“If you have any kids, they would be…abnormal.” He almost sounded sad.
“No, they’d be special. They’d have abilities that would make them better. Stronger. They’d be able to heal faster from any injuries.”
“They’d look like freaks. My grandchildren would be freaks.”
She shook her head. “Daddy, if you really felt that way about Mutah, why did you accept D’Jacques’ invitation to come here for this conference?”
“I have no problems with Mutah,” her father countered. “I don’t have a problem with trading with them, or being around them, or making peace with them.”
“It’s just with being related to them that chaps your butt, is that right? As long as they keep their distance and don’t intrude upon your personal life, you’re just fine and dandy having them as traders and merchants.” She knew she was taunting him, but she couldn’t help herself. Seeing this side of her father was more than eye-opening. It was heart-breaking. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“I’ll be happier once we return to Vega City.”
“Who said I was going with you?”
She heard him softly growl, and knew what was coming next. It would be what he called his overly-protective parental side, when it was really his battle lord side. Demanding without allowing for any argument or difference of opinion. Ordering her, and expecting her to follow his edicts without question.
“You’re going back with me to Vega City, and that is my final word.”
She found the lighter. Removing the flint from the pouch, she struck the rock twice against the short length of steel rod. The sparks enabled her to find the small bowl of shavings sitting on the same ledge behind the ladder where she’d discovered the lighter. Half a dozen attempts finally ignited the tender, and from that she was able to light the lantern sitting on the table in the corner.
Her father watched her from the middle of a room that was lined with clay jars of all shapes and sizes. Each jar bore a small paper label tied with string around the neck: beets, eggs, corn, peaches, potatoes, onions, pine cone syrup. There were too many to count. “This place is their cold cellar.”
Holding up the lantern so he could see her better, she added, “And, no. I’m not going back with you to Vega City. Andthatismyfinal word.”
33
Horde
Yulen found her at the section where most of the wall had been demolished and climbed up to the parapet where Atty was ready with her bow. “Bloods,” she announced, never taking her eyes from the approaching horde.
“How many?”
“At least fifty, with more showing up. It’s hard to tell. They’re spread out.”
“Not engagingen masseanymore?”
“Haven’t been for years,” she reminded him. “Look at them and tell me what you see.” Her tone immediately told him she was noticing something different or strange, and wanted to know if he also observed it.
He watched as the group slowly formed lines three deep and running parallel to the compound wall. There were well over fifty of them now, and more figures continued to emerge from the tree line behind them. Upon closer examination, he saw the creatures were armed with the usual clubs, lances, swords, and bows, but judging by the way most of them were holding their weapons, they weren’t well-trained.
“They’re waiting for the signal to attack.”
“Exactly.” She glanced over at him. “So who’s leading them?”
“Someone who either has impeccable timing, or who has insider information. Them showing up now when we’re this vulnerable is too coincidental for my taste.”
“That’s what I was thinking, too.”
“Dad!”
Yulen glanced down to see Lucien waving at him.
“All Mutah inside and accounted for!” Before the battle lord could ask, his son added, “No sign of Bloods or anything else approaching from the south.”
“Take Tower Five just in case,” Yulen yelled down. “Have Garet take Tower Three.” His son threw a salute and ran off just as Mistelle ran up.
“All townspeople have been notified and are taking necessary precautions.”
