The ride within the black metal ship was calm.
Each ship carried twenty people, with four ships assigned for this hunt. Two ships for soldiers, one for the cooks and helpers, and the last ship carried supplies. So there were sixty of us instead of eighty.
Some hoped to make something of themselves with a good kill. Perhaps an Iron Swan. Others simply wanted to get it over with and return home to their beds.
As the ships landed, my brother was the first to exit alongside Sir Rickon. He looked more like a statue given life than any human or Solrein. Yet the head atop all that metal showed that beneath it, he was still flesh and blood, with the bright green eyes of a Solrein.
The sun was high in the sky as we arrived at the Eastern Isles.
The ships landed around a clearing. The Eastern Isles were warmer than the rest of our world. Sandy beaches, small wooded areas with sparse trees, and shallow creeks ran through the land. Rivers flowed gently, and narrow cracks only a foot or two wide carried crystal-clear water. There were forty-five of these small islands that made up the Isles.
Even the grass here was shorter and lighter in color.
"Hey kid, don't forget you still have a lesson tonight. So don't overdo it today," Venula said as she approached from my right, having finished speaking with one of the guards.
My father had insisted she come along to keep my lessons consistent. I hated it. I also hated hunting. My brother always tended to overdo things. And a hunt would be the perfect place for him to do just that.
Yet her dark gray pants and large dark blue overcoat made me hold my tongue. It was hard to forget she was my sword instructor when her colors mismatched the guards and servants so clearly. That pendant seemed to stare me down, as if one wrong word would mean a harsher lesson tonight.
"Of course, Lady Venula. However, I must be on my way with my brother," I said, stepping away. I felt her eyes follow me. If I did not know better, I would guess my father had asked her to keep an extra eye on me.
I spotted my brother quickly, his short blond hair standing out. Guards in black metallic overcoats were setting up crates as they formed camp. As I walked through, they moved almost perfectly aside to let me pass. Like water, they simply flowed around me.
Some had already removed their flat caps to enjoy the breeze. The air here felt warmer than in the highlands of the estate. Nearby stretched golden sand beaches, mostly untouched.
As I approached my brother, I saw Sir Rickon turn and head into the small forest with six or ten guards following the towering armored figure.
"What's going on, Rayland?" I asked as I got closer. My black leather boots shifted oddly atop the sand, golden grains clinging to the dark leather.
"Grav ships. We think they're galactic trading ships," Rayland said, gesturing toward the shoreline.
Large circular dents marked the sand, each nearly twelve feet wide. Clear signs of grav ship liftoff. And large ones at that, judging by how spread out they were.
"So we're thinking trade ships. That means poachers," I said. He turned to me with a slight smile.
"Yes. I already sent Rickon to scout the area. We believe they're still here. Otherwise, the water would have washed away the prints by now. Seems we're hunting poachers today."
His smile widened. The camp was nearly complete within minutes. The tents, made of nano-fields, shone black with sharp angles like miniature pyramids. Inside each was a black box acting as a beacon, allowing the nano-fields to anchor properly.
"Yes, I suppose so. The tracks would be deeper if they were attempting to exit the planet's field," I muttered.
Rayland was already moving toward his tent, larger than the others and placed in the center.
Far off in the distance, the roar of a gilled lion echoed. I silently hoped the poachers would not target them. Male gilled lions were among our family's most prized creatures. Used across worlds for hunts, taken young and trained like hunting dogs, only far more deadly and loyal.
They were few in number. A single pelt could sell for five hundred thousand credits. A fortune to most, but insignificant when you owned worlds and traveled galaxies. One of my father's warships could sell for nearly thirty million credits, and that vessel was over eight hundred years old.
The rest of the day I spent preparing in my tent, even eating dinner there as the sun began to set. Then Venula appeared at the entrance, her longsword at her hip.
"Come along, kid. Let's get you some practice in. I gave you a week to practice stances. Time for a duel."
I had already grabbed my sword and followed her. The gladius was much shorter than her longsword, and today our blades were sharp. No dull weapons were brought on hunts. I wished we had used them now. She led deeper into the forest until a small drone hovered above us, its warm light glowing like a tiny sun.
I slowly unsheathed my sword. She did the same. I did not realize it at the time, but I was smiling. I had grown to enjoy these duels, even if I hated losing.
"Ready," I said, not as a question.
She swung immediately.
Her longsword came down like a butcher's cleaver. This time, I blocked. Her blade slid along mine in rapid strikes, left and right, snapping against the metal.
I stepped forward, slamming her sword aside and closing the distance. She took a half step back and struck from above, far too fast.
I could not block. I saw it in her eyes in that split second. White. The arms were no longer atom flesh. My body went calm. A predator's stillness.
Sidestep. Her blade struck the dirt. One step. Two. Breath and swing. Within half a second, I gained ground and swung full force toward her head. Shouting erupted from somewhere back at camp.
This was not Venula Zen. This was a skin shifter. Or something of the sorts. It changed how it looked. And now I was alone against it. Caught off guard.
My blade met a curved black dagger. The figure's face shifted into that of a thin, pale man with long limbs. He stepped back. The longsword was wrong. Same silver blade, but sharpened differently. One hand held the dagger, the other a cleaver-sized sword.
White eyes stared at me calmly.
"You're faster than I thought, child," he said, grinning. "But you'll need to be faster when my brother learns of your existence."
The shouting grew closer, then stopped. The forest darkened. The tall figure retreated into the shadows. My body jolted awake. Sound returned. Venula stood over my cot, confusion on her face as I sat upright.
"Sorry. Weird dream. Practice, right?" I asked.
She stared at me.
"I have been trying to wake you for nearly an hour. No one could wake you, my lord. You have been overdoing it. Rest tonight. Sir Rickon returned minutes ago and located the poachers' ship. They plan to make the arrest at first light."
She turned and left without another word. No grin. No teasing. Wait.
Did she call me lord instead of kid? What got into her?