Clean Sweep

Arland rose to his feet, suddenly fast and limber, and smashed the dahaka's side with his mace. Together the werewolf and the vampire began pushing the dahaka. The blood mace whirred and struck home and for every blow of Arland's weapon, Sean landed two or three cuts. The dahaka fought back with vicious fury. Blood sprayed, and I no longer could tell whose. They kept pressing him, driving him across the clearing toward me.



He should've been disabled by now. That was the plan. But he danced back and forth, fully mobile. At any moment, he could break away and run, and we would have to chase him. Neither Arland nor I would be fast enough. The dahaka was outnumbered and wounded. He was losing and he knew it. I could feel him teetering on the brink of a decision. If he ran, it would be all over.



I melted my halberd in a bundle of blue filaments. It spiraled around my hands and waist, extending to sink deep into the ground behind me. I sent my magic down through it. My power streamed from me like electric current through the wire and back into the inn, forging a connection.



I cried out. It was a small, scared noise.



The dahaka spun and saw me, standing alone and weaponless outside the inn's boundary, my spiders dead around me. The purple eyes gleamed. In the split second he stared at me, I saw the calculation plain in those alien eyes. Sean pressed him from one side and Arland from the other. I was the only possible exit. He could maim me in passing or grab me and use me as a hostage, and either way the two men would abandon their pursuit and concentrate on helping me. It was a win-win scenario.



The dahaka whipped around and charged at me.



Sean chased him, but the alien moved too fast.



I stood still. My heart was pounding too fast to count. Blood thudded through my head. The air tasted like metal.



The dahaka came toward me, fast, unstoppable, like a train flying off the rails.



I spread my arms and leaned forward, bringing them together, my fingers reaching for him. All of my power, everything that made me an innkeeper, moved with me. Behind me the house creaked, mimicking my movement. Every tree branch, every blade of grass, and every stray root reached forward with me. Wind bathed the dahaka like the breath of a giant clearing his lungs just before he inhaled. The alien realized it was a trap and spun around in a desperate rush to get away. Sean cut at him, but the alien batted him aside. For a second the way to his escape looked clear, and then Arland drove his massive shoulder into the dahaka, knocking him back toward me.



I straightened and pulled the empty air with both hands. The wind roared as the entire inn pulled with me. The dahaka howled, straining to resist the storm made just for him. His feet sank into the soil. He dropped down to all fours, clawing at the dirt, screeching in pure terror.



The house and I pulled, trying to drag him into the inn.



The dahaka slid across the grass, straight to me. Somehow he flipped and leaped straight up at me, claws out, teeth bared. Filaments bristled like narrow javelins and shot from me, piercing him in a dozen places. The dahaka howled, suspended in midair, flailing like a fish on a hook. Behind him, Sean leaped ten feet up and severed the dahaka's head with one precise blow.



It rolled to my feet. The purple fire went out of the alien's eyes.



My knees buckled and I sat on the grass. It reached to me, rubbing against me like a cat arching its back, eager for a stroke.



We'd won.



*** *** ***



Sean sat on the grass next to me. Blood slicked his skin. The dahaka had gotten in a few good cuts.



We watched as Arland searched the dahaka's armor. He found something, examined it closely, and came to sit next to us. In his hands was a vampire's crest. He showed it to me. "I activated it and sent a message. He's coming."



"He?" Sean asked.



"My cousin."



"How did you know?" Sean asked.



"He'd opposed the Pact of Brotherhood. Nothing forceful, just a snide comment here and there, enough to let us know he wasn't happy about it. Orig has poor impulse control. As a child, he got into fights for frivolous reasons. As an adolescent, he had to learn the hard way that women don't enjoy being assaulted. He is at his best when he is set loose on the battlefield in the ranks, but in his mind, he is the Marshal. He spoke at the feast in my aunt's honor after we buried her. It was all outrage and bluster and how we would find those responsible and make them regret ever crawling out of their mother's womb. After the funeral I saw him standing by himself. I was above him on the terrace and he thought he was alone. He was smiling. I thought it was odd at the time. I used your terminal to check with the House. They pulled his flight plans for the past six months. A month before the wedding, he'd taken a trip to Savva. The idiot had charged the House for the fuel. There is one in every family."



Sean glanced at me.



"Savva is the mercenary capital of the galaxy," I told him. "If you wanted to hire a killer, that would be the place."



Arland grimaced. "Now I'll have to mop up his mess."



"Now?" I asked.



He nodded. "I want to get this over with."



"Don't you want to heal up?" I asked.



"No, I don't." The way he said it made it clear he wanted the questions dropped.



We sat together, bleeding quietly onto the grass. I hurt in half a dozen places. Funny how in the fight I hadn't noticed, but apparently, I was all cut up to hell. The inn could heal the magical injuries but not the physical ones. Well, this would cure me of looking for trouble for at least a few weeks.



The screen door clanged. I turned around. Lord Soren, out of his armor and limping, struggled forth. He crossed the property and lowered himself on the grass next to Arland.



Arland nodded to him. "Is there a precedent for outsiders serving as witnesses?"



"Yes," Lord Soren said.



"Good."



The sky above us split. A bright red orb formed in the air and drained down in a silent, glowing waterfall of red, leaving three new vampires on the grass. The tallest looked a lot like Arland. If they were human, I'd say the cousin was about six or seven years older, but with vampires, nobody could tell.



Arland rose and walked over. "Why?"



The vampire snarled back.



"Engage your translator," Arland said. "My witnesses don't speak our language."



I leaned over to Lord Soren. "Orig isn't your son, is he?" Because that would be awful.



"No," the older vampire said. "Other side of the family."



Orig fixed Arland with a glowing stare. "This alliance, this brotherhood you and your father dragged us into. It's not good for anyone. We've had two years of peace. Two years of no raids, no challenges, and no glory. We're going soft and stale. You don't care, and I get that you don't care. You have achieved your place, but the rest of us are not as lucky. Not everyone can be the golden son. Some of us have ranks to climb."



"You had the exact same opportunities I did," Arland said. "You didn't rise through the ranks because you're an undisciplined idiot. You want to know my secret? Before you earn the right to give orders, you have to follow them. We were going to launch a joint offensive against House Lon this fall. It would've been massive and it would let us extend our influence over the entire continent. The offensive is now dead. Congratulations, Orig. You single-handedly crushed three years of planning. You brought in an outsider to assassinate your own aunt, and you've permitted him to soil your crest. It will be years before we can wipe away the stench of your foul stain from our name."



"And if I want a trial?" Orig asked.



Arland dropped his gauntlets on the grass. His breastplate followed. "You get a trial right here. You're not going back to the House to grandstand and posture. I'm the Marshal of House Krahr. I've conducted my investigation. Here, before these witnesses, I find you guilty of treason. Defend yourself."



Orig bared his teeth. The armor fell off him. "I will bury you on this planet."



"Big words. Just try to die well. Don't shame the House any further."



They clashed. No weapons, just bare hands and teeth. It was short and brutal. I really wanted to close my eyes a couple of times, but I was a witness and so I watched until Arland bit through the back of his cousin's neck. He shook his prey once like a dog shakes a rat and spat him out.



"Remove this filth."



The two vampires who had arrived with Orig collected his body. Lord Soren lumbered to his feet and followed them. Arland wiped the blood from his lips.



"Aren't you going with them?" Sean asked.



"I thought I would impose on you for just a little while longer," Arland said to me. "I really would like to shower. And to brush my teeth. I need to get the taste of family out of my mouth."



*** *** ***



I was sitting in the foyer, trying to read a novel about angels and women who fell in love with them. The novel was great, but I couldn't sink into it. I had showered and made myself some chamomile tea, but sleeping seemed impossible.



This had been my first major clash in my own inn. I'd won, but somehow I didn't feel triumphant. I felt... spent.



Sean emerged from the kitchen and set a cup of coffee in front of me. He'd washed the blood off his face. "Hey."



"Hey," I said.



"So what's next for you?" he asked.



"Next I go on as usual," I said. "The Innkeeper Assembly may send someone to investigate, but I can hold them off. What's next for you?"



"I owe a favor to Wilmos," Sean said.



No. Suddenly I realized what was coming.



He looked at his coffee. "I'm pretty sure I know what kind of favor he wants. I thought I'd go and pay him back before he thinks something up. I'd like to see what's out there. I'd like to see Savva. Other places. You know."



I knew. I could see it in his eyes. I'd had the same look once, that exciting knowledge that somewhere just beyond the space horizon, something secret and exciting waited for you. Something you'd never seen before and probably would never see again. He'd always been looking for the place he belonged. The lure of the unknown was irresistible. "You're leaving."