Sweep of the Blade (Innkeeper Chronicles Book 4)

by Ilona Andrews

  She checked her harbinger again. It obediently projected the target of the hunt, a large vaguely feline beast the size of a rhinoceros with dark-green fur marked by splotches of deep rust red. The House Krahr Huntmaster was tracking it, but the main hunting party, and Maud, had no idea where it would come from. The vampires didn’t like hunts with training wheels.

  Daesyn really was a beautiful planet, Maud decided. Soft green grass with flashes of turquoise and gold lined the floor of the plain. Mesas rose on both sides, the gray stone of their walls weathered by rain and sun to almost white. The sky was tinted with emerald green, the golden sun shone bright, and the wind smelled of wildflowers. It was so easy to lose herself in it all and just breathe.

  The mesa on her left curved, protruding. Maud rounded it. Far ahead, a long procession trotted across the plain, the massive vihr stomping forward like they were trying to crush the ground with every step, like oversized tan Clydesdales. She was too far off to hear the hoofbeats, but her mind supplied the sound all the same. Boom. Boom. Boom. They were moving kind of fast. They must have sighted the prey.

  Her harbinger chimed, synchronizing, and projected a stylized map, tagging the individual vampires in the party. Eight people in the lead represented by red triangles, followed by a larger group of white triangles, followed by a smattering of green circles. Red signified the killing team, white indicated adults, and green was reserved for children.

  “Tag Helen.”

  Among the green circles, one turned yellow. She was in the center of the group of children. Likely protected by several sentinels and perfectly safe. Still, the fights were unpredictable.

  I really am getting too paranoid.

  As if on cue, the hunting party split. The red group at the front peeled off, the slow vihr speeding up. The white group remained steady, holding to their original course.

  If she didn’t hurry, she would miss the kill. She couldn’t offer congratulations to the soon-to-be-married couple unless she actually witnessed them bringing the beast down.

  Maud gave a short harsh whistle, and Attura surged forward.

  A distant roar shook the air. A huge creature burst from between the mesas, running for the killing team, his green fur blurring with the grass. Damn it.

  The killing team fanned out, seeking to flank the beast. It would be over in a matter of minutes.

  Her harbinger screamed, the shriek of alarm piercing her. Something was happening in the main procession. The formation broke, too chaotic to see. On her display, a big red dot appeared in the mass of green circles.

  Panic punched her. Maud threw her weight forward, almost lying on Attura’s neck. The beast galloped with all his might.

  Individual riders shot out of the procession in all directions. She chanced a quick glance at the projection. There were three red dots now. The children were fleeing, while the adults bunched at the center, trying to contain the threat. The yellow circle indicating Helen angled southwest, another green circle in her wake.

  Maud shifted her weight to her left, and the savok angled west.

  The group of vampires broke, bodies flying, and through the gap Maud glimpsed a creature. Enormous, mottled gray and stained with dirt and reddish clay, the hulking beast bellowed, swinging its huge scaled head side to side. It caught a knight and the force of the blow hurled him off his mount. The orphaned vihr screamed. The beast’s great jaws unhinged and clamped the vihr. The creature swung away and a bloody half of the vihr toppled to the ground.

  What the hell was that? It looked like a dragon. A huge scaled dragon.

  She had to get to Helen. She had to get to Helen now.

  Another dragon, this one pale yellow like an old bone, tore out of the clump of the vampires, and charged southwest. The two riders on juvenile vihr kept fleeing, oblivious to the danger.

  It’s going after the children.

  Maud screamed. Helen’s head whipped around. She looked over her shoulder and shrieked.

  Maud fused with Attura as if they were one creature, willing him to go faster.

  The vihr were running for their lives, the kids bouncing in their saddles, but they weren’t fast enough. The dragon came after them, paw over paw, like a sprinting crocodile, jaws gaping, a forest of fangs wet with its drool.

  It was gaining.

  Faster. Faster!

  They were almost there. Almost. A few dozen yards.

  The dragon lunged, roaring. The teeth. Huge teeth.

  This wasn’t a dream. The monster from her nightmares had come to life and was trying to devour her daughter.

  The little boy’s vihr shied, screaming in panic, and stumbled. The boy and the beast went tumbling into the grass. The dragon loomed over them. Maud saw it all as if in slow motion, in painful clarity: Helen’s terrified face, her eyes opened wide, her hands on the vihr’s reins; the vihr turning, obeying her jerk; and then she was on the ground, between the boy and the dragon.

  Twenty yards to her daughter.

  A sound ripped the air around Maud, so loud it was almost deafening. A small clinical part of her told her she was howling like an animal, trying to make herself into a threat.

  Helen drew her blades.

  The dragon opened its mouth. Its head plunged down and Helen disappeared.

  Something broke inside Maud. Something almost forgotten that lived deep in the very center of her being, in the place where innkeepers drew their power when they connected to their inn. She had no inn. She had nothing, except Helen, and Helen was inside the dragon’s mouth. Everything Maud was, every drop of her will, every ounce of her strength, all of it became magic directed through the narrow lens of her desperation. It tore out of her like a laser beam and she saw it, black and red and ice cold, committed to one simple purpose: Stop!

  Time froze. The dragon halted, locked and immobile, and the bulge about to travel up its neck stopped in its tracks. The vihr, one fallen, the other about to bolt, stood in place, petrified. The vampire boy sprawled in the grass, unmoving.

  This is the magic of an ad-hal, that same clinical voice informed her. You shouldn’t be able to do this.

  But she was moving through the stillness, her sword in her hand, and as Attura tore into the dragon’s hide, Maud slit a gash in its cheek. Blood gushed, red and hot. Maud thrust her arm into the cut. Her fingers caught hair and she grabbed a fistful of it and pulled. She couldn’t move it, so she planted her feet, dropped her sword, and thrust both arms into the wound. Her hands found fabric. She grasped it and pulled.

  The weight shifted under her hands.

  The edges of the gaping cut tore wider.

  Her daughter fell into the grass, soaked in spit.

  Is she dead? Please, please, please, please…

  Helen took a deep, shuddering breath and screamed.

  The magic shattered.

  The dragon roared in pain and swiped at Attura, who was clinging to its neck. The savok went flying, flipped in midair, landed on all fours like a cat, and charged back in.

  The dream haunting her since she arrived on Daesyn burst inside her, popping like a soap bubble, and in a flash, she remembered everything: her parents’ inn, the monstrous dragon, the deep inhuman voice that reverberated through her bones, “Give me the child.”

  There were two children behind her, and she was the only thing between them and the dragon.

  Maud attacked.

  She tore at it with all the savagery of a mother forced into a corner. She stabbed it, she cut it, she pierced it, her blood blade the embodiment of her rage. There was no fear left. She’d burned it all in the terrifying instant she saw Helen being swallowed. Only fury and icy determination remained.

  The dragon struck at her and she dodged. When it caught her with a swipe, she rolled back to her feet and came back in, her teeth bared in a feral snarl. She stabbed it in the throat. When it tried to pin her with its claws, she cut off the talons. She wasn’t a whirlwind, she wasn’t a wildfire; she was precise, calculating, and cold, and she
cut pieces off of it one by one, while Attura ripped into the monster’s flesh.

  The dragon reared, a bleeding wreck, one eye a bloody hole, paws disfigured, and roared. She must have lost her mind, because she roared back. It came down on her, trying to trap her with its colossal weight. She had the crazy notion of holding her blood blade and letting it impale itself, then something hit her from the side, carrying her out of the way. The dragon smashed into the ground, and in a lightning flash of sanity, Maud realized she would have been crushed.

  Arland dropped her to her feet. His mace whined, and he charged the dragon, his face a mask of rage. She laughed and dove back into the slaughter.

  They cut and slashed and crushed together. At some point she caught a glimpse of the children stabbing at the crippled dragon’s legs. Finally, it swayed like a colossus on sand feet. They drew back and it crashed to the ground. Its remaining eye closed. It lay unmoving.

  Maud gripped her sword, unsure if it was over. She had to make sure. She started forward, aiming for its face.

  Arland rose out of the gore, jumped up onto the dragon’s head, and raised his mace, gripping it with both hands. They hit it at the same time. She sank her blade as deep as it would go in its remaining eye, while he crushed its skull with repeated blows.

  They stared at each other, both bloody.

  Helen hugged Maud’s leg, her lip trembling. Arland slid off the dragon’s ruined head and clamped them to him.

  His voice came out strained. “I thought I lost you both.”

  Maud raised her head and kissed him, blood and all, not caring who was watching or what they thought.

  18

  Maud knocked on the door separating Arland’s quarters from the passageway leading to her rooms. Yesterday she would have hesitated. Today she didn’t even pause.

  The door swung open. Arland stood on the other side, barefoot and out of armor, wearing a black shirt over loose black pants. His hair was damp, and he’d pulled it back into a loose ponytail. He must’ve just stepped out of the shower. The afternoon had turned into evening, and the light of the sunset tinted the room behind him with purple, red, and deep turquoise.

  His gaze snagged on her. She was wearing a white robe of fonari spider silk, its fabric so thin and light, she barely felt it. The wide sleeves fell over her arms like a cloud. She’d cinched the robe at the waist with the belt, but it was cut so wide that the voluminous skirt swept the ground behind her, the gossamer silk swirling at the slightest breeze. When the light caught it just right, it shimmered, nearly translucent.

  The robe was a Christmas gift from Dina. Her sister had handed her the gift, smiled, and walked away, giving Maud her privacy. Maud had opened the gilded box and stared. At the time it seemed like an unbelievable luxury. On Karhari it would have paid for a year of water for her and Helen.

  She’d touched the robe, feeling the delicate fabric, and it stirred something inside her, something gentle and fragile she had hidden deep within her soul to survive, the part of her that loved beautiful clothes, and flowers, and long soaks in the bath. Something she’d thought she lost forever that first night on Karhari, when she cut off her hair and sat alone on the floor among the dark locks and cried. Now, that part came awake and it hurt, and she’d cried again from pain and relief.

  She wished so much she’d had her hair now.

  Arland opened his mouth.

  Nothing came out. He just looked at her. An exhilarating flash of female satisfaction surged through her.

  Silence stretched.

  “Arland?”

  He closed his mouth and opened it again. “How is Helen?”

  “Very tired. We washed all of the blood off and she fell asleep.”

  “Understandable. She was fighting for her life.” His voice trailed off.

  “Arland?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can I come in?”

  He blinked and stepped aside. “Apparently, I lost my manners somewhere on the hunt. My deepest apologies.”

  She swept past him into the room.

  He shut the door and turned to her. “Have you sustained any inju—”

  She put her arms around his neck and stood on her toes. Her lips met his, and he held very still.

  Does he not want me?

  Arland’s arms closed around her. He spun her, and her back pressed into the door. His rough fingers slid along her cheek, caressing her skin. She looked into his blue eyes and caught her breath. His eyes were hot with lust, need, and hunger, all swirled together and sharpened with a hint of predatory anticipation.

  His lips trembled in the beginning of a growl. He smiled wide, showing his fangs, and lowered his mouth to hers. Her instincts screamed in panic, not sure if she was mate or prey, but she had waited so long for this and she met him halfway.

  They came together like two clashing blades. His mouth sealed on hers and she opened for him, desperate to connect, to feel him, to taste…His tongue glided over hers. He tasted of mint and warm spice. His fangs rasped against her lip.

  Her head swam. She felt light, and strong, and wanted…

  He kissed her deeper, his big body bracing hers. She nipped his lip. A snarl rumbled deep in his throat, the sound a predatory warning, or maybe a purr, she wasn’t sure. He kissed the corner of her mouth, her lips, her chin, her neck, painting a line of heat and desire on her skin. She was shaking with need now.

  “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he groaned.

  “So have I.”

  “Why now?”

  He was kissing her neck again, each touch of his lips a burst of pleasure. She could barely think, but she answered anyway. “We almost died today. I can’t wait any longer. I don’t want to be careful, I don’t want to think about the consequences or things going wrong. I just want you. I want you more than anything.”

  “You have me.”

  “Always?”

  “Always,” he promised.

  Maud stretched, sliding her foot along the heated length of Arland’s leg. He pulled her tighter to his body. Her head rested on his chest.

  “What were they? The creatures.”

  “The closest thing to Mukama in my generation. On the vampire home world, there were predatory apes, like us, but not quite us. A distant relative, less intelligent, more feral, more vicious.”

  “Primitive?”

  “Yes. The Mukona, the creatures that attacked us, are the Mukama’s primeval cousins. They are to the Mukama what feral apes are to us. An earlier evolutionary branch that didn’t grow. Daesyn is the birth place of the Mukama, after all. The Mukona possess rudimentary intelligence, more of a predatory cunning, really, and inhabit caves deep below the planet’s surface. When we took over the planet, we had hunted them to extinction, or so we thought. Apparently we were mistaken.”

  “There were three of them,” Maud said. “A mated pair and an offspring?”

  “I don’t know. Possibly. I’d never seen one before today. I’d heard stories.” He made a low growl. “Once this damn wedding is over, we’ll have to send survey drones into the caverns. Find out how many of them there are, and if any are left, we’ll have to take measures to preserve them.”

  She raised her head and looked at him.

  He smiled at her. “Today we are legends. We killed a Mukona, the next thing to the Mukama, the ancient enemy, the devourers of children, the cosmic butchers who almost exterminated us. Once the word gets out, every House will be beating on our door for a chance to hunt one. They really are magnificent beasts. We have to protect their future and manage their numbers. I have no idea what brought them to the surface for this hunt, but whatever it was ensured its place in history. Oh well, at least something good will come out of this wedding.”

  “It was Helen,” Maud said.

  He frowned.

  “When I was a little girl, a Mukama came to stay at our inn.”

  Arland jerked upright in the bed. “A living Mukama?”

  “Well yes, it wasn’t a dead one t
hat somebody brought with them. No, he was very much alive and wanted a room. They are out there somewhere, Arland. Think about it. They were an interstellar civilization with an armada of ships. You didn’t really think you got them all, did you?”

  “Yes, I kind of did. What happened?”

  Maud sighed. “I was very young, so I only remember bits and pieces. My brother told me most of it. He is older than me by three years and he saw the whole thing. He had nightmares for years after. The inn had lain dormant for a long time and my parents had just recently become its innkeepers. They were not in a position to turn down guests, and when the Mukama came, he was brimming with magic. The inn desperately needed sustenance and giving him a room would go a long way to restore the inn’s strength.”

  “I understand,” he said. “That’s why your sister agreed to host our peace summit after everyone else turned us down.”

  Maud nodded. “My parents offered him quarters with a separate exit, completely away from all the other guests, on the condition that he refrain from harming anyone. Supposedly, I had walked into the garden at this point. I was maybe five. I should remember it, but I don’t. All I recall is a monster chasing me through the garden. And then there were teeth. Really scary teeth.”

  She slid deeper under the blanket. Arland lowered himself back down next to her and wrapped his arm around her waist.

  “I was running for my life and then my father stepped onto the path in front of me. His robe was black, and his eyes and his broom were glowing with blue light. I ran behind him and kept running, and then there was this awful roar. My parents had restrained the Mukama. It had taken all of their combined power and everything the inn had. When my father demanded to know why he shouldn’t just kill the Mukama now, the creature told him that it couldn’t help itself. That I was full of magic and he would do anything to devour me. He offered them a fortune. He told them they could always make more children, but it was vital that he be allowed to eat me.”