“The story goes that it was left for me after my birth by a small faye delegation. But my father probably just looted it from somewhere or other. I don’t know.”
“I thought the faye were a native species, overrun by humans.”
“They are,” she shrugs. Astaria is not good on specifics for many things, not because she is stupid or obtuse, but because she has been kept from so much knowledge.
At that moment, the communicator light starts to flash on the helm dash.
“They are attempting to open a line of communication. Do you want to speak with them or should we obliterate them?”
“Let’s see what they have to say.”
The voice that comes through the channel is smooth and calming, like a waterfall dashing across the rocks of an enchanted glade.
“Blackmane, honored warlord, may we come aboard and speak with you and the royal on your vessel?”
That’s a very polite request.
“Sure. Why not.”
I keep my reply short and to the point. We do not know these aliens, which means we do not know their capacities or temperaments. They speak as though coming aboard the Dawnhammer is like going to a friend’s home, somewhere they will be comfortable. The fact that that they are stepping into the core of my warship does not seem to concern them — and that should probably concern me.
“High alert,” I order. “Everybody armed.”
“Fortunately, we’re already on high alert, thanks to…” Redpelt makes a gesture with his eyes toward Astaria, who smiles, looking very pleased with herself.
We are going to have a sample of the strangers’ tech in our docking bay soon, and I am rather excited to hear what our technicians think of it. I am always looking for advantages in battle. If the Dawnhammer was able to disappear and appear at will, we would be able to wreak untold havoc on a chaotic universe.
As their stunning ship slides into our hold, the rest of the dancing lights disappear. I am not certain that there was ever anything more than one ship out there, casting illusions of itself across the sky.
I am there to greet them, as is Astaria. She has become my little shadow of late. Obviously, whatever this is about, it is about her. I would be more concerned about her safety if she was a typical princess, but I think Astaria might be able to take better care of herself than most of my soldiers, several of whom are backing us up.
The ship in the bay looks simple enough. At rest, it is little more than a horizontal egg shape with about as much in the way of color and design. A door appears in the side of the thing, sliding open to allow a gangway to extend down to the hold floor.
I glance over at Astaria and see that she is watching, thoroughly enthralled.
Three figures come down the gangplank. They are all male, and tall, almost human save for the faintly purple marbled appearance of their skin, and the swept back pointed tips of their ears. They are wearing armor, and they are armed. Purple plate edged with gold covers the majority of their bodies. Their hair is long and silken, flowing down their backs in loose plaits. They are beautiful creatures, whatever they are, though there is a physical frailty to them that makes me feel my might in comparison. I am a beast to them, and they speak to me as though they too have come to the same conclusion.
“Thank you for welcoming us aboard your legendary vessel,” the leader of their little gang says. “I am Savork of the faye.”
“Fuck off.”
It is not me who swears in their faces. It is Astaria, who has been using me as an alien shield all this time. She was overcome with shyness or fear, or perhaps she simply wanted the element of surprise. Now she steps out to confront them. She has her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.
“Stop lying. You're not the faye.”
“We very much are. You must be Astaria.” Savork speaks to her with indulgent patience just barely tinged with obsequious respect.
“I am,” she says.
“You are even more beautiful than we imagined,” Savork breathes. All three of them, Savork and his un-introduced wingmen, stare at her in a way I can’t say I appreciate. There is something of the wolf behind their calm gazes, a want and a need.
“Don’t be creepy,” Astaria rejects the compliment.
I can tell she is also curious, but she does not want to give into any kind of excitement. She was born of the faye. She must be thrilled to see them, no matter how much she scowls and growls.
Savork turns his gaze to me with some effort. It is not often that I am forgotten while in a room, but I can understand being taken by Astaria. She is stunning. And petulant. But mostly stunning.