Machinations: Act V
The Shadow Palace
When Riselmian returned, silver armor spattered with black shadow blood from the fights since her last healing potion, there was nobody on the throne. A cheerful blaze burned in the fireplace, and a rail-thin canine theri crouched in front of it, tail low, staring intently into the flames.
Riselmian looked around. The room was otherwise empty. The throne, while still carved of crude marble, now sported a sleek black cushion and some simple carvings atop the high back. On the far wall, three of the black tapestries had been filled in with bold linework, and now showed a unicorn head, a dragon head, and what looked like an childish cartoon dog with the word "woof" in careful lowercase letters underneath. Outside the window, the dark sphere had not moved in the sky.
"Shadow king," she said, kneeling in front of the canine, "I have returned. There is much to report."
"Have you noticed," the coyote said, "that the fire here warms but doesn't actually burn?"
"Uh," Riselmian said, "no, I hadn't. Would you like to hear what happened, or is this another lesson?"
The coyote's tail began to wag. "Lessons? I like lessons. They taste like oranges. But oranges are tasty, and lessons are bitter."
Riselmian shifted sideways to look in the theri's eyes. "Shadow king? Are you alright?"
"Never better!" the theri sang, leaping up and pirouetting away. "I sang to the stars, and they came to visit me. Now I have new friends."
Riselmian narrowed her eyes in thought, then stood. "Alright. So far the shadow king has shown himself to me as a character from two of my favorite TV shows. I don't recognize your form even a little. So you must be another of his recruits."
The coyote stopped, and loped over to put an arm around Riselmian's shoulders. His fur was thick and sleek, and smelled of shampoo. "Don't be silly," he said. "The shadow king does not need an army. The shadow king has Dragon Knight Emile, his favorite double agent, whose brilliance will ensure the success of his cherished plans." The coyote smiled. "So how did your mission go?"
"Uh," Riselmian said.
"The shadow king also has been decorating a bit," the coyote said, changing subjects effortlessly, sweeping an arm around the room. "Do you like the tapestries? Ron didn't want one. But Gavin got a little too excited at the idea --" the coyote leaned in confidentially -- "and snuck into the throne room to make one for himself after the shadow king left."
"Ah, I get it," Riselmian said. "I'm Riselmian. Nice to meet you, Gavin."
The coyote blinked and looked over his shoulder. "No, no. Gavin went away. It's only me now."
"Then who are you?" Riselmian asked, insistently pulling away the coyote's arm and stepping back.
"Why, I'm the lord high master of all the Shadowlands," the coyote said, drawing his naked body up proudly and thumping his furred chest. "Grand schemer of schemes, planner of plans, and once and future conqueror of Earth."
Riselmian stared, then sighed and planted her head in her hand.
The coyote looked down. "Wait. No, I'm not. I'm not a shadow. Hey, Riselmian, who am I?"
"You're nuts, is what you are!" Riselmian snapped back. "Bonkers! Crackers! Insane! Six screws short of being a screw loose! Now get out of the shadow king's palace before I bite your head off."
The coyote pointed at Riselmian. "Crackers! I like that. Crackers are tasty."
Riselmian closed her eyes and summoned up inner energy, releasing herself into her true form, feeling herself fall forward onto all fours as wings burst forth and her neck elongated. Her reptilian eyes flicked back open again -- and the canine theri wasn't in front of her.
She growled, a menacing rumble deep in her throat, and swung her head around. The room was empty.
Then an upside-down coyote head popped into view at the top of her vision, grinning. "Hey!" it said lightly. "You must be Dragon Knight Emile. I'm crackers. Have you met Riselmian?"
Riselmian screeched in rage and heaved her head upward, slamming it into the ceiling. She heard a satisfying crunch as her senses scrambled with the impact. She staggered backward, swung her head to dislodge the coyote and clear her vision, and noticed two new figures were now watching her, having just entered through the portal at the far end of the hall. One was what appeared to be a being of living shadow -- a tall silhouette whose shape was humanoid, but unnaturally tall, with an equine muzzle and a horn spiraling up from its head. The other was a huge brick of a human in a dust-beaten overcoat, whose exhausted bearing and tangle of beard marked him as a refugee from The Wastes.
The coyote was sprawled on the floor next to them, apparently unhurt, clinging to one leg of the unicorn-shaped silhouette as the human stared up at Riselmian with undisguised interest.
"I don't think the new girl likes me, Ron," the coyote said, looking back at Riselmian.
The shadow unicorn looked down at the theri, then up at the smashed-in ceiling. "Ah, Riselmian," it said in a light, androgynous voice, "I see you've met Gavin."
"Both of them left," the coyote said. "Gavin made me a tapestry though. Hey ... you're not Ron."
The human sighed and turned to the unicorn. "Much as I appreciated the tour, your majesty, I told you we shouldn't have left him. He's going to do nothing but get into trouble if we let him wander around on his own."
"Ron!" the coyote shouted, disengaging from the unicorn's leg and glomming onto the man's. "The nice lady helped me remember who I am. I'm crackers! Isn't that great?"
Riselmian stormed across the throne room and brought her snarling face to within inches of the unicorn's dispassionate muzzle. "Shadow king," she said with restrained rage, "I know I said I would do anything you asked -- even die if it helps your cause -- but you would do well to remember that I have my limits. There will be unpleasant consequences if you ever ask me to be your goddamn babysitter."
The unicorn dipped its head. "My apologies, my dragon. I will structure my plans accordingly."
Riselmian snorted -- hot air curling around the three figures menacingly -- and backed away, shifting to her human form and storming over to the window.
"... Does this mean," the coyote asked in a small voice, "I get to run the treasury?"
When Riselmian returned, silver armor spattered with black shadow blood from the fights since her last healing potion, there was nobody on the throne. A cheerful blaze burned in the fireplace, and a rail-thin canine theri crouched in front of it, tail low, staring intently into the flames.
Riselmian looked around. The room was otherwise empty. The throne, while still carved of crude marble, now sported a sleek black cushion and some simple carvings atop the high back. On the far wall, three of the black tapestries had been filled in with bold linework, and now showed a unicorn head, a dragon head, and what looked like an childish cartoon dog with the word "woof" in careful lowercase letters underneath. Outside the window, the dark sphere had not moved in the sky.
"Shadow king," she said, kneeling in front of the canine, "I have returned. There is much to report."
"Have you noticed," the coyote said, "that the fire here warms but doesn't actually burn?"
"Uh," Riselmian said, "no, I hadn't. Would you like to hear what happened, or is this another lesson?"
The coyote's tail began to wag. "Lessons? I like lessons. They taste like oranges. But oranges are tasty, and lessons are bitter."
Riselmian shifted sideways to look in the theri's eyes. "Shadow king? Are you alright?"
"Never better!" the theri sang, leaping up and pirouetting away. "I sang to the stars, and they came to visit me. Now I have new friends."
Riselmian narrowed her eyes in thought, then stood. "Alright. So far the shadow king has shown himself to me as a character from two of my favorite TV shows. I don't recognize your form even a little. So you must be another of his recruits."
The coyote stopped, and loped over to put an arm around Riselmian's shoulders. His fur was thick and sleek, and smelled of shampoo. "Don't be silly," he said. "The shadow king does not need an army. The shadow king has Dragon Knight Emile, his favorite double agent, whose brilliance will ensure the success of his cherished plans." The coyote smiled. "So how did your mission go?"
"Uh," Riselmian said.
"The shadow king also has been decorating a bit," the coyote said, changing subjects effortlessly, sweeping an arm around the room. "Do you like the tapestries? Ron didn't want one. But Gavin got a little too excited at the idea --" the coyote leaned in confidentially -- "and snuck into the throne room to make one for himself after the shadow king left."
"Ah, I get it," Riselmian said. "I'm Riselmian. Nice to meet you, Gavin."
The coyote blinked and looked over his shoulder. "No, no. Gavin went away. It's only me now."
"Then who are you?" Riselmian asked, insistently pulling away the coyote's arm and stepping back.
"Why, I'm the lord high master of all the Shadowlands," the coyote said, drawing his naked body up proudly and thumping his furred chest. "Grand schemer of schemes, planner of plans, and once and future conqueror of Earth."
Riselmian stared, then sighed and planted her head in her hand.
The coyote looked down. "Wait. No, I'm not. I'm not a shadow. Hey, Riselmian, who am I?"
"You're nuts, is what you are!" Riselmian snapped back. "Bonkers! Crackers! Insane! Six screws short of being a screw loose! Now get out of the shadow king's palace before I bite your head off."
The coyote pointed at Riselmian. "Crackers! I like that. Crackers are tasty."
Riselmian closed her eyes and summoned up inner energy, releasing herself into her true form, feeling herself fall forward onto all fours as wings burst forth and her neck elongated. Her reptilian eyes flicked back open again -- and the canine theri wasn't in front of her.
She growled, a menacing rumble deep in her throat, and swung her head around. The room was empty.
Then an upside-down coyote head popped into view at the top of her vision, grinning. "Hey!" it said lightly. "You must be Dragon Knight Emile. I'm crackers. Have you met Riselmian?"
Riselmian screeched in rage and heaved her head upward, slamming it into the ceiling. She heard a satisfying crunch as her senses scrambled with the impact. She staggered backward, swung her head to dislodge the coyote and clear her vision, and noticed two new figures were now watching her, having just entered through the portal at the far end of the hall. One was what appeared to be a being of living shadow -- a tall silhouette whose shape was humanoid, but unnaturally tall, with an equine muzzle and a horn spiraling up from its head. The other was a huge brick of a human in a dust-beaten overcoat, whose exhausted bearing and tangle of beard marked him as a refugee from The Wastes.
The coyote was sprawled on the floor next to them, apparently unhurt, clinging to one leg of the unicorn-shaped silhouette as the human stared up at Riselmian with undisguised interest.
"I don't think the new girl likes me, Ron," the coyote said, looking back at Riselmian.
The shadow unicorn looked down at the theri, then up at the smashed-in ceiling. "Ah, Riselmian," it said in a light, androgynous voice, "I see you've met Gavin."
"Both of them left," the coyote said. "Gavin made me a tapestry though. Hey ... you're not Ron."
The human sighed and turned to the unicorn. "Much as I appreciated the tour, your majesty, I told you we shouldn't have left him. He's going to do nothing but get into trouble if we let him wander around on his own."
"Ron!" the coyote shouted, disengaging from the unicorn's leg and glomming onto the man's. "The nice lady helped me remember who I am. I'm crackers! Isn't that great?"
Riselmian stormed across the throne room and brought her snarling face to within inches of the unicorn's dispassionate muzzle. "Shadow king," she said with restrained rage, "I know I said I would do anything you asked -- even die if it helps your cause -- but you would do well to remember that I have my limits. There will be unpleasant consequences if you ever ask me to be your goddamn babysitter."
The unicorn dipped its head. "My apologies, my dragon. I will structure my plans accordingly."
Riselmian snorted -- hot air curling around the three figures menacingly -- and backed away, shifting to her human form and storming over to the window.
"... Does this mean," the coyote asked in a small voice, "I get to run the treasury?"