Blaedergil's Host C.M. Simpson (first e reader .TXT) 📖

able to slide out of its grasp, if it hadn’t been for its partner, which had trapped the arm holding the Zakrava, and turned under it to push back against my chest, at the same time as it wrapped its calf behind my own. They combined their strength to drop and pin me, and then flip me onto my front, and drag my hands behind my back.

Once they were done, they hauled me back to my feet, and held me between them, as the others came to stand before me.

“Tell me, little human, why we shouldn’t kill you, right now.”

I lifted my head, trying to see which one spoke. I was breathing hard enough that I could hear the air sobbing in my throat, or maybe it was just that I was terrified enough to be that close to tears. Either way, I lifted my head, and got a good strong grip on myself. I had one chance at this, and I was going to need my voice.

“Do the clans have to avenge their dead?” I asked, my mind racing as I watched as the farthest shadow moved forward, the human-shaped arach warriors parting like water before it.

“It is a custom.”

“And I have killed from more than one clan?”

The warriors looked around at the dead, but, even to me, it was clear that I had killed warriors wearing different uniforms. I could only hope that meant different clans. Their leader came to a halt in front of me, and made a show of noting the dead.

“Yesss.”

“Then you need to have a contest to see which clan gets to avenge their dead by drinking me dry.”

Somehow, I managed to keep my voice from breaking. I heard it waver, but that didn’t matter so long as it didn’t break. I had to keep that image of being a strong opponent—a worthy opponent—in all their heads. And I had used the words I’d heard the arach use earlier in the hopes of keying into the obligations of another custom.

Now, I had all their attention.

Their leader eyed me with a cold stare.

Of course, that could just have been the way they all looked—inhuman—but I was hoping it was as unimpressed as I thought it was. Its tone seemed to confirm that.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Do you have an arena?”

I saw it turn its head, taking in the warriors around it, saw more than one of them dip their heads in a single nod, when their gazes met.

“Yes,” he said when he looked back to me.

“Then I would fight a gathering of the clan representatives, just as I have fought them, today. Those that survive when...” My breath caught at the thought of losing, but I caught it, took a second breath and continued. “Those that survive at the end, have won the right for their clan’s vengeance.”

“And if there is more than one?”

I swallowed hard. Reality said that there would be more than one, and I didn’t have a death wish. I closed my eyes and opened them, making myself look directly into the face of the creature in front of me, and somehow, I kept my voice steady as I replied.

“They drink all at once.”

I think I managed to surprise him, and I kept my eyes fixed on him while I waited for his reply. He wasn’t the only one I’d surprised, and I tried to ignore the voices in my head.

“That’s brilliant!” Delight, to no-one in particular.

“Are you fucking insane?” Mack, to me alone.

“Searching the schematics.” Tens, getting on with the mission.

They almost made me miss what the arach leader said next.

“You will have one day to rest, while we honor our dead—and then you will fight in the arena. You will be dead before we jump.”

They were going into warp?

“Until, tomorrow,” I said, and made to sit down.

The two arach holding me stopped me, and I felt them undoing my bonds. Their leader watched, as I massaged my good wrist, and then he made a show of having my weapons gathered and brought. After examining them, he turned to me.

“You expended a magazine and energy pack for the Blazer and blunted your machete. You expended a second magazine for your Zakrava. The blade will be sharpened, and the magazines and energy pack replaced, prior to the battle tomorrow. We will hold your weapons in trust.”

I held my ground, and then held out my hand.

“A warrior should maintain her own weapons,” I said, but he shook his head.

“A captive may not. These will come with me.” He turned away, returning towards the back of the room. Just before he stepped through the door, he stopped, and looked to the two soldiers holding me. “Make sure she has no other items on her.”

So much for trust. I thought about fighting to keep what I had, but decided I didn’t want any more injuries before I faced down a handful of pissed-off arach clansmen bent on vengeance. I raised my hands, and settled them behind my head, and let the last two arach empty my pockets. They were thorough enough to take the boot knives, but they missed the locator, which sat right under the cuff of my armor.

They also took the hood and mask for the armor, and made me kneel, before they were willing to let go of me.

“Do not move until the doors are closed,” they said, “or your bargain will be forfeit.”

I nodded, and watched them go. As soon as the doors had hissed shut, and I’d heard the dull thump of locking bars, I lowered my hands to my knees, and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was going to be a long night.

32—Home Again, Home Again

I was still kneeling, when the door opened. I lifted my head, but didn’t move, and the arach who’d brought my food didn’t come in.

“The Clan Leader says you are to eat.” He set a flask beside the tray. “And drink.”

“Thank you,” I said, and wished I still had some of my scan