by Luna Hunter
“At least explain it to me,” I say. “Why allow humans? Why now? What changed since I left?”
“A lot has changed, Fenrir,” my father says. “The universe is constantly changing. We might not notice it down here on Audur, living according to the old ways like we do, but the only constant is flux. Humanity is now a member of the Intergalactic Alliance, believe it or not, and ambassador Vilmar himself asked me if I would entertain human guests. I intend to honor our ambassador’s request.”
“Vilmar? That spineless bastard?”
“Watch your tongue. Vilmar has been chosen by all the jarls to represent our kind to the Alliance, and it us our duty to support him. Or do you need me to give you a history lesson? Do I need to remind you how all the Falurians were in a constant state of civil war before we discovered interstellar travel? How we were inches away from blowing this entire planet to bits before we discovered we weren’t alone in the universe? It was the Intergalactic Alliance that saved our species from total annihilation, and I will always stand by that. You are too young to remember, but I’m not. I’ve had close friends die at the hands of my fellow Falur. My brother, your uncle, being one of them.”
I wait in silence for my father to finish speaking, my anger subsiding. He never speaks of my uncle.
“I hoped the Magni would tame your wild spirit, but I see you are as rash as ever. I’ve heard about your duel with Oskar’s son, you know.”
“How?”
“This is my mountain, boy. Assume I know everything.”
“What did you expect me to do?” I growl. “He challenged me. That is our way, our tradition. Should I have refused him?”
“You didn’t need to break his wings.”
“If I had gone easy on him it only would have shamed him more. I have taught him a lesson in humility.”
“Ha,” my father laughs. “Clan Oskar, learn humility? Now that’s the first good thing you’ve said.”
The throne room door opens, and a messenger informs us the human delegation has arrived.
“Excellent,” my father says. “Send them in. And I expect you to behave, Fenrir. If you ever want to set another foot on this mountain again, you’ll keep that maw of yours shut.”
“I’ll do my best.”
3
ABIGAIL
I’VE NEVER SEEN anything this beautiful.
My face is plastered to the window of the shuttle as I watch the gorgeous planet of Audur come ever closer. I can already see the many, sprawling peaks that dot its surface. Nothing could have prepared me for this moment.
I am in awe.
“Pretty nice view,” Nathan says.
“You could say that again,” I answer.
“Eh, just another rock,” Boris says as he cleans his fingernails with a knife. “Don’t see what the big deal is.”
We three are the landing party,. Boris figured that the less humans we have with us, the less chance the Falurians will get upset.
“I wouldn’t tell the Falurians that,” I say. “For your information.”
“Those big lizards? What are they gonna do, eat me?”
I shudder at the thought. “Who knows… and I’d rather not find out.”
Vilmar, the Falurian ambassador we just spoke to, warned us extensively about the local’s flaring tempers, back on the Observer. He was extremely clear about the power structure on Audur: The Jarls rule is law. Vilmar controls the Falurian foreign policy, but on the planet’s surface, the local rulers have complete sovereignty. Meaning that if we cross them, we’re on our own. Or ‘shit out of luck’, as Boris interpreted it.
He also made it very clear to me that we shouldn’t expect anyone to speak Universal on the surface, meaning that it’s up to me to make sure we don’t all end up in some Falurian prison deep underground
No pressure, right?
“How much longer before arrival?” Nathan asks.
Boris checks the console on the shuttle. “One more hour ‘till landing. Then, we have a short hike ahead of us. Might take two to three hours, tops.”
“Three hours? You call that a short hike?” I say.
Boris smirks at me. “Got a problem with that, missy?”
“N-no,” I say. “But why the hike?”
He taps his knuckles against the glass window. “See those jagged peaks? Can’t really park this shuttle on one of those, can I? We have to land at the base of a mountain and climb our way up. Those beasties have wings, so they fly everywhere. We, however, need to walk.”
Nathan whips out a deck of cards from his back pocket. “Come, let’s play a game of Galactic Wars to pass the time.”
“I don’t know that game,” I say.
“It’s easy, I’ll teach you. You can play the Zoran Empire, while I’ll play the Human Federation.”
Nathan hands me a stack of cards and quickly lays out the rules. We both play cards from our hands, and whoever has the highest military score wins that round. First person to win three rounds wins the game.
I’m more interested in the artwork on the cards than the rules, though. I rifle through my deck and see that all the famous Zoran have their own cards. There’s King Vinz, with his fit silver chest bared, and General Drax, with his chiseled, blue form on full display.
“They made a card-game out of the Zorans?!” I ask.
“Oh yeah,” Nathan smirks. “You can collect them all. It’s a huge hit; everyone’s playing it. Rumor has it they’re already working on expansions for other species as well. Now that we’re joining the Alliance, I’m expecting Falur and Melek and Tyk’ix cards soon.”
“It doesn’t make a lot of sense though.”
“How come?”
“The Human Federation could never beat the Zoran,” I say. “So I win by default.”
Nathan rolls his eyes. “You haven’t even seen the best part. Go ahead and play a card. Any card.”
I pick the King Vinz card from my hand and lay it down on the table. I yelp in surprise as a holographic image of Vinz himself pops up above the card, like a miniature version of him is standing on the table. He’s flexing his big, silver muscles, and growling menacingly.
“W-what,” I stammer. “Is that?!”
“That’s King Vinz,” Nathan laughs. “Cool, huh?”
I lay the other Zoran cards on the table, and for each general I put down, a little holographic guy pops up, all of them shirtless. The images are so detailed and lifelike I can even count their abs.
“Why are they all half naked?”
Nathan shrugs. “I guess because they are more popular that way.”
“Do the Zoran know about this?”
“I don’t know,” he answers. “I’m not about to tell them! Now, watch this.”
Nathan plays a Human Federation card – Captain Simopoulos, of Vonnegut Station. A small instance of the round, pudgy man appears on the table in front of us. He looks around surprised and clueless, as if he wasn’t expecting to appear on our table. Instantly the holographic image of King Vinz charges forwards, tackling the human to the ground. The captain never stood a chance. Vinz then rises up, victorious, and does a hilarious victory dance, ‘raising the roof’ with his hands as he wildly thrusts his pelvis.
I can barely control my laughter at the ridiculous sight. I instantly understand why this game is such a big hit, though I fear the Zoran might not share our profoundly human sense of humor about this matter. “That’s amazing,” I say. “Simply amazing.”
“See, told you you’d like it,” Nathan smirks. “Come, let’s play.”
The hour flies by as I play the silly game with the chief mining engineer. Before I know it, we’re about to land on the alien homeworld. The card game helped me forget my anxiety for a brief moment, but as soon as the doors open, it kicks back in with full force.
The shuttle-door opens with a hiss, and fresh air comes rushing in to greet us. I take in a deep, long breath, and I’m surprised by how clean the air feels. It makes sense, though. The Falur fly every
where, so they have no hover-cars, and no pollution from transportation.
That’s very different from Earth, where there’s so much smog in the cities you can’t even see the top of skyscrapers anymore when you’re on the ground.
I step outside and the sight of the mountain looming over me takes my breath away. The jagged peak seems to reach all the way up to space itself. High, high above that I can see the Observer orbiting in the sky.
“We don’t have to go all the way up, right?” I ask. “That will take us a whole week.”
Boris shrugs, which doesn’t fill me with confidence. “We’ll see.” The bald man opens up a hatch and, to my horror, pulls out an automatic rifle. He slings it over his shoulder and straps some ammo onto his belt.
“What?” he says when he sees my incredulous stare.
“You’re planning on taking that?” I say. “A gun? To a meeting?”
“You heard what the ambassador said. The Falurians have short tempers. I need some protection.” Boris taps his gun. “This is that protection.”
“As your translator, I strongly urge you to leave your gun here. I don’t think we want to appear at our first meeting touting guns!”
“Your concern has been noted and dismissed,” Boris says. “Let’s get moving.”
He stalks off, walking up the mountain, leaving me with my mouth hanging open. I can’t believe him. If his stubbornness gets us all locked up in some dank, dark dungeon…
“Forget about him,” Nathan says. “He has his own way of doing things. It’ll all work out, trust me. Come.”
I don’t have any other option than to follow the two men up the mountain. I take a quick second to take in the wonderful landscape, the majestic, green valley that seems to stretch out endlessly in front of me. I sure hope this isn’t the last time I get to enjoy this view…
“Just a few more steps, come on.”
Nathan holds his hand out for me while I’m left gasping for air. I am so not prepared for this hike. Every inch of my body is drenched in sweat, and my face feels like it’s about to explode – I must look like a tomato. I pulled my hair into a ponytail so it would stop sticking to my face.
I have no idea how long we’ve been at this; I lost the ability to think miles and miles ago. I just focus on taking one step at a time. That’s all I can at this point.
“Keep moving,” Boris yells.
“I’m trying,” I wheeze. “I’m spent.”
“I see an entrance up ahead,” he yells.
Yes.
I muster energy I didn’t know I had left and push myself those final yards up the mountain. Boris and Nathan are waiting for me in front of a cave entrance.
“What took you so long?” Boris says.
I am too tired to come up with a sassy remark. Instead I just rest my hands on my knees and gasp for air.
From the darkness of the cave two figures suddenly loom up. They’re both Falur – tall and broad-shouldered with slightly pointed ears. Their eyes are narrow yellow slits, like cat’s eyes, and they’re fixed right on me.
“Hver ver dar?!” they bark menacingly.
“Vid mennir,” I say, breaking my tongue on the difficult words. I pray I said the right words and didn’t accidently insult their breath or something. When conversing in alien tongues it can be a precariously thin line between being polite and insulting someone’s mother…
The two aliens exchange a quick glance. They’re wearing bright red armor with spikes on their shoulder pads, a symbol of a flame visible in gold on their chests. Clan Dagur territory, as Vilmar explained. At least we climbed up the right mountain.
“Vylga.”
The two aliens turn and walk briskly into the dark cave.
“What was that about?” Boris asks. “Going to eat us yet?”
“They told us to follow them,” I say.
We follow them into total darkness. Luckily, Nathan was smart enough to bring a flashlight. I suppose he’s not just the chief mining engineer because of that striking smile of his. He lights up the dark cave, but I can’t see the two Falur anymore.
“Hae?” I ask, to no reply.
The narrow hallway takes a few twists and turns before opening up into a large, circular room, with torches hanging on the walls. I look up, but I can’t see the ceiling. The walls seem to rise and rise and rise, endlessly. Suddenly, the very cave itself vibrates. A heavy breathing sound reaches my ears, and my heart leaps into my throat. The sound is so low I can feel it reverberate inside my chest. Nathan gasps behind me, and I snap around.
What I see makes my knees buckle and my hands tremble from sheer astonishment.
A giant red dragon is standing in front of us. It breathes smoke out of its nostrils as its big, yellow eyes study us. I’m paralyzed by fear, rooted to the spot, as I struggle to take in the reality of the monstrous beast in front of me.
“Holy shit,” Boris gasps as he reaches for his gun. Before he can raise it, one of the Falurian warriors comes charging towards him, almost as if he appeared out of thin air.
“Haetta! Haetta!” he shouts. “Klifra upp a drekann!”
“What is he saying?!” Boris yells. “I’m going to blow this bitch’s brains out if it doesn’t back up!”
“Stop!” I say. “He’s telling you to stop, and for us to, to… climb on.”
“Climb what now?” Nathan says.
I nod towards the lumbering beast that lurks in front of us.
“That… thing.”
“You are kidding me, right?”
“Klifra upp a drekann!” the Falur repeats, quickly losing his patience with us, judging by his tone.
“I’m afraid he’s not,” I say. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but here it goes… “I think we should climb on that drekann.”
The beast lowers it head so that we can climb on. I’m absolutely petrified, but the Falur standing behind me is not giving me any other choice. Up the dragon we must go.
Nathan hops on the beast’s neck with a quick jump. He holds his hand out for me, and even though every fiber of my body is resisting, I grab his hand and he pulls me on. The dragon’s scales are cold and hard; almost metallic in feel. I hold onto Nathan’s side as best I can.
Boris climbs on behind me, muttering under his breath.
With a heavy kick we’re off – soaring through the air. Nathan hollers in joy while I clamp onto his frame, my eyes shut tight. Wind whips my face and I feel tears streaming down my cheeks. I’ve never experienced any sensation like this, riding such a majestic beast, climbing higher and higher, ever higher. My stomach rumbles, and I fear that if this wild ride isn’t over soon I’m going to be sick.
“Open your eyes.”
I open them and to my surprise, see that we’ve already landed. The dragon has flown all the way up, near the top of the mountain, and landed in a spacious grotto. It now lowers its head so that we can climb off. More Falurian warriors are waiting for us, their faces hard and without emotion.
Behind us a large, dark pit looms. I can’t resist peeking down, and I instantly regret it. The tunnel goes straight down for miles, and vertigo instantly strikes. This must be the way we travelled up, and I’m amazed the dragon managed to climb this fast in what felt like mere seconds – though I admit, it could have been much longer. I stumble back, my knees nearly buckling.
“Fylgja,” a soldier says sternly. I nod at Boris and Nathan to follow the man as he guides us down a long hallway. The cave walls are decorated with tapestry depicting the history of Clan Dagur. Ancient battles and heroic victories are pictured, and I notice all of the battles feature red-armored Falurians fighting green-armored ones.
Two heavy oak doors swing open with a loud creek. On the other side, Jarl Dagur Daegonsson awaits us. The Falur leader sits on a throne hewed out of the rock itself. He’s wearing a regal red armor the color of fire, with intricate golden patterns decorating his chest. A crown with jagged edges, like the peak of this mountain, rests on his head. His hair is si
lver and long, flowing down his shoulders, and his icy blue eyes are staring right at me.
He reminds me of a warrior king of old, like a Viking warlord from the books I used to read when I was little.
However, despite the Jarl’s impressive appearance, my eyes are inexorably drawn to the man standing next to his throne, as if a mysterious force is guiding my eyes.
I’ve never seen anything like him. His long, black hair reaches down to his shoulders, tucked behind his elf-like, pointed ears. His armor is unlike the others – his is covered in scratches and dents, as if it has seen a lot of action. His strong arms are folded over his taut chest.
What draws me most to him are his eyes. His radiant eyes, as red as rubies, filled with barely restrained fury. I can almost feel the rage radiate out from him, like an aura that roots me to the spot, that makes adrenaline course through my every vein, that makes my heart throb faster and faster.
He’s unlike the other Falur in every single way. He seems almost feral, as if he’s ready to pounce on me at any moment, pin me against the wall, and do whatever he wants with me. A shiver runs down my spine at the mere thought.
The mysterious man’s lips curl up into a smile as he stares at me, baring his sharp fangs. My mind is swimming with strange thoughts, completely overwhelming me. For a brief second I see visions of the handsome and dangerous man, of dragons and mountains and battles and babies. I feel dizzy, but luckily, Nathan’s hand on my shoulder pulls me back to reality. The moment is over in the blink of an eye, and I’m no longer sure if it really happened, or if I just imagined the whole thing.
I blame the spell on the vertigo caused by the dragon’s ride, take a deep breath and straighten my back.
“Welcome,” the Jarl says in Universal. “Welcome!”
4
FENRIR
I AM NOT PREPARED for such a vision from the gods.
Humans are small, scrawny, weak, and dull. They lack the strength of the Falur, our quick reflexes, our agility, our sharp wit. They cannot fly, they cannot shift, they can only walk like lowly animals.
That is how I’ve always felt. That is the teaching of the Magni. Loyalty to our kind and our kind alone has been drilled into me over, and over, and over again. I see the truth in this doctrine: If we allow ourselves to lean on other species, we’ll grow weak, and in time, we will succumb.