed them.
“All of which will guarantee the recipient will contract this highly infectious disease,” Iain added.
Renken raised a hand. “What do you mean, when they pass along an object?”
“It could be something as innocuous as handing over a knife or ax when they enter the compound,” Pechard explained. “Alta Novis has a similar law requiring newcomers and visitors to forfeit their weapons when they enter, and reclaim them when they leave.”
“We do,” Yulen confirmed.
“There’s also Mutah who come to sell their wares, their goods. Food items, clothing, cooking pots. What appears to be totally innocent is, in reality, harboring deadly germs.”
“Surely you’re not saying that every Mutah who comes to the compound is a harbinger of the disease?” Atty interrupted.
Lucien didn’t miss the hooded look Pechard gave her. “At this point, we can no longer be certain of anything. We’ve had entire Mutah families seeking to settle in the compounds, only to discover later that they all are Damaged. By the time their ruse is discovered, they’ve done serious and considerable harm to the townspeople.”
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Paxton spoke up. “Damaged Mutah come to the compound, where they’re welcome to stay for a short while or longer, depending on their need.”
“Correct,” Pechard replied.
“But you don’t know they’re Damaged until when? People come down sick? Or the Damaged show their hand?”
“In almost every case, it’s pretty much simultaneous,” the emissary admitted. “It seems the incubation period for the disease to claim new victims, and to turn a Mutah who’s already recovered, is about the same length of time.”
“Then why not close your gates and forbid any Mutah to enter?” Mastin inquired.
Yulen answered his second. “Because that would void every treaty we’ve accomplished with every Normal and Mutah compound. Decades’ worth of work, struggle, and bloodshed would be wiped out.”
“Not to mention the fact that the animosity and hatred of Mutah has already flared back to life because of this disease,” Atty pointed out. “Mutah were used as pawns. They are totally innocent. They never started this virus. Alton Highcliff and his hatred of all things Mutah did. He’s the one who infected the Mutah and sent them off to Mutah compounds.”
Yulen continued. “The infected Mutah didn’t know they were carrying a deadly disease. They thought they’d been granted a reprieve and allowed to return home. By the time Highcliff’s ruse was discovered, it was too late.”
“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.