Preston was dreading this encounter. Catarina and Garret Breaker were waiting outside the tall double doors, and Preston fought the urge to deck Breaker. He’d done his best to throw them under the bus, and he’d failed.
On a day like today, in front of the fearful First Ruler’s watchful eye, Preston wouldn’t be surprised if Garret made a power move.
“We’re in this together, right?” Cat asked them both.
Breaker responded with a smile. “I’ve apologized for that. The First Regal of Tarre forced a confession out of me. I wasn’t in the proper state of mind.”
“Good.” Cat wrung her hands nervously. “What do you think he wants?”
“The Ruler? Probably to grind our bones and make a tea,” Preston said. He was more anxious than he’d expected. Sweat formed on his palms, and he wiped them on his pants.
The archaic stone castle reminded him of fairy tales from childhood books. He used to love reading stories to his son, and years later, to little Arlo. His grandkid had demanded he recite at least one each visit. Preston would wow his young mind with various voices, entertaining him until well past his bedtime.
Something caught his attention above the doors, and he spied a tiny glint of light. A recording device, probably. The longer he stared at the walls in the corridor, the more miniscule cameras he recognized. The Velibar were watching their every move, which meant they were likely always listening.
Catarina was about to make a comment, but he quickly grabbed her wrist.
“Shhh. I think we’re being watched.” The words hardly escaped his lips. Preston let go as the double doors spread wide.
Oleth Con, the First Regal of Biks, greeted them. “Come.”
Preston noticed Ulinor, the First Regal of Tarre, was present. Garret stood taller when they entered, and Preston’s nerves were on. Something was afoot.
The room was gigantic. A huge circular space, all made from stone. Steps surrounded the edges of the place, and they led to the center, where a pool sat as the focal point.
It was humid, and drops clung to Oleth’s tentacles as they wavered over his lips. Preston had spent enough time with the First Regal to know when he was uneasy.
“Are we okay?” Preston asked his liege, keeping his voice low.
“I think so.” That was the answer Preston would receive.
There were a dozen soldiers inside the throne room, each of them holding spears. He’d read that long before the Velibar had pulse-emitting weapons, they’d preferred to kill one another with sharp, pointy objects. It seemed that these guards were living by the old ways. Preston respected that. He estimated unseen defenses were scattered around as a precautionary measure.
Another two Velibar stood near the pool’s edge, and they watched the water lapping against the stone as if expecting a ghost to arise from the murky depths. They wore the same patches on their shoulders, naming them First Regals. There were four, and to have all gathered in the same room meant this meeting was important. Oleth had informed him that the First Ruler rarely called them together more than once a decade.
The floor trembled, sending a light layer of dust drifting from the ceiling. The lanterns flickered as the water began to ripple from the center of the pool out. Catarina stepped closer, clutching Preston’s arm, while a grating noise erupted from the water and a platform rose. A dark stone throne came into view, with an ancient Velibar sitting on it.
This had to be the First Ruler. Where the rest of the Velibar had dark and healthy skin, his was a pale gray, his cheeks sallow, his eyes covered in a layer of cataracts. Long tentacles drooped above his slit of a mouth, but they were lifeless, like the meat had been sucked out of them. He was thin, but not skinny. A layer of fat clung to him desperately.
After meeting countless Velibar over the last few years, Preston had imagined the First Ruler as the biggest and meanest alien around. To find he was an old man, decaying underwater, was a complete shock.
No one spoke. The four First Regals formed a line near the edge of the pool. Their leader’s throne was a good twenty paces away, with water creating a physical separation.
The First Ruler remained seated as he carefully observed them. Preston doubted he could see far with those eyes, but his gaze settled on Preston nonetheless. He finally broke contact and returned his attention to his minions. He began to speaking the tongue of the Velibar, and Preston translated in his head.
“You have been summoned.”
“Yes, First Ruler. We are here to serve,” the four Regals chorused.
“Are we prepared for invasion?”
They let Oleth speak for them. That was telling. “We are ready, First Ruler.”
“And is Earth as great a prize as you’ve suggested?” the old man asked. Spittle dripped down his lips.
Preston tensed as their conversation turned to his home. This was it.
Oleth didn’t flinch. “Earth is a fine prize.”
“Who will go? Who will speak on our behalf?” His gaze drifted to Garret and back to Preston.
“Preston Lewis.” Oleth turned and pointed at him.
“Step forward.”
Preston did as he was ordered, leaving Cat and Garret behind.
“We have been in contact with one of your people. He assures me there will be no issues. Perhaps he will communicate for us,” the First Ruler said.
Preston stayed still. Who could they possibly have spoken with?
“Why should we allow you to act on our behalf?” The Velibar man shifted in his seat, and Preston noted the glint off a spearhead beside his throne.
Preston cleared his throat and attempted to speak in the alien language. “I am loyal to Oleth Con, the First Regal of Biks.” He
