Endalia

Alyssa Ashley III

    I run to the source of the screaming. The docks, the docks. The two words pound through my head as I run.

    The farther I go, the more people I meet. All are screaming. In a very short time, I’m shoving my way through a crowd. I think it’s time to move higher.

    Happy to be a Tree-Person, I scale a wall in no time flat. It’s not hard. I have claws instead of fingernails. Okay, I still have fingernails. They’re just really sharp and don’t grow much.

    I get to the top of the building. I look down on the shingles. I’m not sure how stable they are. I don’t weigh much, but still, I could fall through. This city isn’t one for stableness.

    I take a chance and run forward. Sure enough, I hear cracking beneath my feet. I guess I can’t stop running until I get to the docks.

    For the first time since I’ve gotten up here, I look to the docks. I see smoke. Too much smoke to be good. I look farther out on a hunch. It’s right

    The city is being invaded. Damn Imperials! Or is it a conquistador acting alone? The Imperials have never liked the Giant Islands. My home. I guess I’ll have to rouse the Tree-People. I am a Rogue. Rogues hold great power. Probably more than a king could ever hope for. Especially one as incompetent as Pincushion. I keep running.

    I’m at the docks in about five minutes of solid sprinting over unstable rooftops. There was one that I accidently collapsed. Barely made it away before it collapsed.

    I get to the warehouse rooftops near the docks before I stop. I know these roofs are stable. I built these warehouses. Or, I designed them at least. I’m not doing manual labor like building.

    The smoke is clearing, so I wait for a few minutes. When it finally does, I’m wishing I hadn’t waited. In front of me is absolute death to the city. The Imperials have invaded the Plains Giant capitol, Akjamini. This isn’t good, for this is my city as well as Pincushion’s. And I don’t like Pincushion.

    I wait for a moment, then see the Conquistador Commander. He’s shouting orders at his men. I hate the Imperials. They’re so damn sexist.

    I simply jump down the warehouse roof. It’s a story and a half-about 10 feet, so it’s not that big of a deal.

    I open the warehouse side door. It’s not big. You have to crawl through it. It’s made so you can get in if the dock is occupied by “unwanteds”, such as the Conquistador and his men.

    Inside the warehouse is nothing, just like it should be. There’s nothing here to keep looters away. In reality, I’ve disguised everything with the Transter letter. That makes things invisible and turns them into a gas. Fortunately, they come back how they should when you remove the Transter letter. I just walk straight through the space where there should be objects. What’s in here is nothing but a giant slab of adamantium. It cost nearly the entire city’s wealth to get that. Fortunately, the city paid for it and not me. I just stole the money.

    When I reach the line that signifies the edge of the adamantium slab, I turn on my heel to face the empty air. I put to finger in the air. I sweep them down then up, telling the Transter letter to dissappear. It works. There’s a giant wump as the slab of metal returns. Suddenly I’m facing nothing but a block of metal.

    Satisfied with my work, I turn around again and do the Transter letter again to make the stairs appear where they should be. It works. I go down them to the headquarters of the Rogue of Downsweep. A guard bows at me as I pass. He kills the stairs.

    I proceed down the hall and receive bows from every guard I pass. These “guards” are no more than hired thugs, but they work. The Downsweep headquarters are a complex system designed entirely to make it nearly impossible to find your way to the Rogue’s Center, the place where my throne sits.

    I’m there in a matter of minutes. I’ve traipsed this route enough times to do it in my sleep. The warehouse entrance isn’t the only entrance. It’s just one of four hundred. The Rogue is prized far more than the king in Akjamani. The king has no real power. Even the nobles come to me for any real results.  The king is a figure head. He doesn’t know it, though.

    I come to the stretch of blank wall that is one of two entrances to the Rogue’s Center. Only the Rogue can open this. I can send messages and summon images of people to my Center, but only I can get it. It involves my blood, so it’s the safest place on Endalia. Or rather, one of the ten safest.

There’s ten Rogues in the world. There are two on the Giant Isles. The other is another Tree-Person, so we get along well. I have more power than him, though, because I can walk among men and not be spotted.

I prick my finger with a needle and press it to the stone. The stone appears to remain the same, but to me and me only, it’s now as movable as liquid. I take a deep breath. I plunge into the stone. It’s like fur on every side of me. Odd, I know, but liquid rock feels like fur.

I make it into the Rogue’s Center. The other entrance is straight up. It leads to just outside the city walls. The messenger system is run by the Lettler letter. Very handy. I send a letter to my deputy, in Mauris. His name means “the Dot”. It’s very accurate, seeing how he accidentally turned himself into goo one time. Now he’s a mass of sentient goo. Let’s see if he has any ideas on what to do about Conquistador San Tojo.