Blaedergil's Host by C.M. Simpson (reading well .TXT) 📕

“Move your ass,” he said, and I gasped at the sound of him in my head.

Well, at least I knew he was back. The main question was ‘back where?’

“Hurry up so we can find out,” he said, and I finished scrubbing the regen fluid off my skin, and stepped out from under the water.

Mack handed me the towel, again, and then passed me the clothes being held by another hovering medic. All the time, he kept himself between me and the two... lords? in the room.

At least, I think they were lords. Neither of them impressed me much. They might be nobility, but there was very little noble, or gentlemanly about either of them. In fact, they reminded me of every rich prick I’d ever seen in every clichéd depiction of spoiled wealth I’d ever watched for entertainment.

I studied them as I dressed, taking in their looks, their clothes, the weapons hanging at their waists. It took me a moment to realize I recognized one of them. He had one arm in a sling, and a familiar look of watchfulness on his face—and he wore a dagger at his waist. I stopped when I saw it, and then lifted my gaze to his face.

By that stage, I was dressed, and I was furious.

Because, now, I knew what he’d done.

“You smug-faced, ass-fucking, dick-jerking sonuva—” Mack grabbed me as I took a step towards the man, and then he slapped a hand over my mouth, and pulled me tight against his side.

“Be nice,” he said, even as his voice echoed in my mind. “I need you alive.”

He did? I glared over his hand at the whomever-it-was standing by the door. The guy’s hands were hovering at his belt line, one set of fingers on the dagger hilt, the other above his sword.

They had swords?

“And they’re not afraid to use them,” Mack told me, in the privacy of our heads, “so, please, keep your mouth shut, and your body at my side.”

He wished!

“Not in a lifetime of nopes,” he added, and I blushed as he let me go.

That last comment had been totally uncalled for. I saw curiosity flicker across the face of the two gentlemen waiting for us, and then Mack spoke.

“You had something you wanted to discuss?”

At least it took their attention away from me. Both men glanced towards him. It was the younger, stabby one that answered.

“Follow us,” he said, and he turned and led the way from the regen room without another word of explanation. His older counterpart followed on his heels, as though Mack and I were no threat at all.

Well, at least he’d called that right.

The minute we stepped through the door, I saw why they weren’t worried; another dozen men lined the corridor outside. They fell in around us, flanking us as we followed our hosts down the hall. I risked a glance to both sides, and saw nothing that encouraged an escape attempt. These guys were soldiers, and they moved like they were living inside a combat zone...even inside the walls of what had to be their home.

What the Hells was going on with this world?

It was a question the Lord of the Corovan answered, when we were seated at the conference table, our escort arrayed along the walls on either side.

“We are one of eighteen clans,” he said. “Our forebears settled this world, and built a political system based on bloodline, trading power, and familial ties. You were hired by Clan Hazerna to retrieve the youngest of their daughters. By doing so, they violated an agreement they had made with m...”—the older man cleared his throat—“my clan.”

The older man nodded.

Mack glanced at me, and I glanced back, and then we both turned to stare at the young lord at the head of the table. Neither of us asked what it had to do with us. We just waited for him to get to the point.

It was easier that way. I don’t think he was used to people waiting for him to explain, because it took him a couple of minutes to realize neither one of us was going to interrupt. With a quick look at his older companion, he continued.

“Melari was the second clanswoman Blaedergil took. The first was her older sister, Treivani. My betrothed.” He levelled a stern gaze towards us, and then settled his stare on me. “And that is why you are still alive.”

Mack flicked his eyes towards me, and I realized he hadn’t said anything via the implant, since we’d entered the room. I looked away from the lord, scanning Mack’s face. He didn’t seem the slightest bit amused, but I watched his mouth tighten at the edges, before he turned his attention to the Lord of Corovan.

“I take it you want to hire our services,” he said, and was met with a fierce grimace that didn’t quite qualify as a smile.

“No, Captain Star, I’m going to offer you a fair exchange.” He paused, making sure he had Mack’s and my undivided attention. When we both returned his gaze, he explained. “Your lives and freedom, for the return of my future bride-to-be...alive.”

I licked my lips, and looked up at Mack. This was his call, his boat, his business, his crew.

“We’re owed payment for the last delivery,” Mack said. “You need—”

I was guessing these soldiers weren’t just soldiers—and that Mack was very lucky to still have his head. Some things a regen tank just won’t grow back. Me? I wasn’t moving a muscle.

I could see the two soldiers kneeling on either side of Mack’s chair, one hand on his closest shoulder, the other holding a curve-bladed dagger. Both their blades rested along the length of his throat, their tips just piercing the skin on the underside of his jaw. I didn’t need anyone to explain the hard grips I felt on my arms, or the sudden pain under my chin.

It was hard not to panic, harder still not to fight. I locked myself down tight, and kept