Sweep of the Blade (Innkeeper Chronicles #4) - Ilona Andrews Page 0,101
Each wore a long white robe with a hood and carried a vala tree branch decorated with bells and golden thread. A low chant rose from their lips, a melodious song that floated through the chamber. Beautiful and timeless, it reached deep into one’s soul and found that vulnerable place hidden within. It wrapped around Maud and suddenly she missed her parents, Dina, Klaus, and Helen. She wanted to gather them all to her and hold on, because life was short and fleeting.
The procession split just short of entering the dais, the women moving along the main floor to encircle the raised platform, holding their branches straight up, as if guarding.
Twelve vampire knights entered the chamber, out of armor and dressed in plain black tunics, matching black pants, and wearing tall black boots. Each carried a simple black blade. A second chant rose from the men, joining the song of the women, deepening the melody, like a twin vine growing around the first. The song was everywhere now, echoing from the walls, reverberating back on itself, and Maud breathed it in.
The second column split in two and the men took position between the women, each with their blade straight down, its point resting on the floor.
The song changed, gaining strength and speed.
A Battle Chaplain entered the chamber. He was tall, his skin gray with a slight blue tint. A mane of black hair shot through with gray fell on his shoulders in dozens of long braids. His vestments, the color of fresh blood, were split into ribbons, each about eight inches wide, and as he strode forward, they moved and shifted like the robes of some mystic mage. He carried an ornate spear draped with a red cord and decorated with golden bells. Two glowing yellow orbs about the size of a large orange dangled from it.
The song erupted, suddenly full of joy and triumph.
Behind the Chaplain, the bride and groom strode into the chamber in unison, both out of armor. The bride’s gown swept the floor, long, diaphanous, and white. The groom wore an ornate silver doublet over darker pants and soft boots. They had removed all jewelry. Their hair hung loose, brushed back from their faces.
It was one of the rare few moments that vampires permitted themselves to be vulnerable in public. Maud hadn’t fully grasped the significance of it during her own wedding but now she understood. You came to the altar as you were, hiding nothing from your future spouse.
Arland reached over and squeezed her hand. She smiled at him.
The Chaplain ascended the dais. The couple followed and the three of them took their places in front of the vala tree. The Chaplain raised the spear and touched its end to the floor.
The chant died.
The Chaplain opened his mouth.
An alarm blared through the chamber.
A screen opened in the middle of a wall, showing a male vampire knight on the bridge of the battle station.
Arland rose to his feet. “Report.”
“We are showing multiple unidentified craft entering the system,” the knight said, his voice calm. “We are under attack.”
The banquet hall had gone completely silent. When the huge screen projected on the wall, it showed three merchant barges racing from the gate, deeper into the system, squeezing every drop of speed out of their protesting engines. Behind them, a pirate flotilla swelled like a swarm of angry hornets. A single barge could’ve fit all of its attackers in its bloated hull, but the pirate ships made up for their lack of tonnage in maneuverability and armaments. No two vessels were alike, but, limited only by the imagination of their crew and the laws of physics, all of them bristled with every possible weapon they could rig onto their hulls, from kinetic cannons to missile batteries. They chased after the lumbering merchants like barracudas ready to tear into an injured whale.
Arland watched the chase, his face impassive, as if unaware that every person in the hall was waiting for him to make his move.
“We’re receiving a distress call from the barges,” the officer from the bridge reported. “They are begging for our assistance, my lord.”
“Put it through,” Arland said.
A scratchy, static-filled distress call played from hidden speakers, screams of beings in pain, spearheaded by an urgent, desperate female voice, “…rear thrusters lost…hull integrity compromised…requesting immediate aid. We’re at your mercy…”
The call cut out.
“Will House Krahr stand idly by and permit this piracy?” the father of the groom demanded. His voice boomed through the hall.