Shifter Overdrive

by Scarlett Grove

  "Drunk? No. You went through a portal, traveled through space, and are now on Endor. It's simple really, although I'm the only wizard on Endor who can do the necessary magic to open one." The little man shudders silently in what looks like a full-body laugh without sound. Okay. I've lost my mind. Someone show me to the nearest pharmacist.

  "If I'm not drunk and I'm not dreaming, then I must be going crazy. What are you really, some street person? Have I eaten out of a garbage can yet?"

  "Why would you do that?" the gnome says, in shock. He puts his hand to his chest like I just said something deeply troubling. I groan and roll my eyes, turning over on the bed.

  "Look, gnome man, I want to go home. How do I make that happen?" I say, momentarily giving in to the idea that this might be real.

  "You can call me Gizmel," the gnome says.

  "Hi," I say weakly.

  "I'm afraid you won't be able to go home.”

  I turn over and glare at him, rage bubbling up from my chest. He leans away from me as if I've scared him. "No need for that, lady. I will leave you now and let the princes explain." Gizmel hurries up from the bed and scuttles toward the door.

  "Wait a minute!" I shout, but the door is already closing behind him. I jump from the bed and sprint to the door, but it remains still. How do you open this thing? I look around for a knob or a button of some kind, but I can't find anything. Clancy is twirling around and whining like nobody's business. I look down at him and pet him.

  "Sorry, boy. This is freaking weird. I'm glad you are here."

  He licks my hand and follows me as I walk to the bed. My head is still spinning, and I'm dizzy. I get into the huge bed that is covered in gold brocade down blankets and get underneath. If I can't get out of here, I might as well get some rest. I've been sleeping on the lumpy mattress in my RV for way too long, and this bed is the most comfortable thing I've laid on in a long time.

  Clancy jumps up on the bed with me and lies beside me as I doze off.

  I wake to the sound of the thick wooden door sliding open. I sit up with a start and see a woman in a long A-line dress walk into the room. It must be morning already.

  The woman looks like she just walked out of Robin Hood or something and sets a silver tray down beside the bed. I eye the open door and then look down at the food. My stomach rumbles. I haven't had much but Power Bars all day yesterday. The food looks like an assortment of fruit, although I don't recognize any of it.

  Beside the tray of fruit is what appears to be a chunk of whole grain French bread. Looking from the door to the food, I let out a long breath and sit up. I want to lunge for the door, but I want to eat more. With how my head feels, I doubt I'll make it to the door before collapsing anyway.

  "Hi," I say to the woman, tentatively. She glances up at me, a half smile on her face. I notice that in some ways she looks like the two princes I met earlier, but she isn’t a giant like they are. She has pointed ears, but her eyes don’t glow. She’s also statuesque and slender, unlike me. She has long white hair running down her back and violet-colored eyes.

  "Hello, lady, I am glad to see you well," the woman says, her eyes downcast, her posture subordinate. "I hope the food is to your liking. Is there anything else I might get you?"

  "Water?"

  The woman looks aghast and covers her mouth with her hand as if she's done something terribly wrong. "Of course, I beg your pardon, my lady. I'll be right back with it."

  "Thanks," I say, not understanding why she's acting like I'm the evil queen in Alice in Wonderland. Why is she calling me "my lady" like I'm some kind of royalty? I watch her hurry out of the room and the door slides closed behind her. She might be a servant but at least she isn't a prisoner, which I apparently am.

  I pick up the fruit and take a bite. Sweetness bursts over my tongue; it looks like a melon and tastes like a strawberry. Yum.

  I gobble down the rest of the fruit and start on the bread when the woman comes back into the room. I give her a friendly smile so she won't think I'm going to chop off her head, but it doesn't help. Jeez, how does Trav treat his servants around here? The woman sets the water beside my bed and curtsies, eyes still downcast.

  "Is there anything else I can do for you, my lady?"

  "Call me Dani," I tell her. "What's your name?"

  "My name is Uria, my lady."

  "I'm not royalty. I'm lost. And have a bitch of a headache. What am I doing here?"

  "The lady is to wed one of the princes," she says, confused. I can tell she thinks I'm either crazy or dumb. "I will call Wizard Gizmel to your chambers to cure your headache, my lady, if you please."

  "Sure. That'd be great."

  The mouse of a servant nearly sprints out of the room and away from the crazy human, and I watch the door open and close for her again. How does that dang thing work, and why doesn't it work for me? I climb out of bed and walk to the door. I stand in front of it just like she had. Nothing. Putting my hands on my hips and heave a sigh. I want out of here, and I want some answers. More than that, I just want to go home. I turn around and see Clancy licking the crumbs off my plate. I glare at him. "Down," I command and he actually listens for once.

  The door whooshes open behind me, and I turn to see Gizmel standing in front of me. He comes up to my waist, but his pointed hat that makes up our difference in height.

  "Uria said you have a headache. Let me take care of that for you. Please lie down."

  I plod over to the bed and lie down, waiting for him to work his magic. At least if my head stops hurting, I can figure out what the hell is going on.

  As Gizmel passes his glowing stick over my head, my headache slowly starts to go away. After a few more passes, it's gone completely. I let out a long breath, sighing in relief. For the first time since I got here, I feel halfway normal. He puts the stick in his pocket and smiles.

  I sit up and inspect the room I'm in for the first time. It’s a circular chamber surrounded by raw stone walls. There are lattice-covered windows. The bed I'm in takes up a good portion of the large room, but there are dressers pushed against the walls that fit into the curve of the stone. Long burgundy velvet curtains hang from the high ceiling and half conceal a closet full of clothes.

  "Tell me, Gizmel, what am I doing here?"

  "You are to wed one of the princes, lady. It is imperative that you decide soon. Going through the choosing ritual might take too much time."

  "Choosing Ritual?"

  "When a lady is courted by rival princes. It can take anywhere from a week to a year. We might not have that much time."

  "Nothing you are saying makes any sense," I say, feeling like my headache is going to come back.

  "Leave us, Gizmel," Trav says from the doorway. Conyac is right beside him. They look like two gigantic linebackers who want to eat me whole. A bead of sweat trickles down my temple. The gnome hurries out of the room. Trav's upper lip curls back, showing his sharp canine teeth. Clancy barks at them hysterically, and I push myself backward in the bed a little farther.

  "The wizard speaks true," Conyac says. "If you can choose now, it will save precious time. The Org are gathering strength as we speak. We must decide a king and gather our power if we are to defeat them."

  "Look, guys," I say in a soothing voice. "I think you must have me mistaken for someone else. I'm just a failed photojournalist turned nature photographer. I live in an RV. I'm no one's lady, and I'm not going to be able to do whatever it is you seem to want me to do."

  "You are Dani Storm. There is no other. We traveled through the portal to find you. Now, choose," Trav barks. His tone startles me and I jump.

  "Stop scaring the girl," Conyac says. I calm down a little at his voice of reason.

  "You both seem like nice guys, but I'm afraid I'm not ready to marry either of you. If that is what you are asking."

  Trav throws up his hands and grunts. "Fine, the Choosing ritual it is then. You will be in my house first, since it was my wizard that brought you here."

  "Y
ou can keep her for only three days. You’ve already had her for one. She comes to castle Blackwell in two days," Conyac says. "My lady, I will see you in two days’ time. Then I will take you to my lands." He places his hand to his heart and bows before turning to go.

  Trav stays standing there, enormous arms crossed, staring at me. With his long black cloak pushed back, I can see he's wearing leather and chain mail armor. A longsword scabbard hangs at his side. His blazing green eyes bore into me, and it makes my heart quake with excitement and dread.

  "You could have avoided all of this if you'd just chosen," he grunts.

  "Can I go home now, please?"

  "Lady, you are the last princess of this land. This is your home. Now do your duty and choose. I assure you I am the stronger prince. My fire is hotter and more deadly than Conyac's ice. I have killed thousands of Orgs in my life, and my family line has ruled these lands going back thousands of years. The upstart Blackwells have no place on the throne. This charade is to appease the massive population of Blackwell who insist their prince is the true king. You would do well to remember that I am in direct line of succession from the previous king."

  "Sure thing," I say. Every word out of his mouth makes less sense than the last, but I decide to play along. "So if you're the king, then why are you even doing this whole Choosing thing? Shouldn't everyone know who the rightful king is?"

  "You are correct, lady, they should. But they believe Blackwell is the rightful king by the succession of his line. Blackwells ruled two generations back and the people of his land believe the Warrens took the throne without honor."

  "I see," I lie.

  "You will decide the fate of our kingdom. Mating with the last princess of Endor will give the next king and his queen the power of the monarchs. We will defeat our enemies. Now choose."

  "Hold on, bro. I don't know either of you well enough to choose one or the other. What if I don't want either of you?"

  "Impossible, princess. You will choose. I will leave you here until you come to your senses."

  Trav huffs and turn out the door, leaving me alone again.

  Chapter 4

  Trav

  I storm out of the room, leaving the little woman behind me. How can that tiny creature be the lost princess? Gizmel assured us that this Dani Storm was the one. Lost since birth in another world. She looks small and weak, lacking inner fire and even the strong teeth she would need to defeat our enemies. There is something wrong with her. She is deformed, surely.

  Gripping my sword, I look out over the stone wall of Castle Warren. Beyond the high gates to the south, the land rolls with fertile fields. Below the blue mountain, I can see the fires burning. Orgs. Their newly hatched army lies in wait, biding their time before they strike at the heart of our two kingdoms. The bride must choose.

  In her choosing, she will save us all. The new king needs the power of hilock, the bonding. When the king and queen dragons bond, their power increases. It is the only way to win the war.

  In these times when there are no dragon-born females left on Endor, the Org have hatched, rising up from the bowels of the mountain to devour us all with their stinking mouths. The king cannot make hilock with a commoner. The dragon's blood is the only way to secure the future of our civilization, our race, and the safety of our planet.

  Below in the main yard of my keep, I see my knights fighting. I take the stairs down into the yard under the fading light of the sun. What I need is a sparring round to take my thoughts off the runty princess and the Choosing ritual.

  She is so small, round, and soft. I've never seen a woman like her before. Gizmel informed me that all women of her world look this way. But she is of the old blood, a princess of Endor, why does she appear so foreign?

  I walk into the sparking ring where my soldiers are practicing. They are not of the old blood; there are so few of the royal dragon lines left on the planet, but they are strong Endorians. I pray to the Gods that they are strong enough to defeat the Orgs.

  I pull my sword from its scabbard, and the men all turn their faces to me. I smile, showing my strong teeth. The enchanted blade hums in the air as the men draw their steel. It is an unfair fight, one-on-one, but this will be a one-on-fifteen match.

  My blade glows as I circle around, facing my best men. They grin at me, their swords glinting in the orange light of late day. I cock my head, smirking. Dragon blood runs through my veins, priming me for the fight. They come at me in groups of five. As blades, fists, and feet slice toward me, I spin, whirl and counter each move.

  The groups fall back, stunned, or slightly wounded. They must keep from being hit by my enchanted blade, or it will take off a hand or leg with even the slightest touch. I've trained my men well; they will not let me disfigure them. If they lose a limb, they lose a place in my honor guard.

  We continue our fight, steely eyes flash, as my men try to get the better of me, to find any opening, and take me down. But they cannot. Even in the form of a man, I am far too formidable for mere mortals. The giant Orgs, on the other hand, may prove a greater challenge for this body.

  As I beat my men down into a panting, groaning mess, I laugh at them. "Good fight, gentlemen, keep practicing," I say, grinning as I circle around to take in my men. None is injured beyond repair. Good. They honor me with their skill. They will fight by my side another day.

  "Prince Trav," I hear a voice call. It is Gizmel, my wizard. I cock my chin at him and slide my blade into its scabbard.

  "What is it, Gizmel?" I bark at the little man.

  "Your Highness, please come quickly."

  I growl and jump into my dragon form, flying up to the balcony of the second floor of the keep. Once there, I flash into the form of a man, and land before him. I love to see the look in his eyes when I do that. I sniff. He hasn't shit himself. I laugh at his wide-eyed shock.

  "Yes?" I ask. "What is so important that you interrupt my fighting practice?

  "Prince, please, come with me," Gizmel says in a breathless voice. I follow the little man up a winding staircase in the high tower overlooking the kingdom until we come to his laboratory. His cauldrons bubble. I sniff the air; it smells of shit in here. Disgusting.

  "What?" I bark.

  He hurries to scrying pool and moves his hands through the air. I see a scene of the Org army; their bodies erupt from a pit of mud. They crawl out to be armored and join the growing mass of repugnant forms that make up the brutish legion. I frown. I've known this was coming for some time.

  "They are amassing a great army. What do you have to tell me?"

  Gizmel flicks his hand over the pool and mutters something about his spell. "Here, look. We previously believed they only had one giant. But see those pits hold dozens of such giants."

  "Damn," I say. "I thought we had more time. I will go make hilock with the princess now. She must bond with a prince so we have a king and queen. We cannot wait any longer."

  I turn to go, but Gizmel yells behind me. "Wait. Your majesty. You cannot force the princess into hilock. It will not work if you do. She must freely bond with you, or the power will not flow through either of you. Please. Be gentle with this female. She is our only hope."

  I smash my fist against the stone wall, sending hairline fractures through the rock. Gritting my teeth, I turn to him. He is right, but he should not have the impudence to question his prince. I want to knock his tiny face out the high window, but slowly, my blood cools. I sigh.

  "You are right, Gizmel. I will not force the princess. But how do I convince this weak little woman that she must make hilock with me?"

  "That, sire, I cannot help you with."

  Chapter 5

  Dani

  I peer between the slats in the lattice-covered window. Below, I can see what appears to be a medieval-type castle. Weird. I can see men fighting with swords in some kind of arena before Trav joins them in the ring.

  He is a foot taller than all of them, and the width of his body seems huge by comparison. Trav whips out
a glowing longsword and fights all fifteen men without even getting winded. The men below look like freaky elves, but they are human-sized. Trav is obviously stronger than dozens of the smaller ones.

  Then Trav looks up, and I watch his expression change. He's irritated. But suddenly something happens that nearly makes me shit my pants. The huge elf man is replaced by the body of something that can only be described as a dragon. Holy shit. The creature flies up to the second floor and turns back into Trav, clothes and all.

  I gasp and back away from the window. My heart is going like gangbusters in my chest, and I think I'm about to faint again. Clancy looks up at me from where he's lying on the bed. Clutching my heart, I stumble over to the bed and lean against the thick post, trying to catch my breath.

  It must be a nightmare, I tell myself. My head spins and blackness clouds my vision. I need to find a way out of here. My broken mind can't take it.

  Visions of the war swim across my consciousness. I see the broken bodies of children littering the street. A woman moans and cries as she clutches the body of a little girl. I want to vomit, and I hold my stomach as I sit down on the bed next to Clancy.

  As I begin to get my breathing under control again, my door swings open. Trav, the dragon, stands before me, and I pass out.

  When I open my eyes again the first thing I see is Trav's emerald colored eyes glaring down at me. I scramble back, panicked, and I press my back against the headboard.

  "Why are you frightened?" he asks. "Did no one ever tell you who you are?"

  "I'm a photojournalist from Idaho," I spurt out. "I don't know what is going on here. I don't understand why people keep calling me a princess. I saw you turn into a monster out there in the yard. God. Let this be a dream."