Shadelings

prologue

Alluum is beautiful from the sky. In the years since the rebellion, the small villages that once dotted the countryside have been reclaimed by nature, and the dwarves have since rebuilt Xidwin and Altshof into giant, miles-high cities of chrome and glass. Xidwin shines on the horizon. The fields below us are empty, except for the overgrown asphalt highway that we are following. One day, all of Alluum will be mine. The primitive drow tribes living in the swamps stand no chance against the coming rebellion; the cities will fall under our wake. The Evercrest riders will cower at our presence; this time, it won't only be necromancers fighting against them. A grin spreads across my face.

Betsalel gains altitude as we approach Xidwin. Landvættir are known for their size, and Betsalel is no exception. The black dragon could easily smash a two-story home if he so wished. Or if I wish. He doesn't exactly have the freedom of other dragons-- that would mean he can make his own decisions. I cannot allow him such liberty; Alluum needs a new ruler by any means.

Betsalel is reflected in the buildings as he climbs over them. Hovercraft fly by us, hopping from one building to the other to carry passengers around the metropolis. Other dragons float lazily on the air currents around the city. Betsalel turns and circles around a building. Below, a large mass of people is gathered on one of the many courtyards suspended between buildings. The dragons and hovercraft flying overhead cast odd shadows over them.

“Get closer,” I order. He glides to the next building and begins circling around it, losing altitude until I tell him to stop. The crowd is gathered before a platform. A man in golden robes is speaking to them, a gray feathered dragon at his side. The dragon, an amphiptere, leaves no doubt that the man is a courier.

I reach inside myself, tapping into the power inside, and say, “Ikowa m nti.” The noise from the crowd is amplified a hundredfold. I wince. “Were di juu.” The noise becomes bearable. A thousand voices are trying to speak over the courier, but a mage at his side keeps his voice above the crowd's noise.

“...the crew of Morning Mist will be returned home safely-- you must have faith in the King!”

An unhappy patron throws a rock at the courier, catching him off-guard. Other members of the crowd begin throwing objects at the man as well. Cries of, “The King is a figurehead!” and, “The dragon riders have too much power!” echo through the chaos. The courier's dragon squawks and moves to protect its rider, covering him with a protective wing.

“Quit it!” The dragon tries to yell over the crowd. “Stop!” Something hits it in the face and it makes a pitiful noise. Moments later, the mage teleports himself and the others away from the courtyard. The crowd turns against itself.

I can use this to my advantage.

I imagine an elf I had seen before. With her image and voice in mind, I say, “Igbanwe.” My body transforms into hers. The black robe I was wearing falls away into a light purple dress and I feel my bones and skin stretch and break to form into her. I double over in agony, trying to remember the words to keep the pain at bay. The transformation ends just as the spell comes to me.

“Igbu mgbu,” I say in her voice. The sore ache throughout my body subsides. I sigh. The crowd is casting spells at each other, drawing guns and swords from their persons. I can't keep up this disguise for long; I already feel my strength ebbing from the extreme change.

I focus on the stage, on standing there. “Otu ebe gaa ebe ozo,” I say. With a quiet pop, the scenery changes from Betsalel's back to standing before the rowdy crowd.

“Juu, uche.” My words barely make an indent in the chaos that is ensuing, but the crowd immediately stops at my command and turns toward me. “Ikowa.”

“Ladies and gentlemen!” I say, my voice amplified by a spell. My voice shakes slightly-- not from nerves, but from how much energy is being put into the spells. “There is no need to fight with each other. We must band together against the tyrants of Evercrest! With them running our wonderful country behind our backs, there is no knowing what nightmarish things they may do, or maybe even have done.”

The crowd screams in agreement. I grit my teeth as one of my spells tries to keep their order, dragging more energy out of me.

“Please, please! The unrest here will bring crusaders and sorcerers, so you must listen before they arrive!” The crowd obeys. “A month from today, Evercrest will hold auditions for new students. I urge you all to go through these exams, to learn the school from the inside-out. On the twenty-second of Minyo, when the sun is at its height, a voice will echo from the sky. If you are true to overthrowing the tyrants at Evercrest, follow the dragons. They will show the way to the rebellion.

“This will be war. We gather while the leaves fall, but we will fight in the ice and snow; you must be prepared for this. You may die, but it is for the right cause. The Evercrest tyrants must be cast from the throne and properly controlled through a new government! Spread the word; do not cause more unrest, brothers and sisters! Make them think they have won.” My body shivers, and my skin starts to crawl. The crowd screams in agreement again; I can feel my disguise spell beginning to lose strength.

“I must take my leave, but good citizens of Xidwin, remember, when the day comes: Follow the dragons!”

“Azu,” I mutter. I'm back on Betsalel's saddle. “Njedebe.”

The spells come to an end. The edges of my vision begin to darken. Multi-colored spots dance across the world.

“Take us home, Betsalel,” I say before succumbing to the blackness.

Evercrest will fall.

song on right is "phantom limb" by alice in chains