Page 38 of Lucie
Chapter Eighteen
Attempt
Those nights when he couldn’t sleep, Lucien tried to trick himself into it by telling himself that, if he remained absolutely still, eventually his body would give up and succumb. Tonight, however, that ruse wasn’t working. He was too wound up, and from the sounds of the other soldiers surrounding them, they were equally restless.
The decision had been made that they would arise before dawn and advance on the compound while it was still dark.Yulenhad explained that, from experience, the wee hours of the morning were when most guards tended to slack off because of weariness or boredom. At AltaNovis, and at all his other compounds, the battle lord solved that problem by having the guards do shift changes every hour,rather than the usual four.
Unlike his parents, Lucien knew he had a lousy sense of time. Half an hour felt like ten minutes. A couple of hours barely seemed like one. AsYulenhad announced they would rouse themselves at three a.m., and he had no idea when he’d finally dropped onto his mat, there was no way of knowing how close it was to the time they were supposed to get ready.
Sighing, he rolled onto his other side. From where he lay he could see his parents lying a few yards away. His father was spooned up behind his mother, one arm protectively holding her around the waist. Within inches of their pallet was his sword and her bow and arrows, well within arm’s reach in case of an emergency. Both appeared to be sound asleep.
The wind made theleaves whisper in the trees. Lucien glanced up to see the clouds moving swiftly across the sky, playing peekaboo with the moonlight. Because they were so close to the enemy, the battle lord had deemed that no tents would be staked that night. The only allowance he gave was that they could shed their heavier armor.
A movement came from behind him. Craning his neck, he spotted Iainchanging positions. The battered satchel with its decorative porcupine quills that contained all hismedicantsand supplies remained clutched in the physician’s hands. That bag had belonged to his father, Liam. The man had taken it with him on every trip he’d made withYulenwhen he’d accompanied the battle lord. By passing it to Iain, he hoped it would bring good luck to his son.
Someone started to snore. He was quickly nudged until the snoring stopped. The safeguard was common practice among the soldiers to keep their presence from accidentally being discovered. Sighing, Lucien rolled onto his side and pillowed his head on his arm.
Miraculously, he somehow managed to drift off, unaware he’d done so until his sixth sense kicked in. His body tensed as a strangesound came from behind him. Slowly, he changed position to face the direction where he thought the sound emanated, and focused, hoping to hear it again.
To the far right there came the swish of someone moving through the brush. He got the impression whoever was there was trying to be as stealthy as possible, which meant it wasn’t one of the soldiers. Those men didn’t try to disguisetheir footsteps, especially if they were up to go relieve themselves. The soldiers were trained to be aware of people trying to be unobtrusive because those were the ones attempting to sneak up on you. Those were the people who either meant to do you harm, or were trying to get away with something while trying not to draw attention to themselves.
Which meant the noises he was catchingdidn’t bode well.
A whisper. He couldn’t tell what was being said, but the undertone sent a chill through him.
Slowly, he opened his eyes as he reached for his swordlayingbeside him. There was another rustling sound. Someone moaned in his sleep, and the noise abruptly ceased, confirming his suspicions. He momentarily thought about waking up his parents, but theywere farther away from where the activity seemed to be taking place. In addition, the time it would take for him to notify them of what he heard would take too long. The perpetrator could be far away by then.
The perpetrator. Or the killer. Or the thief.
The list was endless.
Iain’s sleeping form blocked his view, keeping him from seeing what or who couldbe moving around this hour of the night. Lucien wished he had a bow and arrow with him. Although his archery skills were nowhere near proficient, the weapon would give him a better chance at accosting the person than with his sword.
A whimper. It was immediately followed by a smacking noise, as if someone had been hit with a fist or object.
Unable to lie there any longerand not do anything, Lucien gradually raised himself up on his elbows to peer over the physician, to where the one fire on this side of the stream was almost reduced to embers. The pit still put out heat, but the flames were mostly gone. The moon had returned, giving him ample light to see by.
Two figures moved to the right. Immediately he could tell there was a third figure betweenthem. A figure that looked to be struggling, albeit weakly.
The hair on his head rose. Someone was being dragged away, and his senses told him the instigators weren’t soldiers.
A copse of trees sat less than a dozen feet away. Rising onto the balls of his feet, he scuttled sideways into the shadows, using the bodies of those sleeping to cover his movement. When hereached the trees, he advanced toward the silent commotion. As he drew nearer, he could hear more whispering, although the words were still too soft to make out. There was another whimper, this time answered by a flat thud that sounded like a fist hitting something solid. A moment of silence followed, forcing Lucien to pause.
A grunt. He strained to listen, calling silently on hisMutahhalf to expand his senses enough to make out what was being said. The wind answered by becoming totally silent. That was the break he’d hoped for.
“How are we going to get her up to the top of the embankment?”
“We don’t, we’ll take her downstream and drown her there. The water will carry her away.”
Lucien froze. One voice he recognized. It was avoice burned in his memory. The same voice that had growled at him earlier that evening.
“Do you think this is funny, pup?”
At the same time, he rememberedJohna’sapprehension and fear. Her worry had increased after they’d eaten, and he’d had to excuse himself to set up his bedroll within the battle lord’s protective circle. She hadn’t wanted them to be separated,but neither of them had a choice.
The two figures began walking away from the encampment. He could tell they were following the stream, and in the moonlight a slight figure lay slung over the bigMutah’sshoulder. A figure he immediately recognized.
“Put her down!”
