Endalia

Alyssa Ashley

    I love vacation. Especially in the Giant Isles. There’s just no place else in the world that you can order a drink big enough to swim in and still legally buy it, and cheap at that. Only four platinums.

         Of course, you have to be a giant to order it, but still. It’s amazing!

         “Alyssa!” The Plains Giant walked up to me. “The King requires court with you.” It’s a sentence I’ve been hearing a lot lately. I suppose that’s to be expected when you are a threat to the throne.

         “What does His Royal Pincushion want now?” I complain to the 12 foot tall smoothie glass sitting next to me, full of frothy pink liquid. Of course, it doesn’t say anything. Smoothie glasses have no feelings.

         “His Royal Pentissin does NOT like his name messed up or slandered, Alyssa!” The Plains Giant threatens me.

         “Oh, but I don’t care, don’t you see? And don’t forget, I’m a threat to the throne. I could and would kill you in an instant if I felt like it. Apparently I’m a mad, wanted woman.” I look at my smoothie glass again. I ask it “What do you suppose the king wants?” I wait a moment for an answer. None comes. Imagine that.

         “Would you please stop talking to your smoothie and come along to the King? He demands to talk to you.” The Giant says again.

         “I’ve had enough of your blithering. I’m going to the throne room. The King of Akjamani is going to talk to the Rouge of Downsweep, Alyssa Ashley Marquee!” I yell over my shoulder as I run down the hall from my room. Of course, the Giant is going to catch me in a few minutes, but I may as well run anyway. He’s only nine feet tall, after all.

         In a few minutes, I’ve reached the throne room of the Royal King Pincushion. Looking behind me, I realize the Giant that had come to me was only a courier. Too bad. I could have killed him for annoying me as much as he did.

         I walk up to the throne and bow down mockingly in front of the king.

         “Your Highness, King Pincushion, you summoned me?” I say, obvious mockery in my voice.

         “Stop calling me that, and I want to ask you: How did you get such mastery of…well, everything?” The King of Akjamani and the Southern Giant Isles gets directly to the point.

         “Easy. I train, and I train harder. Whenever I train, I do my best to train harder. Not that hard.” I say.

         “Really? Surely you employ a certain amount of Writing to help.” He says. King Pincushion waves his hand. “Arrest her and search her. Check her wrists and her ankles, mainly. Do a more thorough search in the dungeons.”

         I look up from my bent knee. Surrounding me on the upper floor over-looks, there are at least a hundred Plains Giant Bows aimed at me. Those things have enough power to outrange an Imperial cannon.

         “Try me.” I say. True, I do employ a certain amount of Writing skill, but I use none for self-boosting in training. Mostly, I use the amount of Writing I possess to produce physical shields around myself. Most are specified to protect me from arrows.

         This turns true when all hundred Plains Giants fire the arrows at a hand signal from their king.

         I just backwards. Looking like an Imperial helps a lot. My parents thought something was wrong with me when I didn’t have the usual almond eyes and flat faces of other Tree-People.

         I avoid every arrow with ease, even plucking one out of the air and throwing it back like a spear. To me, it is a spear. These arrows are easily five feet long.

         Unfortunately, not even I can protect myself from Imperial cannonballs. I never thought a cannon would be fired at me.

         The pain it inflicts is astronomical.