Shift, Chapter 12

NB: I hated writing this chapter. It sucks. But it only gets better from here on kids!

***

THE LAWS

1. Refusal to acknowledge The Laws will be punished severely.

2. New Laws can only be created by the agreement of the entire Court.

…

14. A Leader may only take rule if he takes it according to the established laws of that Kingdom.

Extract from “The Laws: in translation.”

***

“I can’t see them any more,” Rhydyn said in a tone of great disappointment.

“They’ve probably moved on,” Tanon replied resignedly.

“They were getting closer,” he said, still infused with some optimism.

“Who knows where they’ve got to,” Tanon shrugged.

Suddenly, two forms materialised in the centre of the room, stretching and unfolding into two women. One was slightly taller than the other, with piercing silver-blue eyes, but they were otherwise very similar in appearance. Rhydyn and his parents jumped back in shock.

“Who are you?” Rhydyn asked warily, his eyes moving between the two.

“I am Riarna Ruanthi and this is my sister, Srynia Ruanthi. We are horse farmers from Ystia.”

“Ystians? Well, citizen of Callania, I suppose I had better introduce myself in return,“ he replied with a touch of ironic grandeur. “I am Prince Rhydyn and these are my parents King Tanon and Queen Elerina,”

“Your highness,” Riarna and Srynia murmured in unison, inclining their heads in a royal salute.

“Less of that,” Rhydyn replied, waving his hand in a slightly admonishing gesture. “Twins are you? Non-identical though.”

The sisters nodded acknowledgement of the fact.

“What brought you here? It isn’t safe, you know,” Elerina asked, a slightly worried frown creasing her face.

“I just knew we had to come,” Riarna replied, slightly embarrassed. “We want to know what we can do to help.”

“We’ve lost both our parents to this war already,” Srynia added, with a shake of her head. “We want to put things right.”

“There’s nothing we can do from here,” Rhydyn replied and began pacing the room, rubbing one hand against his neatly trimmed beard. “How did you get in here anyway?”

“Flea-form,” Srynia replied proudly. “They are very poor at recognising Invertebrate-shifters.”

“It is very rare to find invertebrate-shifters,” Elerina replied in some surprise, looking at the two sisters with increased respect.

“We just want to know what we can do to help,” Riarna said, looking at each of them individually.

“Our country is in dire need of military assistance,” Tanon replied, meeting her gaze. “Even with the help of Aetyorthiri, there is little we could do against the combined strength of Silvetera and Arrozale.”

“Could we not turn them against themselves? Like in the old days?” Rhydyn asked, a slightly hopeful expression crossing his face.

“Not as such,” Elerina replied, looking thoughtful. “Penry is too clever for that.”

“We could try to prove that his control of Arrozale is illegal,” Tanon continued thoughtfully.

“Illegal? He’s the King; he makes the laws,” Rhydyn exclaimed, slightly bewildered.

“But if it is illegal, then there is some hope for us yet,” Tanon replied, leaning against the window frame.

“We could incite the assistance of the Law Makers,” Elerina continued serenely, folding her hands delicately across her lap.

“Of course!” Rhydyn exclaimed excitedly, “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Srynia said in her most polite mannerisms, “but who are the Law Makers?”

“The Tygeriqans,” Rhydyn replied with a broad smile. “The pinnacle of power in the East. They influence every Kingdom from Gentrare eastwards. They make certain incontrovertible Laws. And they enforce them. They are singularly the most powerful military nation in the world!”

“But why would they help us? We’re not an Eastern Kingdom,” Riarna asked curiously.

“Money,” Tanon stated blandly. “They were constantly fighting a tax-war with Silvetera over trading rights and such. If we could prove this war was both illegal and financially detrimental, they’d be bound to act.”

“That’s no small ask,” Riarna replied dubiously. “How do we even begin to do that?”

“First, we’ll need to speak to Aetyorthiri. We need to be sure they are on our side,” Tanon replied, with a nod of his head.

“They may be able to help us put together our case for the Tygeriqans,” Elerina continued.

“From there, we will probably then have to travel East. Meet the Leaders directly,” Tanon added, with a slightly wry smile.

“But first, we’ll have to bust our way out of here!” Rhydyn exclaimed happily, rubbing his hands together.

“You will have to,” Tanon corrected. “Elerina and I will remain here.”

“But you’re not safe here! Penry is probably counting down the days until he has you executed!” Rhydyn replied in some distress.

“No, your father is right,” Elerina answered him firmly, putting her hand on his arm. “We are the elected monarchs of this country. If we escaped, Penry would tear the country apart looking for us. He will not spare the same expense over you. I’m sorry to be so blunt. But it’s true.”

“I don’t know whether to be pleased about that or not,” Rhydyn replied ruefully.

“You can still act as our Royal Emissary. Speak on our behalf in the Councils,” Tanon added, his tone reassuring.

“First we need to think of a way of getting you out of here,” Riarna said thoughtfully. “Can you manage any small-scale shifts?”

“Some,” Rhydyn replied, shuffling his feet slightly uncomfortably. “How small-scale are you
talking?”

“Well, Srynia and I got in as fleas. Something of that sort?”

“Well, ah, there’s the thing…” Rhydyn looked to his parents for help. With none forthcoming, he soon continued. “I can only do mammalian shifts. I can‘t do any others. Of any description.”

“Not even temporarily?” Srynia replied in some surprise.

“No, sorry. Never been able to. Sorry.” He looked slightly ashamed. Srynia gave him a sympathetic look, just restraining herself from giving him a hug.

“There are some small mammals,” Riarna said, tilting her head as if sizing him up. “What’s your strongest species?”

“Dog.” Rhydyn shook his head, blushing slightly at their raised eyebrows. “I know. Not very regal, huh?”

“Dog could work,” Srynia affirmed optimistically.

“You know, it actually could,” Riarna added, striding over to the door and running her hands down the panels.

“How exactly?” Rhydyn asked, slight doubt tingeing his tone.

“You keep dogs here, right?” Riarna asked, turning away from the door.

“Some. But they’ll know the difference between a Shifter and a dog. Otherwise I’d have tried to escape days ago.” Rhydyn gave her a slightly patronising look.

“Do you keep a hunt?” She met his gaze evenly, although slightly affronted.

“We do,” he replied cautiously.

“Good distraction, don’t you think?” she replied, returning his patronising tone measure for measure.

“High risk strategy,” Tanon interrupted the two.

“But it might just work,” Elerina added with a smile.

“We haven’t even thought of a way of escaping from this room yet!” Rhydyn exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Mice,” was all Riarna said, raising an eyebrow, a slight smile curling round her lips.

“Mice? This plan just gets more and more crazy!” Rhydyn shook his head. “Fine! Anything to get me out of this room.”

“You’ll have to show us the way,” Riarna replied with a nod.

“Ok. But mouse is not a strong shift of mine. I might get a bit disorientated.”

“You’ll have to try, son,” Tanon reassured him, “You’re our best hope.”

“Don’t lay so much responsibility on the boy,” Elerina lightly rebuked her husband.

“It’s alright, I know what’s at stake. I won’t let you down.” Rhydyn set his expression, putting his hands on his hips. Srynia smiled encouragingly at him.

“Let’s go then,” she said and with a flourish and shifted down into a delicate brown house mouse.
Riarna immediately joined her, whilst Rhydyn closed his eyes, focused and slowly shifted down, emerging as a slightly patchy field mouse.

“Close enough,” Srynia squeaked with a wink.

“This way,” Rhydyn squeaked back. “At least, I think…”

***

Dear Dylanon,

I read your last letter with a great deal of interest. As I am sure you are aware, I have the best interest of the country at heart. I need not remind you, I am sure, that you do not have the power to act against me. So do not even try.

Your devoted Uncle,

Penry, King of Silvetera and Emperor of the Realms.

Extract from: Inter-regal Letters: a compendium.

***

With a resounding clang the metal doors of the Council Chamber swung open. The gathered crowd gradually grew quiet, waiting patiently for the announcement that was soon to come. A man and a woman emerged from the room, arm-in-arm, sweeping toward the podium, trailing their extravagant burgundy furs in their wakes.

“We come before you today to make a most serious announcement,” the man began. “It is our duty to deliver the final verdict of today’s Council meeting. It is a decision that I, King Lahaldi, fully sanction.”

With which he gestured to the woman standing to his right. She straightened slightly, lifting her head high.

“It is likewise a decision that I, Queen Reya, fully sanction,” she announced in a clear, smooth voice.

“It has been decided that Aetyorthiri will not go to war,” Lahaldi proclaimed loudly. “That is all.”

The crowd erupted in a cacophony of mixed responses. Some were cheering, others were heckling abuse. The royal couple merely turned and re-entered the Chamber, muting the noise from outside.

“It is as we expected then,” a soft voice whispered somewhere to the couple’s left.

“Yes, Leiron,” Reya replied resignedly, “the crowd are as undecided as the Council.”

“It’s not a good day when even the mob can’t find a single voice,” Lahaldi added with a bitter smile.

“We’ve made the right decision,” Leiron Reikiseryndrani replied in a smoothly reassuring tone. “We cannot act on the behalf of Callania in the current climate.”

“I know. I just wish we could do more,” Reya replied with a sigh.

“We are doing more than the crowd will ever realise,” Leiron said with a sly smile. “That does not mean we are not doing enough.”

“I suppose you have another update for us from Daiiroda?” Lahaldi asked with cautious optimism.

“I have certain news that it would be best we discussed in private,” Leiron replied with a small, sharp smile. “Perhaps your majesties would be so kind as to consider making an invitation.”

“Of course we would,” Reya replied mirroring his smile, “We would be most pleased to extended you an invitation to take visit with us.”

“I would be obliged,” Leiron swept into an elaborate bow. “If an hour’s time from now is convenient, then I will be able to prepare myself more adequately.”

Lahaldi and Reya nodded agreement and watched as Leiron did a quick bow and slip backwards amongst the myriad of corridors. Then together they ascended the sweeping staircase, leading up to the vaulted platform that connected the Chamber to the Castle.

Carnival: Who kiled the Praetorian, Part Six

Scribblers Go Green! (illustrated) 3

Scribblers go green! (illustrated) 2

Scribblers go green! (illustrated)

I couldn't resist having a go at drawing this. I used Paint. I think you can tell. It is really hard to show who says what, so we're each getting coloured speech bubbles. I suppose I could have spread it out over several panels, but I didn't think of that before now. And now it's Too Late.

Scribblers: Going Green

Scribblers: Going Green
Issue Two

Scene the First: In the National Assembly (which is swish and in Cardiff.) The Scribblers are leaving as AMITY waves them off out of the door. PROF CLARKSON is in the background with the PRIME MINISTER, bothering him about the necessity of blowing Solariax all to hell right now. As they leave, AMITY whispers to the others.

AMITY
What do I have to do here, exactly?

FINESSE
Cover for us. Pretend you're linking us together mentally and don't let the Prime Minister agree with Professor Crap over there.

CHRONAL
And tell him he has an air of filth about him.

FINESSE
Don't tell him that.

CHRONAL
We have to go. We don't have much time.

AMITY
You realise you've given me the most boring job ever?

WRAITH
Ha ha. Amity is like Anne from the Famous Five.

AMITY
You've made me Anne?!

CHRONAL
No, seriously. We really don't have much time. Barely more than half an hour, it's rubbish.

SHIFT
You get to mentally influence the Prime Minister's opinions and courses of action in the honourable service of your country and you think you're the tea girl?

AMITY(slightly sullenly)
Yeah, all right. Still boring, though.

FINESSE
So make it into a game.

LYRIC
With lashings of top quality string and ginger beer.

CHRONAL
You know I feel the flow of time, yes?

FINESSE
We'd best leave or he'll be fretful. See if you can find out if anyone else here is in on Professor Crap's scheme.

AMITY
Can't believe I'm Anne...

They leave. AMITY sighs and wanders nearer to PROF CLARKSON and the PRIME MINISTER.

PROF CLARKSON
... fact is, though, Prime Minister, we can only safely blow the Heulobattery with an absolute guarentee of success in the next eight or so minutes.

AMITY
But what about the hostages?

Both men turn and stare at her, and AMITY puts on her best polite smile. It's a bit terrifying, since it's hiding the fact that she could change your entire personality and sense of self with a wink. Anne, indeed.

PRIME MINISTER
Hostages? There was no mention of –

PROF CLARKSON
Because there aren't any.

AMITY
Solariax has a large contingent of night staff, in fact. If the place is locked down then they won't have escaped; blowing the plant will kill them.

PRIME MINISTER
Then I'm hereby pinning all our hopes on the Scribblers.

PROF CLARKSON
You – what?

PRIME MINISTER
Yes! I won't risk those people's lives!

PROF CLARKSON
But –

PRIME MINISTER
I shan't!

PROF CLARKSON
I really –

PRIME MINISTER
Silence, man! I must say, there is an air of filth about you.

He strides away to the other polititans, trailed slightly morosely by PROF CLARKSON, and AMITY watches thoughtfully.

AMITY
That was fun, but maybe I overdid it slightly.

Scene the Next, all aboard the Trans-Jet. WRAITH is driving, a slightly manic-looking grin on his face as the others watch him with some trepidation. SHIFT is clinging so tightly to the arms of her chair that her fingers have developed octopuss suction cups on their undersides. LYRIC has the expression of a man very carefully choosing his words, and in fairness, he probably is.

FINESSE
Right! This will do for us, you can stop here.

SHIFT (mutters)
Oh, mercy thy name is Finesse...

WRAITH
Are you sure? I can probably get you a bit closer before the electro-apocalypse destroys the plane.

FINESSE
Er... best not risk it, eh?

LYRIC (whispers)
You absolute traitors.

WRAITH
Okay. Going down.

They sort of fall out of the sky, stopping barely an inch from the floor and abruptly hovering. Realistically WRAITH is probably the best pilot of all of them since he can do this without crashing, but it's not a viewpoint any Scribbler subscribes to on the grounds that most of their plane journeys are spent watching the insides of their eyelids or contemplating existentialism versus nihilism. Anyway; the door slides open and FINESSE gets out. Then she goes back in and morphs SHIFT's fingers back to human form, and they both leave the Trans-Jet under the resentful stares of LYRIC and CHRONAL.

CHRONAL
How will you get there now in time?

FINESSE
Ah! That's the most stylish part.

SHIFT
Thoroughbred?

FINESSE
Andalusian, thank you. I like to save the world in style.

SHIFT
Good choice.

LYRIC
Is that some kind of code?

SHIFT pauses, and then morphs into an Andalusian horse prancing on the spot. LYRIC laughs as FINESSE leaps onto SHIFT's back.

LYRIC
Excellent! Captain Awesome! Why can't I ride in to save the day on a white horse? I even have a sword!

FINESSE
There are rules against you looking too suave. Also, you can't ride.

CHRONAL
And it's a grey horse, not white.

FINESSE
Good boy.

CHRONAL
Yay!

WRAITH
'It' is Shift.

FINESSE
'You' are running out of time, even with Timey-Wimey there. Get going.

CHRONAL
Good luck!

FINESSE
And you.

She turns SHIFT around and they gallop off into the night. CHRONAL concentrates and the Trans-Jet flickers out of sight.

Scene the Next, at FossCarbon Inc Main Offices, which are in Port Talbot. The Trans-Jet flickers onto the roof and CHRONAL and LYRIC appear on the outside of it so fast you'd have thought that they'd teleported. WRAITH appears at a much more moderate pace, painfully casual. Clearly, he's an evil genius. I don't know how no one's noticed.

CHRONAL
Right. I'm going to run through and search their computers. You guys will have to handle any goons around the place. And keep an eye out for anything suspicious.

LYRIC
Any suspicious objects?

AMITY (over the comm)
That's some kind of sex joke, isn't it?

LYRIC
Well, it was going to be. It feels a bit uncomfortable now.

CHRONAL
Split up. Let's go.

They sneak through the roof access and into the building. CHRONAL time-freezes and slips away into the offices, where he starts hacking into the FossCarbon computer systems. LYRIC finds his way into a large industrial area, on some metal walkways above a big room full of industrial gas containers. WRAITH finds his way into the same room, only on the floor.

WRAITH
Lyric. I can see you.

LYRIC
I can see you too.

CHRONAL
Stop stalking each other. That's not how it works.

WRAITH
Yeah, well, I don't do your ridiculous mainstream definitions.

LYRIC
Um... Wraith? What's that machine down there?

WRAITH
I don't know. It's mainstream and therefore contradicts my life.

LYRIC
I don't think it's mainstream. I think it counts as Suspicious Machinery Get.

WRAITH
How rare.

He goes over to investigate, but at that moment GOONS appear! Oh noes! WRAITH stops and looks at them all.

GOON#1 (leering)
Alright, darling? You lost?

WRAITH
Darling?

GOON#2
Shit, he's got a beard...

GOON#1
Oh, er... sorry, mate...

WRAITH
You thought I was a girl?

GOON#1
Well, I... the hair, and...

GOON#3
Jesus Christ, we're meant to be killing him, not apologising to him.

GOON#2
Oh, yeah.

LYRIC (muttered)
Well, that was incriminating.

WRAITH concentrates, and suddenly three images of him appear while the real one fades from view. The GOONS look around themselves, a bit bewildered.

GOON#3
Oh, for the love of... Guys, seriously. Pick one each.

They all charge at the WRAITHS. Meanwhile, up on the walkways more GOONS arrive at each end, effectively trapping LYRIC. He sort of raises an eyebrow suavely and promptly goes all ninja on their faces and ties them up in words and ropes.

Scene the Next. Back in the Assembly, which is in Cardiff. AMITY is wandering around the Assembly, keeping a surreptitious eye on PROFESSOR CRAP (I can't remember what I called him.) Finally, he sneaks out of the main chamber and into one of those side rooms with the tables and chairs and tea trolleys. AMITY follows, and stands in the shadows outside the door.

PROF CRAP (muttering quietly)
We could have a big problem, here.

MYSTERY EXTRA PERSON
Relax. The Scribblers are good, but even they couldn't work this out. Not when they've all run off to Solariax. They won't find anything there.

PROF CRAP
Except one of the Converters. What if they work it out from that?

OTHER GUY IN THE ROOM
They have twenty minutes. The Prime Minister –

PROF CRAP
And that's the other thing! I don't know what's gotten into the Prime Minister! I was talking to him about the possibility of bringing the deadline forwards, and he suddenly said I had an air of filth!

THE OTHER BLOKE
You do have an air of filth.

PROF CRAP
I... well, yes, but people don't usually say it to my face!

OTHER GUY
No, that's true. And not the Prime Minister. Hmm. It could be that remaining Scribbler...

PROF CRAP
Oh, god...

OTHER GUY
Don't worry. I have a contingency plan. I'll put it on stand-by. Now quick; get back out there. We'll be missed.

The doors open, and AMITY dives behind a plant. PROF CRAP slimes away along the corridor. Thirty seconds later, the room's other occupant leaves, and AMITY's jaw drops.

Scene the next, meanwhile. FINESSE and SHIFT gallop up to the Solariax main plant, the Heulobattery a big, ominous, glowing shape in the background, humming away. The gates are locked down tight with an air of finality and impregnability, the walls a good twenty five feet, like prisons. As they near it, a figure hovering in front of them and looking in appears. FINESSE gallops SHIFT to a halt.

FINESSE
Up there, see?

SHIFT snorts and tosses her head, impatiently. FINESSE rolls her eyes, and calls up to the hovering figure.

FINESSE
Hey! Little Miss Sunshine! Down here!

SOLAR
Hooray! You've adopted my name!

FINESSE
No, I was being witheringly sarcastic. One day you will learn to tell.

SOLAR
It's all the same with you.

FINESSE
You bring out the worst in me.

SOLAR lands, and FINESSE climbs off SHIFT, who trots around in a tight circle fretfully before her outline shimmers and she transforms back. FINESSE and SOLAR catch her as she staggers slightly.

SOLAR
As entrances go, that was cool as poo.

FINESSE
I know! We should do it more often.

SHIFT
Will you transform me back, next time? I think I've strained something...

SOLAR
She didn't transform you back?! What kind of a friend are you?!

There's a brief pause as both Scribblers yelp and rub their ears. SOLAR is bloody loud.

FINESSE
She has to learn. And why do you only have two volumes? Why must you either shout or whisper?

SHIFT
Now my ears hurt. And I'm strained.

SOLAR (giggling)
Oh, I'm sorry!

SHIFT (muttering)
But why? Why is she laughing at our pain?

FINESSE
She's a sadist. Anyway.

She hands a communicator to a still-giggling SOLAR, whose main super power is, in fact, the unbreakable ability to work herself into a state of hysteria, but nonetheless in this instance activates her secondary (and actually useful) power to produce energy. Electricity sparks momentarily, and then all three of them have working communicators.

SHIFT
Communication Get!

AMITY (over comm)
Hey! Guys! Welcome back!

FINESSE
How's everything at your end?

AMITY
Oh, you know. Worse than we thought. I think he may have the environmental minister on side.

FINESSE
What?

SOLAR
What?

FINESSE
Oh, shit.

SOLAR
What?

FINESSE
Er, we have to –

SOLAR
No! I'm sorry but what? The environmental minister has decided that receiving lots of money is more important to him than saving the environment?

SHIFT
I'm just going to stand over here...

SOLAR
Never mind the environmental impact of burning millions of tonnes of coal every year! Never mind the economic fall-out when the coal runs out and we have no replacement! As long as the bar steward gets his fourth god damned holiday to Australia every year!

FINESSE
Um, we need –

SOLAR
Or maybe he'd like a fifth car! Or a house with six more bedrooms so he can fill it with all of his whores! Or maybe he's developed some kind of rare blood disorder that can only be fixed by owning a football team rather than doing his bloody job! How in the name of all that is sacred did he even get this job?!?

AMITY
I think he's a Tory.

SOLAR
Spit on him!! Spit on him UNLESS HE IS ON FIRE!!!!

CHRONAL (over comm)
I'm with Solar.

SHIFT
Literally, so am I. We need to go now, though.

SOLAR
I'M REALLY ANGRY NOW!!!!

FINESSE
I AM THE WALRUS COO COO CACHOO!!

There is a comedy pause as everyone turns to stare at FINESSE. Well; SHIFT does. Back in the Assembly, AMITY freezes, staring at the poor, innocent Minister for Buses, who feels really rather scrutinised. In FossCarbon all three WRAITHs suddenly spin around on the spot to stare at the back wall, a move than confuses his GOONS to no end. Up on the walkways LYRIC even stops mid-word and mid-punch, balanced delicately on the handrails. In the main computer bank CHRONAL freezes, his eyes sliding to fix on his communicator, presently set to speakerphone. SOLAR, on the other hand, goes from foaming-at-the-mouth livid to collapsing in hysterical laughter in the time it takes to blink.

FINESSE
Works every time. Right. Give yourself wings, Shift. We're going in.

She pulls SOLAR to her feet and they both fly up into the air, propelled on SOLAR's stored energy. SHIFT flies after them as a peregrine and they land just outside the big, shiny glass doors at the front of the building.

SOLAR (slightly calmer)
You realise it's night, yes? I'll run out of energy.

SHIFT (morphing back)
We want you to. You're the back-up plan for when the Heulobattery explodes.

SOLAR
Is that definite? You didn't say that was definite. That's trading standards, I could sue.

FINESSE
No, 'trading standards' are the set of laws governing the information given to consumers about a specific project –

SOLAR (wails)
Stop being mean!

FINESSE
Stop being loud, Jesus...

SHIFT
It's not definite, technically. But, you know: Laws of Superheroics.

CHRONAL (over comm)
You're totally only going to stop it within a second of the time limit as well.

FINESSE
Especially at this rate. Time check, Chronal.

CHRONAL
Fourteen minutes left.

FINESSE
Good boy.

CHRONAL
Yay!

SHIFT
We need to get in. Solar?

SOLAR
Woohoo!

She lets loose a Massive Bolt Of Energy and obliterates the door.

FINESSE
Well congratulations. You defeated the door.

SOLAR(giggling)
Don't –

FINESSE
Oh, that's one door that will not be troubling you again.

SOLAR (giggling)
Stop it!

FINESSE
We're just thinking too small-scale with doors, you know. That's how you open one.

SOLAR
You're making me laugh...

FINESSE
Yes. The door wasn't, though, maybe that's where it went wrong. I think I stand a better chance this way.

SHIFT (ignoring them)
Any luck yet, guys? What are we looking for?

WRAITH
A big, suspicious machine, rubbish design. It looks like Suspicious Machine.jpeg. I could have done better.

SOLAR
Stop being mean to me!

FINESSE
Well, the door certainly has.

SHIFT
Let's go in, children.

They go in, SHIFT ignoring the sounds of FINESSE and SOLAR bickering.

Scene the Next: back in FossCarbon Inc, which is in Port Talbot. WRAITH is just polishing off his GOONS on the factory floor while LYRIC does the same thing upstairs.

WRAITH
Haha! Twatted, you girls. See? Didn't like that, did you? Being called a girl.

GOON#1
I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I just saw the hair, and I just...

WRAITH
My hair is manly!

GOON#2
Well, you could try tying it back...

WRAITH
Then I'd look pretentious. Do you just have no cultural sense?

LYRIC (calling down from the balcony)
Wraith! You alright down there?

WRAITH (morosely)
No, I'm a mess. People think I'm a girl and I haven't done anything with my life.

LYRIC
Dude, you're saving the world as we speak.

WRAITH
That only solves 50% of the problem.

CHRONAL (over comm)
I've done it! I'm in the system. Your Suspicious Machine is a new model of Tronflow Converter. There's another one in Solariax. The two of them have been linked by this computer, it's using some incredibly complex coding I don't recognise. It's why the FossCarbon systems are immune, though. And, indeed, why the Heulobattery has gone haywire.

FINESSE (over comm)
If we just break them...?

CHRONAL
No. It won't work. Not unless I can break the coding to redirect the electricity; otherwise it'll still blow up the Heulobattery.

LYRIC
Gay and lame. I am Lyric's complete lack of happiness.

CHRONAL
I'll work on the coding.

FINESSE
Good. Meanwhile, send Amity all the evidence you've got and can send the Assembly. Amity?

AMITY (on comm)
Hello!

FINESSE
Take him down. Don't spit on him, though.

SOLAR
No, do! Do spit on him! Unless he is on fire!

FINESSE
Don't... right, we're going after Professor Pearce-Morgan. Keep in touch, kiddies.

AMITY
I get to take down the corrupt government! Hooray!

Carnival: Who Killed the Praetorian? Part Five

Scribblers: Go Green!

So, I promised my sister I'd write this two days ago, but although I tried I couldn't think of a story until today. Also she specified that she wanted something funny, and I find humour hard to write. (whinge, whine, make excuses) Ultimately I came up with this and it was just going to be a quick little one-shot, but it's taking me longer to write than I thought, so I'm splitting it up. Also worth noting: the roster is the same but the hierarchy isn't. We all had a chat a while ago and decided our new jobs would be:

Finesse: Leader
Chronal: Tech Guy
Amity: Medic
Lyric: General Infantry. With a sword.
Shift: Tactician
Wraith: Person most likely to be eaten in a survival situation.

(Yeah, I'm not including the last one.)

Anyway: Tell us a story, Jackanory.

Scribblers: Going Green
Issue One

Scene the First: In Da Pit. The Scribblers are all chillin' out in their expansive and swanky living area, doing various activities. LYRIC is sparring with FINESSE, WRAITH is drawing amusing charicatures of everyone, SHIFT is hunting through the sofa cushions for a pack of cards and AMITY and CHRONAL are drawing up a list of rules for a new card game. I say AMITY and CHRONAL – AMITY is coming up with most of them while CHRONAL makes the list, because it's an Obsession.

AMITY
And I think there should be some brilliantly poetic rule about the picture cards in various situations! Like, if the king or queen gets put on top of a Tower of the same suit it counts as a look-out.

WRAITH
I'm never playing this game. It has more rules than I have fingers.

AMITY
But that's why we're writing them down!

CHRONAL
I'm making a List!

FINESSE
Yes, good boy.

CHRONAL
Yay!

AMITY
And it follows its own logic.

WRAITH
Logic is for squares.

CHRONAL
So's your face.

WRAITH pretends to cry. He is largely ignored. SHIFT suddenly straightens from her hunting in the sofa cushions, a pack of cards clutched triumphantly in one hand.

SHIFT
Success get! I have found the cards! Also: three pence in coins, a boiled sweet, two pens and Chronal's communicator.

FINESSE
All of Chronal's stuff, then.

CHRONAL
Excellent! I've been needing the pens.

FINESSE
Well yes. And, I imagine, the communicator.

LYRIC
Finesse, stop talking to them. I nearly broke your nose twice then.

FINESSE
But suavely.

SHIFT
Um... I'm not sure we can use these cards for this, actually.

CHRONAL
Really? Why not?

WRAITH
I bet they're Lyric's secret porn cards.

LYRIC
Why? Why is it always me at the receiving end of sex jokes?

FINESSE
Focus, Lyric. I nearly broke your wrist, then.

SHIFT
They aren't porn, they just have 'Amity won the poker' written across them all.

There's a brief pause as everyone looks at AMITY, who beams.

AMITY
I did win the poker! I'd forgotten! That was a great day.

CHRONAL
But... You wrote it across all of the cards?

FINESSE
And then forgot anyway?

SHIFT
Yeah, I can't help but see a wasted effort there. Also wasted cards.

Suddenly: darkness strikes! As in, there's a power cut and it's night, so there is abrupt darkness and an accompanying abrupt outpouring of noise. WRAITH, in the middle of his drawing, shouts out; CHRONAL, in the middle of his list, does the same; and there's a series of yelps as FINESSE and LYRIC, both in the middle of sparring, collide with each other and fall over in a tangled heap amid much swearing and threats of vengeance.

SHIFT
What on earth...?

AMITY
Er... Finesse? Lyric? Are you guys okay?

FINESSE
I'm not sure who's leg this is...

LYRIC
Is this - ?

FINESSE
No, that's me!

LYRIC
Er... sorry...

AMITY
Hang on.

She gets up to poke the lightbulb but promptly trips over WRAITH, who is trying to do the same thing. More crashes follow.

LYRIC
Ow! That's definitely not me!

FINESSE
Nor me...

WRAITH
Argh! It's me, you dystopia! Stop it!

SHIFT
He won't stop. This is exactly the excuse Lyric's been waiting for.

LYRIC
Again, why is it always me...

CHRONAL
Hang on, let me help...

OTHER SCRIBBLERS EN MASSE
NO!!!!!

It's too late. Chronal, aka Captain Clumsy, gets up and promptly trips over nothing so much as his own feet and lands on the pile of bodies, narrowly missing SHIFT as he does. There is much yelling and swearing once more.

LYRIC
God damn it!

SHIFT
I can't get around you all now to get to the lights. That's very inconvenient.

AMITY
Not the best decision you've ever made, Chrone.

WRAITH
Who's that, now?

LYRIC
That would be me. I'd tell you to stop, but apparently that would be out of character.

CHRONAL
Well, that just made everything a bit less comfortable.

FINESSE
Oh, for god's sake enough!

She flings out an arm and catches SHIFT's ankle.

SHIFT
Why, what are you – argh! Warn me before you do that!

LYRIC
Good lord, what has she done?

SHIFT
She turned my eyes into cat's eyes!

FINESSE
I can turn your vocal chords and ears into a bat's, if you'd prefer.

SHIFT
No! No, cat's eyes are fine. Warning is better.

FINESSE
Oh, whatever. The independent power supply switch is in the communications room.

SHIFT
Yeah, yeah...

She edges past the mass of bodies on the floor and leaves the room.

WRAITH
What, she couldn't have helped us up first? What kind of a friend is she?

AMITY
I know! We could play a game to pass the time!

FINESSE
Ooh, yes. "Statements That Could Make This Situation Worse." I'll go first : Argh, Lyric! Why are you naked?!

CHRONAL
Yes, that definitely makes it worse.

LYRIC
Firstly, that's actually a question, not a statement –

FINESSE
My game, my rules.

LYRIC
And secondly I'm going to kick your arse next time we spar. Oh yes. You will rue.

SHIFT (returning)
My turn! How about, "I can't find the switch"?

WRAITH
That had better be part of the game.

SHIFT
Sorry.

CHRONAL
Yes, that also makes it worse. Well done. Whose elbow is that?

AMITY
Oh, could be mine. Sorry.

FINESSE
It's next to the Solariax fusebox, on the left.

SHIFT
Oh, that! Hang on...

She leaves again.

AMITY
Remember when I won the poker? That was a great day.

LYRIC
Why is this even happening? I thought this building had solar panels and that stuff! Why are we not using the independent power supply anyway?

CHRONAL
Because Solariax were just starting out, and we wanted to support them. And since it's still green energy it seemed like the right thing to do.

FINESSE
The heroic thing, if you will.

LYRIC
Yeah, well, since they supply half the country now, I vote we switch back to our own power again.

FINESSE
You say that like you're not loving this.

AMITY
Yeah. We know the truth, Lyric.

WRAITH
Er... I think the table's about to fall on us.

AMITY
Are we still playing the game?

Suddenly the lights flicker on, revealing a comedy pile of limbs and costumes in the middle of the floor. There's a slight, awkward pause, and then everyone sets about extricating themselves as though nothing happened.

AMITY
So that list, eh?

CHRONAL
Oh, yes. And those cards. I think we could work them into the rules.

WRAITH
I can't find my pen. Can I have one of the sofa pens?

CHRONAL
Yeah, why not?

FINESSE
Enough practice for today?

LYRIC
No. You will rue.

SHIFT
Um, actually, ruing, carding and penning will have to wait. We've had a call.

FINESSE
From whom?

SHIFT
The Government.

Scene the Next: the Senedd, which is in Cardiff. The Scribblers park the Trans-Jet on the roof and slide down the big tree bit in the middle to land in the main council chamber. Lots of important Governmental types are there, and some worried-looking scientists. There's even the Prime Minister, who shall go unnamed so as not to date this otherwise stellar piece of historic fiction.

PRIME MINISTER
Welcome, Scribblers! We're glad you could make it. It seems we have a bit of an emergency.

FINESSE
The power cut?

PRIME MINISTER
Yes, although it's more than just a power cut, which would have been catastrophic enough itself. Er, this is Professor Clarkson, he'll be briefing you.

A slimy-looking middle aged man sidles forward, all white coat, clipboard and comb-over. He smiles at them, although it looks like an expression he has to practice several times a night in the mirror to remove much of the slime, and even as he does knows that he will only ever be moderately successful in doing so.

PROF CLARKSON
Scribblers! Delighted to meet you, although under such unfortunate cirumstances. If you'll all take a seat?

SHIFT (whispered to FINESSE)
Why must he speak in sentence fragments?

FINESSE (whispered back)
He hates the verb 'to be'.

The Scribblers all take a seat about three rows back from the front, because only squares sit by the teacher. SHIFT and FINESSE start passing notes to each other in a small notebook; WRAITH begins drawing amusing pictures of PROF CLARKSON and LYRIC aims a rubber band at CHRONAL's head. AMITY actually listens, because she's a good girl. PROF CLARKSON, meanwhile, starts off a power point presentation.

PROF CLARKSON
The power cut itself can be traced directly back to Solariax Ltd, who supply approximately sixty percent of the country with power including all hospitals, schools, police stations and other such municipal buildings. Fortunately, by now we've managed to reconnect all such structures by linking them up to the grid supplied by FossCarbon Inc.

AMITY
Already? That was quick.

PROF CLARKSON
Oh, FossCarbon is very efficient, my dear. Although, it's not quite as astonishing as you might think. They've long thought that over-dependence on something as unreliable as renewable energy might be... unwise, and so had such contingency structures in place.

AMITY has an Opinion on this opinion and exchanges a small glance with FINESSE, but they say nothing, because they are superheroes and it would be unseemly.

PROF CLARKSON
Now: to the problem itself. Solariax uses Heulobattery technology in order to store the electricity it produces before supplying it to the country. Unfortunately, the technology has been sabotaged from within, and it seems it has reversed its polarity – instead of sending the electricity outwards it is currently drawing it all back in, but it's still producing electricity. It doesn't have the storage capacity for all of the electricity. If it's not stopped, it will explode; the ensuing explosion will probably destroy most of south Wales.

FINESSE
How long do we have?

PROF CLARKSON
Right now, forty seven minutes.

FINESSE
Jesus god.

LYRIC
Well, that bites hard.

CHRONAL
So what do we do?

PROF CLARKSON
Well, there is the good news! We've been worried about this for quite some time, and so we've developed an energy signature that we can send to the Heulobattery that will trigger the auto-destruct sequence. It's designed to implode, so we can use it with up to five minutes to go and it will only destroy the plant and a five-mile radius around it.

SHIFT
So who's sabotaged it?

A new photo appears on screen of a slightly creepy-looking scientist with a Hitler moustache and stupid hair. It's really stupid hair, too. In fact, I won't even try to hide from you that this guy is a bad guy, because his hair is just too stupid to bother, so screw him. Bad Guy ahoy. WRAITH studiously begins an amusing picture of him, because this is how WRAITH explores the world and new concepts.

PROF CLARKSON
This man, a Professor Pearce-Morgan. He worked extensively on the Heulobattery, so whatever he's done, it's inherently in the system and can't be changed by anyone else. He's demanding the immediate transfer of all FossCarbon systems to Solariax.

CHRONAL
Or he'll blow up the country? What the hell is wrong with him?

FINESSE puts a hand on CHRONAL's arm and suddenly the world freezes around the Scribblers, leaving everyone else's face frozen in those incredibly unflattering freezeframes that cameras pick up but no one else. WRAITH snorts and throws the screwed- up drawing at PROF CLARKSON.

AMITY
He's lying.

LYRIC
What? Who? About what?

AMITY
Professor Clarkson. I can't be specific, but his brain is full of all the wrong chemicals and hormones and things. And he's in a high state of excitement; not nervous anticipation, positive excitement. He knows far more about this than he's letting on.

SHIFT
I could turn into a polar bear and beat him up until he confessed?

FINESSE
I'm not sure the PM would take that well.

CHRONAL
It did seem unlikely that a Solariax employee would sabotage the Heulobattery.

AMITY
Oh, er... that bit was true, I think.

CHRONAL
... Well, you know what that doesn't make? Sense.

LYRIC
Stupid hair, though.

FINESSE
I quite agree.

SHIFT
Solariax are slowly conquering the country anyway. Why on earth would he need to force a transfer?

FINESSE
He wouldn't, if he really was working for Solariax.

CHRONAL
Ah.

SHIFT
Oh.

LYRIC
Well, that can suck my inner –

FINESSE
You say such beautiful things. My theory, gang, is that we have a pair of evil scientists on our hands, here, and they're both working for FossCarbon.

WRAITH
Ahh. They had the power supply back so quickly.

CHRONAL
And such stupid hair.

AMITY
And when Solariax take over FossCarbon will be out of a job. So they've rigged the Heulobattery to blow or be blown up by us now, thus forcing the switch back to FossCarbon.

SHIFT
There must be some other way to shut it down, though? Mister Hitler there must have a back door.

FINESSE
That's true. Back to real time, Chronal, I have some questions.

CHRONAL concentrates and the world rushes back to normal, everyone's faces sliding into generally prettier expressions than the previous freakshow. It's not easy having time-freezy powers. You see gross faces all the time.

FINESSE
So, why can't we just stroll up to the main gate of the plant and force Professor Pearce-Morgan to undo what he's done?

PROF CLARKSON
Er... well, it's likely he can't. But even if he could, the Heulobattery is disrupting and draining all electrical equipment in an increasing radius. We couldn't get near except on foot, and it's locked down.

FINESSE
Aha! Well, fortunately, you're talking to the right people. We can get in.

PROF CLARKSON
But...

PRIME MINISTER
Do you think you could get him to reverse the process?

FINESSE
I have some persuasive team members, Prime Minister.

PRIME MINISTER
Well, that would solve everything!

PROF CLARKSON
But...

PRIME MINISTER
Yes, yes, okay. You have thirty minutes, Scribblers, but then we have to send the signal. Understand?

FINESSE
Yes, sir.

She pokes CHRONAL into another time freeze.

FINESSE
Right. Plan time, Shift.

SHIFT
Okay. Amity, you're staying here under the pretence of running dispatch, since they'll think our comms don't work. In reality you're keeping an eye and a mind on Professor Clarkson, and don't let him talk the Prime Minister into ditching Solariax.

AMITY
Okay, but your comms actually won't work, you know.

FINESSE
I have a plan for that.

SHIFT
Really?

FINESSE
Have you met my sister?

SHIFT
Brilliant! Fine. Chronal, you're going to need to push yourself – get to FossCarbon with Lyric and Wraith and find out whatever they did to the Heulobattery. You need to work out how to reverse it or at least disarm it in some way. You also need to find evidence.

CHRONAL
What about you?

FINESSE
We're going to Solariax. And we're going with my sister.

CHRONAL
Wow, I'm glad I'm not Professor Pearce-Morgan.

Juncture, Straight On

(Ok, so its been 6 months since I started this. It's much shorter than it was supposed to be. The point was that you'd get a choice of posts to read. But I never wrote more than one, so it didn't work so well. Here's post no. 2!

NB: her convenient "friends house" only occurs in this post because of her choice of "straight on." It doesn't exist in the "right" or "left" universes.)

Juncture: Straight on

Checking one last time for any traffic, she crosses straight across the cross-roads and up the slight incline. The hedged verges drop away here to reveal stunning views of the open countryside; a majestic mountain curving up to her right, sliding down into a valley carpeted in woodland. Every now and then a flurry of birds erupt from the surrounding scene, with a burst of their trilling songs.

She is lost in her idling reflections when she hears one of the most welcome sounds she’s ever heard. From behind there is a car approaching and she quickly turns and holds out her arm, thumb aloft, hoping against hope that she doesn’t look like too much of a weirdo today.

She soon surmises that she mustn’t look too bad because the car indicates and pulls over. She doesn’t know much about cars, but she knew enough to feel the vibes of expense radiating from it. If she was ever going to tell anyone about this experience in the future, she’d call it the “pretty bluey-silver sportsy-type car,” to the despair of all metal-head’s in the area.

The driver’s door swooshed open and a Gorgeous Man stepped out. She blinked.

“Hi there,” he said, unoriginally.

“Urgh,” she replied, realising as she said it that that wasn’t a word. “Umineem,” she continued quickly, feeling more and more like a weirdo. Damn.

“Umm…” the Gorgeous Man said, looking a bit non-plussed. This was an accustomed expression for him.

“My car’s stopped,” she managed to blurt out suddenly, probably looking even more demented. “I don’t have a phone and errr… I kind of don’t really know what to do.” She stopped, determined not to add further embarrassment to that pitiful effort.

“Hey, no problem!” the Gorgeous Man said in that laid back, supposedly, charming way of all men who fancy themselves as Gorgeous. “Do you have the number of your insurance breakdown people?”

Shit. Crap. Bastards.

“Umm… no well, yes, but well, I keep it on my phone and I forgot my phone.”

Pathetic.

“Oh. Well can I give you a lift somewhere? I didn’t really have a destination in mind. I was just taking the car out, you know, cruising.”

She wonders briefly whether he is some kind of creepy murderer-rapist, or else just someone who lacks environmentalist principles. She decides the latter are more common.

“Ah- yes please!” she replies, trying to sound grateful, but not like some kind of freaky keeno. “I was on my way to a friend’s house- she lives about ten minutes drive from here. Would that be at all possible?” She allows herself to sound just a little bit desperate. She even toys with the idea of puppy-dog eyes.

“Sure!” he replies with an expansive arm gesture. “Climb on in.”

She steps into the car, sinking deeply into the squishy leather seating. She smiled at the decadence of her transportation as she snaps the seat belt into place. The Gorgeous Man slides into the driver’s seat and flicked on his indicator light, making a soft little puck-puck noise, almost like an embarrassed cough.

“You know, it’s the strangest thing, and I know this is going to sound like a line, but I can’t help but feel I know you from somewhere.” The Gorgeous Man glanced across at her, a slightly puzzled expression on his face.

She takes a closer look at him and with a sinking feeling, realises that yes, they have met before. He used to be in the same school, although two years older, and she had been part of a (now hideously embarrassing) fan club, devoted to his supreme gorgeousness and popularity. It was a supposedly a secret fan club. But this was a school after all.

To pretend you don’t know him: Stop! And continue reading the post entitled Juncture: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

To acknowledge the acquaintance, despite the embarrassment; continue reading below.

“Yes, actually, I don’t suppose you went to Hartfield School?” she asked, as nonchalantly as possible. She looked out the window as she said it, admiring the now very interesting scenery. In fact, she could just make out what seemed to be a castle, nestled in the bottom of the valley.

“Yes! I did!” the Man replied, slight excitement entering his tone. “Did you go there too?”

“Yes,” she replied neutrally, “I don’t think we were in the same year though.”

“School days were good fun, weren’t they? Do you remember Mr Pughes?”

“Yes! And how he always said everything as if it was from 1950. ‘Turn down the sound on your jukeboxes, children!’ He was a right laugh,” she replied, with a laugh.

“Yes! And do you remember that special assembly he lead?”

“Who doesn’t! I don’t think I’ve ever cringed so much.”

“Less said about that, the better,” he replied solemnly.

“At the next cross roads, it’s straight on,” she interrupted, pointing at the junction coming up in front of them.

“Ok,” he replied, still smiling. Looking both ways, he carefully crossed over the road.

“My friend’s house is coming up on the left soon,” she said, leaning forward and squinting at the hedge line.

“Is that it?” he asked, tilting his head at a house sitting set into the hillside.

“Yes!” she replied happily. “Thank you so much for driving me! I was really stuck back there.”

“It was my pleasure. Look, I don’t want to sound corny, but could I have you’re number?” He said the last part slightly rushed.

She smiled back at him. “Sure. But, as we know, my ability to keep my phone on me is not the best.”

He laughed in reply. “I suppose I’ll just have to be patient then!”

He handed her his phone and she keyed her number in.

“See you around then,” she said, stepping out of his car. “And thanks again for the lift.”

“No problem! Hopefully see you soon!”

With that he drove off into the sunset. Once he was out of sight, she jumped up and down on the spot laughing.

“No one from school will believe this!” she thought to herself, before running up to her friends door and ringing the bell.

“You alright?” her friend asked, opening the door.

“Fine!” she exclaimed, jubilantly, “but you are not going to believe what just happened!”

THE END

Shift. Chapter 11

(Once again, cut short because of internet issues- I suppose its really Chapter 10, part two.)

One of the more interesting political structures in our modern world is that of the Kingdom of Callania. Whilst they maintain the overall hierarchical structure of many other Western nations, their royalty is selected by election, rather than by birth. The children of incumbent Kings or Queens are often put forward for election, but they are not always the favourite choice. The longest the throne has stayed with one direct family is three generations, culminating in the current leaders, King Tanon and Queen Elerina. Should one of their children win the next election, their family would be the most successful in history.

Excerpt from “Politics of Our time”

***

There was the faintest movement, a slight sway of the curtains and a flicker of the firelight. Penry looked up from his desk, his expression frozen, hesitant.

“Here already?” he queried into the darkness.

“I am,” she replied materialising suddenly just on the edge of his peripheral vision. He turned to face her, a smile creeping across his features.

“I call. You come. I could get used to this,” he said, in a slightly mocking tone. The figure blurred out of sight. Penry frantically glanced all round himself, his eyes finally alighting on her face, two inches from his left shoulder.

“Don’t,” was all she said, venom dripping from her tone.

“What a clever little pixie you are!” he exclaimed, trying to hide his consternation.

“Nice. But I am not a pixie.” She moved away from him, crossing to stand near the firelight.

“Can’t blame me for trying,” he replied with more composure. “So you’re not a pixie, an elf, a fairy or a hob. I’m getting quite a list here.” He pulled a sheet of paper towards himself and made a note.

“No. Those creatures are fictional.” She pushed the hood from her face, revealing a swathe of thick red hair, twisted up and tied in loops about her head. Her features had a slightly blurred appearance, although her eyes were clear and bright, brilliant white disks.

“No? Even hobs?” He replied, in mock seriousness.

“Especially hobs. So what do you want?” she asked, pacing in front of the fire, her image blurring and contorting slightly in unison with the waves of heat.

“Not so fast. Small talk first,” he replied evenly, folding his hands across his lap. “So, where have you been recently?”

“Working,” she replied tersely. “As I’m sure you know already. If you insist on asking me anything, ask me something you don’t know.”

“Working? I hope they paid you well,” he replied somewhat loftily.

“Of course.” She stopped her pacing, examining the objects lining the fireplace.

“I sometimes wonder, what does an evil, soulless creature like yourself actually spend money on?” Penry leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk playing about his lips.

“I often wonder the same of you,” she replied bluntly, picking up a strange little statue adorning the edge of the fireplace.

“Kings have numerous expenses,” Penry replied smoothly, totally unfazed by her reply. “I find that my Kingdom drinks gold like water. But you. You I just do not understand.”

“And that is why you will never have my powers,” she replied, glancing up from her examination of the ornament. “Why do you have this?” she continued, brandishing the ugly little thing, “Some sort of imp is it?”

“I was given that by an emissary from Wahalanang. It has some sort of importance there.” Penry shrugged. “Their ways are strange. I take it then, that I can cross “imp“ off my list as well then?”

“Wahalanang?” she replied, ignoring his latter comment, but with a slight inflection of curiosity entering her tone. “There are interesting stories about that part of the world.” She put the idol back in its place and turned to face him. “So? What did you want?”

“On to business already? How boringly efficient of you,” Penry replied with mock-hurt.

“I suppose you have more pointless and personal questions to put to me,” she answered in a dull and slightly scathing tone.

“Well, now that you mention it…” he began and then broke off with a laugh. “Ok, ok. I promise to waste no more of your precious time. To business then.” He held out an envelope, sealed in black wax. She reached across to take it and as she did so, he brushed his fingers lightly across hers. She hissed and snatched her hand back.

“Never touch me,” she spat at him, her eyes flaming white with anger. “You know that.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he laughed back, putting his hand over his heart.

“Idiot,” she hissed, breaking the seal on the letter.

Penry leant forward, slamming one hand on the table in front of him. “Do not try my generosity,” he growled threateningly.

There was a sudden, complete stillness. She fixed her eyes on him, her features otherwise blurred in darkness.

“Then do not try mine,” she replied, her voice seeming to come from far away, as if down a long, echoing tunnel.

Penry shrugged and leant back in his chair. “So can you manage the job?” he asked, somewhat sulkily.

“Of course,” she replied, folding the letter up. “But next time you want to speak to me, do not send your servant. You know how to contact me.”

Penry shifted slightly uncomfortably in his seat. “Why? Embarrassed that my simple General can track the famous Assassin?”

There was a silence.

“I will not tolerate his presence again. I spared him in recognition of our long-standing contract. My patience is wearing very thin.”

“You are not as strong as you think,” Penry replied, turning away from her momentarily. When he looked back, she was gone.

***

SILVETERA CLAIMS CALLANIA

In a shock move, the Kingdom of Silvetera, lately swollen by the gain of the Kingdom of Arrozale, has moved against Callania, claiming this Kingdom as its own. What should our country do about such tyranny? That is the question being hotly debated in today’s Council Chamber…

Excerpt from “AETYORTHIRI TIMES”

***

With a flutter of wings, the two sisters settled on the ground, hidden deep amongst a cluster of close-growing trees. Srynia shifted back to human form first, collapsing to the floor. Riarna shifted shortly after, reaching down to assist her sister.

“Are you alright?” she asked anxiously.

“It’s the shift,” Srynia replied weakly, “It’s just taken it out of me a bit.”

Riarna shook her head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve let us stop sooner. I just wanted to put enough distance between us and those creatures.”

“I know, it’s not your fault,” Srynia immediately began to comfort her. “I wanted to keep going.”

“What’s wrong with your neck?” Riarna asked suddenly, looking at the deep gauges the Werserk had left.

“Nothing. Just that one that got me earlier,” Srynia looked sad, suddenly remembering what she had been trying to forget.

“Why didn’t you tell me? You need to heal that before we go any further!” Riarna stood over her sister, her posture slightly threatening.

“I don’t think I have the strength,” Srynia replied weakly.

“Let me,” Riarna said in a gentler tone. Crouching down again, she put her hands over the wounds and closed her eyes. Slowly, the flesh began to knit and colour, smoothing back to the texture of pure skin.

“Thank you,” Srynia said, flexing the muscles on her back and rubbing her shoulder. She touched the necklace that was still hanging around her neck.

“Look, I’ve got blood on it.” She began to rub at the flakes of dried blood encrusting the gold.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll clean it up next time we stop for water.”

“It was our mothers,” Srynia continued dully, looking into her sister’s eyes. “What are we going to do without them?”

“We will go on,” Riarna replied firmly, swallowing the lump beginning to form in her throat. “We don’t have time to grieve now. We have to keep going. To do whatever we can to push back these scum, these invaders.” She clenched her fists, a furious expression crossing her face.

“We’d do better to leave. To take refuge in another country,” Srynia replied fatalistically.

“No. We must do what we can. You know that’s the right thing to do.”

Srynia bowed her head in silent acknowledgement of that fact.

“Fine. But where should we start?”

“The palace. That would be a primary target of the Silveterans, but we’re likely to be able to make contact with someone who can set us on the right course.”

“You hope,” Srynia replied tartly.

“I know,” Riarna asserted firmly. “I don’t know how I know. I can just feel it deep down inside me.”

“If you say so,” Srynia sighed. “How are we going to set about getting there?”

Riarna looked off into the distance, a slight frown creasing her features. “Horse-form. I’ll change occasionally to check our bearings, take bird-form to scout around. But we’ll mainly use horse-form.”

“That’ll be easy for me, but won’t it make us quite loud and slow?” Srynia asked, doubt tingeing her tone.

“No. It’ll be fine. You’ll need to save your strength in case we encounter any resistance.”

Riarna shifted into horse-form, bringing any further discussion to a close. Srynia shook her head and then joined her sister in horse-form. The two turned and setting out at the trot, soon disappeared amongst the overgrown forest.

***

C. H(aroni): By the time we decide to help them, it will be too late!
Disturbance. Quiet called.
C. K(aissen): But the question at stake is whether we should help them or not. A decision we should not make in haste!
C. H. And if we don’t help them, what next? You think that Kingdom’s greed will stop at our borders?
Disturbance. Quiet called.
C. K.: More reason to keep our forces here, where they can protect our land!
General uproar.

Minutes of the Meeting of the National Council, Aetyorthiri.

***

“They can’t keep us here! What right have they?” Prince Rhydyn repeated again to general mutters from his family.

“You can keep saying that, but it isn’t going to change anything,” King Tanon replied wryly, shaking his head at his son’s impatience.

“We haven’t done anything to them,” Rhydyn continued, reluctant to give up on his theme. “We’ve always been a very peaceful country.”

“But they haven’t,” Queen Elerina interjected with a sigh. “We share a world with warmongering nations. We were just not sufficiently prepared for this. To be honest I never expected Aleyn to allow it to go this far.”

“Aleyn is firmly under Penry’s thum,” Tanon replied with a snort of derision. “She is half the woman she used to be.”

“It is a shame.” Elerina shook her head and sighed again.

“A shame?” Rhydyn repeated, slightly incredulously. “I can’t believe how calmly you’re taking this!”

“Well, how else can we take it? It does no good to get worked up,” his mother replied gently. “We’re lucky to only be under house-arrest.”

“Long may it last,” Tanon added grimly. “I don’t trust Penry. I don’t think he’ll keep us alive unless he has some need of us.”

“If I could just get out of here,” Rhydyn said with a slightly exasperated sigh. “You know I can’t stand being stuck indoors.”

“I know, I know,” Elerina replied.

Rhydyn crossed to the window and stared out glumly over the fields surrounding the palace. He took a sudden step forward, leaning against the window frame, staring out into the distance.

“Who’s that?” he asked to the room in general. “Do they want to get themselves killed?”

“What is it?” Tanon asked curiously, getting to his feet and crossing to the window.

“Two horse-shifters. In the forest. They mustn’t realise that the Werserks are patrolling this area. But why come here in the first place?”

“I can’t see them, where are they?” Tanon asked, squinting at the trees.

“There. In amongst the trees. Two bays.”

“I can’t see them.”

“They’re there. Look!” Rhydyn pointed, his tone increasingly frustrated.

“They’re very well disguised. I can’t see them.”

Elerina alighted from her chair and swept across to the window.

“Can you see them mother?” Rhydyn asked, hope tingeing his voice.

“I think so,” Elerina replied cautiously. “They are standing very still.”

“But what are they doing here? Everyone else has fled,” Rhydyn continued, allowing himself to become just slightly excited.

“I don’t know,” Tanon replied gloomily, “But they’re going to get themselves killed.”

“I’m going to keep my eye on them,” Rhydyn stated firmly. “At least it’ll give me something to do whilst I’m stuck here.”

Shift, Chapter 10

(This chapter is shorter than I was planning because I want to post this before I lose the internet. It's also a bit rusty because it's taking me a while to get back into writing this. Excuses over.)
***

TOP SECRET

Message for His Majesty, King Penry of Silvetera.

We have successfully crossed the border and troops are in position to move on Gaveny. There is some localised resistance, but nothing in significant strength to halt our progress.

Admiral Tern

Kylan, Ruth. The Red Run: secret messages unlocked.

***

The man closed up his shop and started the long walk home. His back was bowed against the world, his mind bent around his many troubles. It was a very still night, in a run-down district of the city. However, even then, he felt that there was something wrong. There was a terrible feeling of absence and something else, some indescribable and overwhelming sense of threat. With a terrible chill, he realised what this must mean. He began to run, his heart hammering in his chest, his mind racing faster than his legs.

With a sickening crack, he fell hard against the ground and rolled onto his back. His breath gasping in his throat, he searched frantically around himself, as the silence gradually grew and swelled. With one final sigh, he fell still, his eyes rolling up in their sockets. A single red tear welled up and fell, streaking a crimson line against his cheek. There was a moments silence and then a figure stepped forwards from the darkness, hovering over the man’s slumped form.

“I thought I might find you here,“ A man’s voice rumbled deeply from a nearby archway. “Your presence is required.”

The figure turned, fixing him with pure-white, disc-like eyes. It took a long-drawn, hissing breath, flexing the individual fingers on each hand.

“It will be worth your while,” he added, a slightly coaxing tone entering his voice. He took a half step back and swept his arm backwards in an inviting gesture.

“Very well,” it replied, the voice soft and feminine, but clear. She stepped away from the slumped form on the floor and slid into the protection of the shadows.

“What did this one do?” Klint asked, seized by a rare moment of curiosity.

“He made some very wealthy enemies,” she replied, the sound of her voice receding rapidly.

Klint half-smiled and allowed a brief growl of what would approximate laughter. He quickly shifted into the darkness and moved away into the still and silent night.

***

TOP SECRET

URGENT

Message for their Majesties, King Lahaldi and Queen Reya.

Greetings, honourable allies and leaders of our neighbouring nation, the highly esteemed Aetyorthiri.

Urgent news compels us to speak briefly. We are under attack by King Penry and Queen Aleyn of Silvetera, lately the acquisitors of the Kingdom of Arrozale. We have been friends and allies for many centuries and we now beg you to assist us in this war.

Send us your reply as soon as you can, we do not know how long we can hold them back by ourselves.

King Tanon and Queen Elerina, Elect of Callania.

***

“Do you hear that?” Srynia panted to her sister, pacing at the long loping stride of the wolf.

“Werserks,” Riarna growled back, her hackles slightly raising.

In unison, the sisters picked up the pace, lengthening out their strides, tracking the sounds ahead of them.

“Look there! Straight ahead!” Srynia barked.

In front of them, a pack of Werserks was circling around a figure lying on the floor. As the sisters closed in on them, the sound of the snarls and howls grew to near-deafening proportions. They were nearly on top of them when the first of the pack noticed, but too late to raise the alarm.

“Get dad, I’ll hold them,” Riarna half-snarled, half-roared as she launched into a pounce, shifting from wolf to lioness as she flew. Srynia branched off from her sister, making the figure on the floor her target.

“Dad! Can you hear me?” She asked, crouching low to his face. His eyes fluttered open, but his breath was low and raspy.

“Can you shift to something I can carry? Dad? Can you understand?” she continued, her voice more urgent.

Willan shook his head very slightly.

“No,” he replied, his voice very faint and whispery. “Too weak. Go, daughter. Go now while you still can.”

With a sudden punch, a Werserk landed on Srynia’s back, snarling and biting at her neck. She shook furiously to dislodge him, managing to make him slide onto the ground, teeth still wrapped around her throat. Struggling and shaking, she snapped and bit at whatever part of him that she could reach. With a sudden sense of release, she felt the Werserk lift from her back. She turned to see her father, still in human form, lifting the wolf, his hands buried in its thick, scruffy neck. Srynia scrambled to her feet, blood running in rivulets from the wounds in her neck.

With a sickening snap, the Werserk twisted and closed its teeth around Willan’s bare throat. The man collapsed backwards, his body crumpling as he fell.

“No!” Srynia howled, launching at the Werserk. He turned, a sneering contempt stretching across his wolf-features. Leaping agilely to the side, he put in a parting snap before bounding off to rejoin the fight, still raging furiously between Riarna and the rest of the pack.

Srynia rushed to her father’s side, shifting to human form, putting her hand over the strange contortion in his neck. She carefully shut his blankly staring eyes, tears falling silently and steadily from her face to his. Wiping her face hastily, she turned away, shifting back to wolf form.

“Riarna!” she called, seeing her sister was still holding off the pack. Twisting and biting, shifting and sliding between them, keeping up that incredible strength of energy she always seemed to possess. Riarna met her sister’s eyes across the distance, making a slight nod of acknowledgement that she could hear.

“He’s dead!” she wailed, turning to glance once again on Willan’s body. Riarna hesitated momentarily, before shifting out of the path of snapping teeth, letting them close on the air with a resounding clack. With a leap and a roll she cleared the group of Werserks, launching into the air and shifting into a hawk. Flying straight up, out of their reach, she kee-eed, calling her sister to join her. Focusing all her strength, Srynia mustered up one of the few bird-from shifts she could do, taking to the air as a sparrow.

“Hold the shift!” Riarna kee-eed to her sister, knowing very well how much difficulty she had with this one.

“Will do!” Srynia sang back, “Better not to talk. Keep the focus.”

“We’ll head north, far out of their range. Then we can change form to something easier. I’ll stay as a hawk, protect you and keep an eye on where we’re going.”

Srynia replied with a single chirrup of acknowledgement.

The two flew high and far away from the Werserks beneath them, still prowling and circling. They set a course straight north, the misty shapes of the distant mountain range before them.