Vellmar the Blade

by Fletcher DeLancey

  grainbird: a small black and red seed-eating bird common in agricultural fields. It is known for singing even at night, leading to an old perception of the birds as lacking in intelligence—hence “grainbird” is also a slang term for an idiot.

  grainstem powder: powder derived from crushed stems of a particular grain, which yields a sweet taste. Commonly used in cooking; also used to sprinkle over fresh bread.

  hedgedog: a small, round-bodied herbivore commonly found in agricultural areas. Known for the fecundity of the females and the high sex drive of the males.

  joining: sexual relations. Joining is considered less significant than Sharing between lovers. The two acts can take place simultaneously, though this would only occur in a serious relationship.

  magtran: a form of public transport consisting of a chain of cylindrical passenger carriers accelerated by magnetic fields through transparent tubes.

  midmeal: lunch.

  molwyn: Fahla’s sacred tree. It has a black trunk and leaves with silver undersides. A molwyn grows at the center of every temple of decent size.

  mornmeal: breakfast.

  producer: a member of the agricultural caste (also includes fisherfolk).

  Return: the passage after death, in which an Alsean returns to Fahla and embarks on the next plane of existence.

  Rite of Ascension: the formal ceremony in which a child becomes a legal and social adult. The Rite takes place at twenty cycles, after which one’s choice of caste cannot be changed.

  shannel: a traditional hot drink, used for energy and freshening one’s breath. Made from the dried leaves (and sometimes flowers) of the shannel plant.

  skim: to sense any emotions that an Alsean is not specifically holding behind her or his front.

  Sharing: the act of physically connecting the emotional centers between two or more Alseans, resulting in unshielded emotions that can be fully accessed by anyone in the Sharing link. It is most frequently done between lovers or bondmates but is also part of a bonding ceremony (in which all guests take part in a one-time Sharing with the two new bondmates). It can also be done between friends, family, or for medical purposes.

  shek: vulgar slang for penetrative sex. Usually used as a profanity.

  sonsales: one who is empathically blind.

  templar: a member of the scholar caste whose work revolves around religion.

  teffalar: a product made from a rare tree, used in the manufacture of sword grips. It wears well, absorbs vibrations and sweat, and costs a fortune.

  tyrees: Alseans whose empathic centers share a rare compatibility, which has physiological consequences. Tyrees can sense each other’s emotions at greater distances than normal, have difficulty being physically apart, and are ferociously protective of each other. Tyrees are always bonded, usually for life.

  vallcat: a large, powerful cat adapted to hunting in long grasses.

  winden: a large six-toed mammal, adapted to an alpine environment. It is wary, able to climb nearly sheer walls, and the fastest animal on Alsea. Winden travel in herds and are rarely seen.

  zalren: a venomous snake.

  Excerpt from

  The Caphenon

  CHAPTER 2:

  Night-three call

  Half a lifetime of training had Andira Tal on her feet and mostly awake before the vidcom could chime a second time. She yanked a robe over her sleepwear and strode toward the dining area, where the large vidcom hung over the table. A call at night-three could only be bad news, and the ID confirmed it. Chief Counselor Sunsa Aldirk would not wake her unless it was something he couldn’t handle on his own for a few hanticks, and there was very little that Aldirk couldn’t either handle or delegate.

  “Yes, Aldirk,” she said as soon as the screen went active.

  “Lancer Tal, we have both a state and military emergency. I’ve just received a call from Whitemoon Base, which patched me through to the Astrophysics Laboratory.” He paused, giving her time to wonder what sort of mess could possibly involve government, military, and astrophysics simultaneously.

  “And?” she prompted.

  “And we are possibly being invaded by aliens.”

  Were it anyone else, she’d have thought it a prank. But even aliens were more believable than Aldirk pulling something like this. Wordlessly she gestured for him to continue.

  “The lab confirms an incoming space vessel on a trajectory which will end fifty lengths northwest of Blacksun. It was initially flying straight toward the city, but the ship has been continually adjusting its heading. The scholar in charge is of the opinion that it’s attempting to land in an unpopulated area. Colonel Mendalia from Whitemoon Base postulates that the aliens think we can’t detect them and are attempting to surprise us.”

  Shocked as she was, Tal could still see the hole in that theory. “They had to fly right past our observational satellites to enter our atmosphere. They’d be idiots to think we can’t detect them.”

  Aldirk’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t think of that,” he admitted. “Then why put down in the middle of agricultural fields?”

  “I have no idea. But I do know we’ll be there to meet them. I’m putting Blacksun Base on immediate scramble, but they’ll need more time than we probably have to fully mobilize. We’ll have to have an early greeting party. I’m taking my Guards.”

  “Lancer Tal! You cannot possibly go out there—”

  “I cannot possibly stay here,” she interrupted. “Three thousand generations of Alsean history just ended, Aldirk. The only question now is what our future will be, and you would have me cower inside the State House while somebody else finds out whether or not we’re about to be exterminated?”

  He looked at her for a moment without speaking, his face softening into an expression she’d never seen before. “Be careful, Lancer.”

  “I will.”

  Eight ticks was an impressive response time. Tal stood by her state transport, watching her Guards shout back and forth as they loaded gear and weapons, and felt a swell of pride in their professionalism. Like her, they’d all been asleep eight ticks ago. Now they were in full combat kit and preparing for a mission that none of them could have conceived of before now. And they were doing it without a moment’s hesitation.

  Colonel Corozen Micah strode toward her, his bristly silver hair shining in the landing pad’s floodlights. “We’ll be loaded in another five,” he said as soon as he reached her. “But the biggest thing we’ve got are the shoulder-mounted launchers. I don’t like going in this way.”

  “I don’t either, but we can’t afford to wait. The Astrophysics Lab says they’ll be landing before we even get off the ground, and we’re easily a hantick ahead of the fastest deployment a heavy weapons unit could make.”

  “We could wait for the aerial support. That would at least give us class four and five missiles.”

  “We could, but they’re still scrambling their launch and farther from the landing site than we are. Colonel Northcliff estimated they’d be arriving half a hantick behind us. Do you want to wait that long while aliens land their ship and do Fahla knows what?”

  “I don’t want any of this,” he grumbled. “I liked it just fine when we thought other life in the universe was something we argued about over a bottle of spirits.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. Even at a time like this, Micah’s gruff humor remained intact. “That argument is over for all time, Micah.”

  They watched the Guards, having given all of the orders they could for the moment. After half a tick of silence, Micah asked, “Have you woken up to this yet?”

  She shook her head. “No. You?”

  “No,” he said, looking up into the night sky.

  She followed his gaze. Though their largest moon washed out some of the stars, and the State House’s landing pad lights interfered with many more, the brighter ones showed through. She knew
every constellation and in which seasons they came and went. Right now the Archer hovered over the northern horizon, her arrow—or his, nobody had ever agreed on that topic—aimed at the Winden fleeing toward the east. The Treecat was right over the Archer’s head, the final star in its tail marking the Northern Home Star, which forever remained still while all of the other stars moved around it. They were ever on the march, but always knew where their home lay. Every Alsean, even those who cared nothing for the constellations, knew where the Home Star was. She’d learned about it when she was four.

  Looking at it now made her ache inside. These stars had always been her comfortable companions, their timelessness offering a sense of security and a connection to her ancestors. She had never minded night watches when she had been a Guard, so long as the sky was clear and she could see. The earliest Alseans had looked upon the same stars, seen much the same patterns, guided their travels by them. But now it all felt different. These stars weren’t safe anymore. Their mysteries weren’t just for scientific and philosophical exploration. Something had come out of them: a giant ship that even now was screaming through their skies with unknown intentions. Whatever happened next, Alsea would never be the same. The import of the moment was so immense that she still couldn’t grasp it, and yet she had to. She was the Lancer, and the whole world expected her to lead.

  Never had the title weighed so heavily.

  Her wristcom buzzed and lit with a message. She read it and stared at Micah. “It should be right over our heads in the next tick.”

  As one they turned to face south, where the massive main dome of the State House loomed fifteen stories high. The landing pad sat at its base, a short walk from the Councillor’s Entrance. Paths radiated out in all directions, winding their way through the trees and formal gardens that made up the walled park. She had often been out for a run at this hour, enjoying the quiet, the rare privacy, and the darkness.

  It was not dark now. Aside from the floodlit landing pad, the State House itself was ablaze with lights in all five domes and on every floor except the fifteenth, where her own quarters were located. She could see shapes hurrying back and forth across the large windows, everyone busy on some frantic errand.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Micah said. “If it’s that close, shouldn’t we—”

  An earsplitting boom cracked the sky in half, stopping her heart and sending every warrior on the landing pad into a defensive crouch. Simultaneous with the deep boom was the higher sound of breaking glass, and she watched in shock as seemingly every window in the State House exploded, the shards sparkling in the lights as they dropped to shatter on the ground below. A piptick later came the roar, louder than any transport engine she’d ever heard. It passed over their heads and moved off to the northwest, only gradually fading.

  She straightened and tried to calm her racing heart. It hadn’t been an attack after all. For a moment she had expected the State House to explode along with its windows, taking her and everyone else with it. But the ship had kept going. It hadn’t even slowed down.

  All activity on the landing pad had come to a standstill, her Guards staring at the State House or in the direction of the receding roar. Next to her, Micah rubbed his chest.

  “Holy shekking Mother,” he murmured. “Now I know what cardiac arrest feels like.”

  She nodded in agreement. “And we’re going to meet that with hand disruptors, rifles, and a few shoulder-mounted launchers.”

  He met her eyes. “Second thoughts?”

  “Second, third, and fourth. But we have no choice.” Raising her voice, she shouted at her still-stunned Guards. “Move it! Get the rest of this gear on board; we lift off in three ticks!”

  Projection

  Fletcher DeLancey

  An erotic short story in the Chronicles of Alsea

  Lieutenant Telorana Candini settled the bottle more comfortably in the crook of her arm and pressed the call button. Before she had even released it, the door unlocked with a snick and Guard Soral Dewar spoke through the com.

  “Enter, Telorana. I’m in the kitchen.”

  She pushed the door open and found Soral standing in the archway across the room, a small towel in her hands. “How did you know it was me?”

  “I felt you coming into the building.”

  “Right. I’ll never get used to being around an empathic species.”

  “If it helps, we still haven’t gotten used to the fact that there are other species.”

  “Good point.” Telorana stopped in front of Soral and took a moment to admire her features.

  When they had first met, at the base of an escape ladder on her crashed ship, she had been startled by how alien the Alseans appeared. Though Gaian races the galaxy over were varied in their builds, skin tones, and other phenotypical measures, they were still recognizably Gaian. But the Alseans’ facial ridges marked them as something distinctly other.

  Six weeks later, she viewed those ridges as exotic and beautiful—especially Soral’s. The ones along her cheekbones cast enticing shadows, and she longed to trace the fan-shaped design on her forehead.

  There were other, unseen ridges, she knew. The thought of them had intrigued her ever since she learned about the unique Alsean reproductive system. Today’s news had given her just enough courage to do something about it.

  “Captain Serrado pulled us into a meeting today,” she said. “The Protectorate finally found a shuttle to come get us. We’re leaving in twelve days.”

  Soral’s gaze softened, then dropped to the bottle in Telorana’s arm. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about losing a friend?”

  “You won’t lose me. We can still talk on the quantum com.”

  “Not quite the same thing, is it?” She turned and tossed her towel back into the kitchen, then pointed toward one of the comfortable chairs by the window. “Sit.”

  Telorana sat and watched her fetch a pair of glasses from the sideboard. “It’s not the same thing, but I’ll be back. We have a treaty. That means a rotation of ships being sent out here, and I’m sure I’ll be on one of them.”

  “For a while.” Soral brought the glasses back, expertly pulled the tab on the bottle, and poured the smoking blue spirits. Taking the other chair, she lifted her glass and said, “To unexpected friendships with smooth-faced aliens.”

  Telorana laughed. “To unexpected friendships. And courage.”

  Soral raised her eyebrows as she drank, then set her glass on the small side table and waited.

  That was the thing about Alseans, Telorana thought. They knew what you were feeling, so they didn’t ask questions. They just waited until you spoke.

  She cleared her throat. “So, um…this is the part where I usually talk about short lives and war and how we don’t know what will happen, so we should live while we can.”

  Soral nodded.

  “Right. And, well, I think that speech would be lost on you because you’ve probably known since the day we met that I’m attracted to you.”

  “I was wondering how long it would take you to say something. Quite a long time, it turns out. I thought you had a reputation as a wild one?”

  “I do, but…you’re different.”

  “Because I’m empathic?”

  “Because you’re you.” She didn’t know how else to explain it. She had been fascinated by Soral Dewar since the moment they had met. An hour before, Soral hadn’t known of the existence of her species. A minute before, she and twenty other Alseans had been training weapons on Telorana, her captain, and her commander. But as soon as Soral understood that there were hurt people still inside that ship, she had unhesitatingly followed Telorana into the wreck.

  For half the night they had worked together, and Soral amply demonstrated both her skills as a medic and her gentle, caring nature. How someone like that could also be a fierce warrior, one of the elite Lancer’s Guards,
was something Telorana still couldn’t understand. In the Protectorate Fleet, there were doctors and there were soldiers. The two jobs required different training and different personalities. But Soral was an intoxicating blend of both.

  Soral tilted her head. “I’m attracted to you as well. But I’m also very aware of our different physiologies.”

  “That’s part of the attraction for me.” Telorana grinned, feeling more confident now that she was past the issue of rejection. “That and the empathic part.”

  “You want a Shared joining?”

  “Is that possible?” Because if it was, fuck yes, she wanted it. To join both bodies and minds? Where else in the galaxy would she get the chance?

  “I’m sorry,” Soral said. “Overcoming your lack of empathy would take too much focus. I can join with you, or I can Share with you, but not both at once.”

  Telorana sipped her spirits to cover her disappointment. A moment later she realized how ridiculous that was with an empath sitting across from her, but it was hard to break the habits of a lifetime.

  She set the glass down and reached out to run her fingertips along the back of Soral’s hand. “But maybe you could do one after the other?”

  Soral’s smile was beautiful, white teeth flashing against dark skin as her eyes crinkled nearly shut. “That I could do.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Which would you like to start with?”

  Telorana closed her fingers on Soral’s wrist, pulling her up with her as she stood. “This,” she said, and leaned in to kiss her.

  They might have physiological differences, but kissing was exactly the same. She sank into it, molding their bodies together as she buried her fingers in thick curls. Her desire surfaced abruptly when Soral pulled her closer, caging her with strong arms. Alseans had very dense musculature, and Telorana found that strength to be one Hades of a turn-on.

  Their kisses grew more intense, hands rubbing curves and planes, and Telorana gasped when Soral cupped one of her breasts, unerringly capturing a nipple through the fabric of her shirt.