Kringl (Rescued by the Alien)

Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

K ringl walked through the village, his senses on high alert despite the seemingly cheerful atmosphere. The small aliens led him deeper into their settlement, curtains fluttered behind windows as they passed the houses but few faces revealed themselves. Who was hiding from them?

As they approached the village square, Kringl's gaze was drawn to the enormous tree. It towered above the surrounding buildings, festooned with red and green orbs that glittered in the branches that were dusted with snow. He’d seen plenty of alien towns—and he’d even attended festivals on other planets—but he’d never seen a tree used as a focal point. At least he was pretty certain this celebration wasn’t a fertility festival.

The upbeat music still surrounded them, though Kringl couldn't pinpoint its source. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, although no one was singing. It set Kringl's teeth on edge.

He drew in a breath, the crisp cold now mixing with a scent both savory and sweet. It should have made his stomach growl, yet like everything else in the strange place, the aroma was off. It didn’t make his gut rumble with hunger. Not even close.

Kringl kept his blaster at his side as they skirted around the tree and headed for the large wooden building at the far end of the square. Its carved eaves and intricate woodwork set it apart from the simpler dwellings they had passed but it shared the green swags of garland. In front of the structure, ice sculptures glittered in the diffused sunlight, their crystalline forms depicting creatures celebrating. Icy arms were thrown up in joy and clear mouths were open as if laughing.

They’d clearly arrived on the eve of some important celebration, but he didn’t know when he’d sensed such a roiling undercurrent of tension. Even Prius I had been less tense, and that planet had been in the middle of a civil war.

“Your Highness,” one of his crew used a low voice to grab his attention. “Do you wish all of us to continue inside or should some of our party wait outside?”

What he meant was, should a complement of guards remain outside the doors in case of an external threat more significant than the small aliens who’d greeted them?

“I will go inside with two crew mates.” Kringl cut his eyes to the two nearest him. “The rest of you wait for us—and keep watch.”

He ascended the wooden steps leading to the heavy, red doors, and gave a final glance at the Valorians assuming positions at the base of the stairs, their heads shifting from side to side and their blasters at the ready. Good. He would be able to breathe a bit easier knowing he and the others would not be ambushed.

The small aliens pushed against the looming doors, and the barriers slowly opened. Kringl paused on the threshold before entering so his eyes could adjust to the lower lighting inside. The bright white of the snow was replaced by the soft glow of candles. Fresh garlands draped from the high, beamed ceiling, filling the space with the sharp scent he’d smelled outside. At the far end of the hall, a raised platform held a massive carved throne that instantly drew his attention. Actually, it was what was on the throne that made his breath hitch in his chest.

This must be the village's leader, Velsnickel, the little creatures had mentioned. He had expected an imposing figure, but the leader was no larger than the other petite creatures, although he was swathed in a red garment trimmed with white fur. A pointed, red hat sat on his head and was adorned with a white pom-pom that bobbed slightly as he moved. His face was all sharp features with shrewd blue eyes that glinted as he tracked them walking forward.

Kringl could not stop himself from gripping his blaster tighter, especially when the leader’s face split into a wide grin that didn't reach his eyes. He had seen that same expression on mad kings and deranged dictators.

"Welcome, welcome!" The artificially jovial voice filled the entire hall and bounced off the rafters. "I am Velsnickel, ruler of this merry village. And who might you be, my colorful friend?"

Kringl straightened, drawing on his years of diplomatic training. "I am Prince Kringl of the Valorian Empire. Our ship experienced difficulties, and we were forced to make an emergency landing near your settlement."

“So, you do not hail from Earth? You were not sent by Santa?”

Kringl shook his head. “We do not, and I do not know of this Santa.”

The creature’s eyes flashed with an emotion Kringl couldn't quite identify. "Then how fortunate that you found us! And just in time for our celebration, too. Truly, it must be a Yuletide miracle!"

Kringl's brow furrowed slightly. He had a passing familiarity with some alien customs, picked up during his travels, but he had no knowledge of this Yuletide. Still, something about the way Velsnickel spoke of it struck him as odd.

"You are most kind," Kringl said carefully, "but I'm afraid we require nothing more than permission to remain near our ship while we make repairs. We wouldn't wish to impose upon your hospitality or interrupt your festivities."

Velsnickel waved a small hand dismissively. "Nonsense! We couldn't possibly allow you to spend Christmas Eve huddled in your ship. You and your crew simply must join us for the celebration around the tree. We insist!"

As he spoke, several of the small creatures that had escorted Kringl moved to flank the throne. If not for the sharp teeth that glinted when they smiled and the unsettling hardness in their vividly blue eyes, the aliens in their upturned shoes and green-and-red outfits might have been considered cute.

A chill skated down Kringl’s spine that had nothing to do with the cold outside. Every instinct he possessed was screaming that something was terribly wrong here. And yet, as he met Velsnickel’s expectant gaze, Kringl realized he had little choice but to accept the invitation. They were strangers here, outnumbered and in an unfamiliar environment. Until they could repair their ship, or he could get a message to his planet, they needed to keep the peace.

"You are too kind," Kringl said, inclining his head slightly. "We would be honored to join your celebration."

Velsnickel clapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the hall. "Excellent! The elves will show you and your crew to quarters where you can refresh yourselves before the festivities begin."

“First, let me return to my ship.” Kringl gestured to his dark cloak. “We are not attired for a celebration.”

The leader flicked stubby fingers at this, granting the request without speaking. Kringl fought the urge to release a sigh. At least, they could return to the ship and apprise the others. That was something, although he didn’t hold out hope that the ship was already repaired or that they could escape as he wished.

As the elves led him from the hall and he rejoined the crew waiting at the bottom of the steps, Kringl couldn't shake the feeling that they had walked into a trap—one festooned with twinkling lights and wrapped in glittering garland, but a trap nonetheless.