Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (24 page)

There was a zzap of magical energy, and Balen was thrown back into a pair of courtiers, knocking them to the ground.

King Buni’s arm dropped down. “…of the tip.”

“The bolts have been modified to release a non-lethal charge,” Mina explained as she rolled Balen’s limp body off the squealing Wysterians. “It’ll give you one trell of a headache and paralyze you for a few hours, but it won’t kill you. We’re also working on a larger version for cannon.”

“Are all our weapons for the invasion to be non-lethal?” Prince Francisque mocked between mouthfuls of cheese.

“The Queen insisted upon it,” Nikki confirmed.

Princess Turino ran her hand animalistically across the pommel of her saber as she leaned against the wall. “I doubt our enemies will afford us the same courtesy.”

Nikki looked hurt. “As one of the Queen’s former enemies, I can assure you, it is most definitely appreciated.” She reached up and proudly touched the Alliance patch on her uniform. “If it wasn’t for her, we would have died as monsters. Now, we have a chance to live as people again, and reclaim our honor.”

The other navy officers in the room applauded. The Wysterians remained silent.

* * *

Back in the royal chambers, Athel closed her eyes to concentrate on the five conversations she was having with Matrons across the island and in her courtroom, while with her free hand, she scooped out a balm and rubbed it on her husband’s chest.

“Oh no, not soma extract, it is much too expensive…” Alder protested, but she placed her finger against his lips and silenced him. Already he could feel the herbal aroma soothing his lungs and dulling the pain. As his breathing steadied, he began to feel a little sleepy.

“You have a bad fever,” Athel explained sadly as she opened her eyes again. “The doctors aren’t sure what is causing it, but they all agree that rest is the best thing for you right now.”

“I assure you it is nothing more than a simple cold.” Alder tried to sit up, but found himself restrained. Propping his had up in confusion, he found strong bands running across his body.

“Am…am I tied down to the bed?”

“Like I said, I am here to insure you get your rest.”

“Yes, but…”

“Shhh,” she said, placing her finger over his lips again.

Alder was clearly not amused. His indignant expression was so adorable, she could not help but giggle inside.

There was a knock at the door, and Captain Tallia peeked in. “Mister Albashire is asking to see you, my Queen. Since he is not Wysterian, I assumed you would make time to address
his
needs.”

Queen Forsythia rebuked her with a glance, but allowed him to enter.

Albashire walked in holding a crumpled scroll in his hand. “What is the meaning of this?”

“One moment,” The Queen requested, her face strained. “Six conversations is a bit much…even for me. Let me finish speaking to Lady Gladiolas and Lady Peony.”

A moment later she opened her eyes and turned to him.

Albashire held up the scroll a second time. “You’ve rejected the last three chapters. I spent weeks on those!”

“I would hate for your fans to be disappointed over such an illogical ending. Your books have a legacy that must be preserved.”

“So what’s wrong THIS time?”

Queen Athel leaned back in thought. “I should think the reason would be blindingly obvious.”

“It’s because she marries Erfaron, isn’t it?”

“There are a number of…”

“Isn’t it?!”

The Queen adjusted her grip on her staff. “One moment everyone,” she said, handing it to Alder. She sat down on the edge of the bed and lifted up her feet, separating herself from the living wood.

“Look, there is no way in the three moons that Daians would be stupid enough to choose Erfaron!” Athel insisted, motioning to the draft copy on her nightstand. “He’s completely wrong for her. She has always had a stronger bond with Tathar. He was there at her side during the Collens tournament arc. He alone spoke up for her when she stood accused before the Driccar court. They’ve been friends since childhood, they have a complete trust one with another. There’s no way she would throw all that away just to be with Tathar.”

Albashire threw his hands up. “But Tathar is the fan favorite.”

Athel scoffed. “Bah! Tathar. What is he? He’s brooding, obsessive, manipulative, controlling…”

“I know! That’s why the readers love him.”

Athel reached out and grabbed the man by the collar. “That doesn’t matter! He wouldn’t make her happy!”

Her outburst surprised both Albashire and herself. They stood there for a second, their heavy breathing slowly fading away.

Captain Tallia knocked on the door, but did not open it. “Is everything all right, my Queen?”

“Ah, yes,” Queen Athel said, her face bright red as she let go of the lanky man and picked her staff back up.

Queen Forsythia cleared her throat. “What I meant to say, Mister Albashire, is that young people may pine after someone like Tathar, but that is a dangerous dream. In the real world, people like him leave you abandoned and shredded inside.”

Athel reached out and placed some more ointment on Alder’s chest as he slept. “What young people need to know is that the most important quality a companion can have is loyalty.”

“Loyalty?”

Athel nodded. “Everyone thinks of themselves as being loyal, but the reality is that true loyalty is exceedingly rare. When you find it, you can give your whole heart to that person, without holding anything back, because you know they will never betray you. You know you can completely trust them. You know they will stand beside you even when things get bad, even when things get really bad. When the cannons start to fire and the mortars start to fall, most people flee, even though that is when you need them the most. The one who stays, that is the most precious person. Treasure them, hold them close, for you will never ever find anyone better than that.”

Albashire sniffed. “What about romance?”

Athel chucked. “Loyalty is the deepest, most mature, form of romance. When you have someone worthy of complete trust, you don’t have to hide or hold back. They can know every knot and blemish, every crack and speck inside you, every untidy thing about you, and they will love you all the more for it. They will make you a better person just by being near you, without compulsion and without manipulation. Loyalty may not be what people pursue, but it is what they so desperately need.”

Albashire crinkled his lip as he straightened his collar. “Is your husband…tied up?”

“Please try to stay focused.”

“Right. Look, you make some very good points, but at the end of the day, I don’t think it really matters to anybody.”

Queen Forsythia looked out the window at the rising sun. Her hazel eyes looked infinitely tired.

“You couldn’t be more wrong, Mister Albashire. The world is filled with frightened little girls, overwhelmed by their studies and duties, whose tutors told them they would never catch up with the other students. Girls who were about to give up, who found solace in your stories about Daians and her courage, her heroism. Your stories inspired them to hold on just a little bit longer, try a little bit harder. It helped her turn her eyes to the sky and dream about being free. Even if that dream eventually turned out to be a lie, the feeling of it became a part of her, and she kept it close to her heart, even until this very day.”

Albashire looked confused. “Your highness?”

The Queen cleared her throat. “I am speaking generally, of course. My people share memories through the trees, so the experiences of those in the forest are well known to me.”

Albashire clucked his tongue. “Uh huh.”

A knock at the door told him his time was up. He walked away as the Queen quietly cared for her sick husband. At the door, he stopped and turned around.

“I’ll try it your way.”

At that moment, the first rays of sunlight hit the forest. The Queen’s expression changed to that of alarm.

“Alert Alliance security,” she announced in her commanding tone, standing up. “Have my carriage readied immediately!”

Albashire looked around. “Wait, what?”

“Pull half of our best Treesingers out of Coral Hills, Ivy Valley, and Jasmine Ridge. We need all the womanpower we can get.”

“Um, are you speaking to me or…?”

“I want the heads of every neighboring family to perform a deep commune with their family trees immediately. Go over every moment of the last forty-eight hours. Someone out there must have seen something.”

Queen Forsythia took half a step forward before stopping. She glanced back at Alder as he slept on her bed. “I’m sorry, Aldi,” she whispered.

“I summon my cousins Rose and Saltbush Forsythia to my bedchamber. My husband must be cared for in my absence.”

Albashire looked like his mind might break as she walked past him and joined her guards out in the corridor.

“What is going on?” he whimpered.

She looked at him, her eyes focused. “Three more Nallorn trees were blighted during the night.”

“Trim the mainsail, prepare to jibe!” Ryin called out, excited to be giving the orders for once.

“Jibe yourself, I’m feeding the baby,” Hanner bellowed as he adjusted the blanket he used to cover himself as Strenner nursed.

Ryin rolled his eyes and jumped past the ogre-like mass of his shipmate and manned the cranks, rotating the yardarm about the mast to catch the wind more fully. The scoot surged ahead, crossing the coastline and sailing over the lush jungles below.

They both breathed an audible sigh of relief now that they were no longer over acidic waters. By traveling in an unregistered scoot, which was really little more than an oversized longboat, they eliminated the need for a Stonemaster Engineer onboard and minimized the danger that the Stone Council would simply cut off the magic that held them aloft and drop them into the ocean. Even so, minimized is not the same as eliminated, and they were relieved to find that so far they had managed to slip by unnoticed.

“I’m so excited,” Ryin beamed, rubbing his hands together. “I knew being nice to Athel would pay off sooner or later.”

Hanner spat tobacco juice over the side. “Pay off? She gave you a squattin’ fortune in gemstones.”

Ryin grabbed the shoals and leaned out over the side to get a better view. “This is the best mission ever. Being special guests on an island of lonely beauties. I’m going to get me a sizzling hot Hatronesian girlfriend. Maybe two…maybe three. Hey, do they allow more than one wife here, like on Falmar?”

Hanner took out a fresh piece of chewing tobacco and gave it to his baby, who gnawed on it happily while his father burped him over his shoulder. “You’d think they’d have to, as few men as they have.”

Ryin giggled happily. “I like these odds. I’m going to teach these women things they’ve never dreamed of.”

Strenner burped, releasing a gout of fire into the air. “And just what are you going to teach them, virgin?”

“Shut up, Hanner.”

The small ship passed beneath an archway of canopy, and the breathtaking vista of a lush jungle valley came into view. Protected on three sides by high smiling cliffs, crisp waterfalls fell down into clean clear pools of water, sparkling in the sunlight. Soaring about through the air were radiant women, held aloft by white wings, their golden hair decorated with all manner of jungle flowers.

One flew near them and stretched her hand out in greeting. “Welcome to paradise,” she said in the common tongue. Her voice was as smooth as silk.

Ryin was so awestruck, he didn’t even think to greet her back until she had flown off again, leaving a golden trail of sparkling dust in her wake. Her deliciously slim feminine features, her taut firm waist, her long and luscious legs. It was almost more than he could bear as he dropped to his knees in worship.

“Oh wow, look at them. They’re even more incredible than the stories say.”

Hanner spat over the side again. “If you say so.”

A pair of women flew by and directed them to the docks.

Ryin picked himself up and spun the ship’s wheel. “How can you not like them?”

Hanner took out a cigar and lit it by producing a blue flame from the tip of his thumb. “They look like they’re made of squattin’ paper to me. I’d be afraid to break ‘em. Give me a big old strong Iberian woman any day, with rippling biceps and a strong back. The kind of woman that will throw you to the ground and…”

“Stop it!” Ryin yelled as he dropped the sails. “I don’t want to hear that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to throw up in my mouth, and I don’t want bad breath when I meet my future wives.”

Hanner chuckled, then offered Strenner a puff or two. “Tenderfoot. My wife could snap you in half like a lava pepper.”

Ryin released the anchor and expertly let the ship settle to a stop right alongside the dock. As he grabbed the mooring lines, something made him pause. “What happened to your wife, anyway?”

“My wife?”

“Yeah, I’ve known you for years and I’ve never seen her. Where is she?”

Hanner shrugged. “I dunno. Somewhere.”

Sliding his bucket behind him, Pops the Janitor worked his way up the stairs in his brand new Alliance uniform, calmly mopping as he went. Pausing to take a breather, he gave a gruff sniff with his prominent nose and looked around. “So, what kind of magic do they use here?”

A shadow passed over them as a brick building floated lazily by. Although conventionally square with regular windows, it was bent in the middle at a right angle. Another circular building floated above it, with a hole in the center like a doughnut. All in all, there were about a hundred buildings leisurely floating about above the valley, each a different shape, looking vaguely like a collection of building blocks. Occasionally, two would gently bump into one another, only to slowly spin away. The women laughed as they chased each other, zipping about this ever-changing obstacle course. Occasionally, one would get tired and enter through a window to her private room, only to emerge a few minutes later, rested and refreshed, zipping down to the waters below to splash and swim with her sisters.

“Ah, gravity magic, got it.”

Ryin caught himself drooling as he watched the swimming women and wiped his chin off with his sleeve. “It’s hard to believe this is the place that creates gravity mines for the navy.”

“It’s how they exempt themselves from military service,” Pops mentioned as he got back to work, swabbing the deck. Ryin glanced over at Pop’s uniform. The seams were rough, the edges misaligned, the material patchwork and of differing shades, as if it had been assembled from floor scraps.

“You made that uniform yourself, didn’t you?”

Light gathered before them and became a being that exploded into existence.

“Hello, I am the god Poe!” the glowing boy shouted with outstretched hands.

“Ahhhhh!” Hanner and Ryin were so startled they fell back on top of Pops.

“Holy anvils!” Ryin squealed, gripping his chest with fright.

Poe spun around and adjusted the tall miter hat he wore upon his brow, his skin so bright it was almost painful to look at. “Welcome to my playground.”

Hanner picked himself up and checked that Strenner was okay. Pops groaned painfully beneath his feet as he lay in the crater created in the bent timber.

Ryin licked his lips in panic, not sure what to do. “Um…yes, you’re a god. Ah…should we…bow to you?”

“That depends, do you like bowing?”

Ryin and Hanner looked at each other worriedly. Was this a test? They both knew that one wrong word could lead them to being cursed to spend the rest of their lives as toads.

Hanner shrugged and spat out his bent cigar. “Not particularly.”

Poe giggled. “Then don’t bow. Here, have a cookie.”

With a wave of his golden hand, a large warm cookie appeared in each of their hands.

“Oh wow,” Hanner said as he held it up. The chips glowed like silver, and ribbons of shining caramel ran through it like gold.

Ryin shook his head to try and rattle the gears back into motion. “You’re not…like the other gods I’ve met.”

Poe placed his finger on his chin. “How many have you met?”
Ryin opened his mouth, but then closed it again. “Well…just my own, I guess, and Maltua has a temper like a blast furnace.”

Poe laughed and did a back flip. “Maltua is a big stuffy head. What’s the use of living forever if you never enjoy yourself?”

“I…guess that makes sense.”

Ryin looked down at his cookie. “I am going to keep this forever. No one back home is going to believe that a god gave me a cookie.”

Hanner shrugged and took a bite.

“How is it?”

“It’s not that good,” Hanner said, light pouring out of his mouth. “Alder’s are better.”

The woman who had first greeted them came fluttering to a landing with two other golden-haired beauties. “See, it’s like I told you,” she tittered. “Men have come to Paradise!”

Poe cartwheel happily in the air. “I’ve allowing them to come play with us for a while, Layla.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Layla gushed, her dazzling eyes becoming smoky. “I can’t wait to play with the young one.”

As she pointed at him, Ryin could only make a noise. It was halfway between a stupored gurgle and a hungry moan.

“Oh wow, a real man from the outside,” the second one cheered, clapping her hands together.

The third one flew over and placed her hands on Ryin’s arms, squeezing his biceps appreciatively. “Can I get you a drink?”

“How about a massage?” Layla suggested.

“No, I want to give him a massage,” the third one protested.

Ryin snapped himself out of it and held up his arms, trying to look as confident and suave as he possibly could. “Ladies, ladies, there’s no need to fight over me. You can all take turns giving me a massage.”

The three women cheered. “What a great idea!” they said in unison. “We’ll take turns!”

Ryin looked like he was in heaven.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Hanner quipped.

“Not yet, but I’m going to.”

Two more women landed, then three more. They pointed and whispered to each other, hopping up and down with excitement.
“Oh, I’m going to thank Athel for this when we get back,” Ryin said as he looked at the growing crowd of gorgeous women fawning over him.

Hanner flicked him in the back of the head. “You forgetting something, lover boy?”

“Oh, right,” Ryin said, rubbing his head. “I’m sure that Ath…I mean, Queen Forsythia told you the reason for our visit, correct?”

Poe stuck out his golden tongue. “Oh, that dumb treaty again?”

“Yeah, can we talk to you about that?”

The boy god folded his arms. “No.”

Ryin grew worried. “No?”

Poe cracked open and eye and giggled. “Not until you have some fun first! You’ve had a long journey, you need to unwind. Here, I’ll have someone show you around my playground.”

He snapped his fingers and a freckled girl in pigtails appeared sitting on the dock next to them, a mascara wand in one hand, a cheek powder brush in her other.

“Ahhhhh!” she screamed, pulling her robes in tight around her. “What happened to my room?”

Poe tittered and helped her to her feet. “Here, Ellie, I’m appointing you to be Paradise’s official tour-giver, a very prestigious position that I just made up. Show around our guests…er…what we’re your names again?”

Ryin perked up. “What, me? Oh, I’m Ryin Colenat and he’s Hanner…”

Ryin snapped his head over to his shipmate. “Do you Iberians even have last names?”

“It’s Iacoli, squat-head.”

“Okay, okay, I just didn’t think you guys could write out that many letters in a row.”

“Racist cinder.”

“So, Ellie, durst thou accept this great obeisance?” Poe asked, bowing in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion, a rose stem appearing in his mouth.

“Um, okay, I guess,” Ellie said as she straightened her white robes. “The Hatronesian garb she wore were clearly made for someone much taller, making her appear even younger than she actually was.

Ryin’s eyes narrowed in displeasure. “Hey, you’re not Hatronesian.”

Ellie crinkled her freckled nose. “Boy, you sailor guys are smart, aren’t you?”

Poe floated over and put her arms around Ryin and Hanner, who tried not to wince from the heat of it. “The war has created chaos in the other gods’ sandboxes. Everywhere, there are children left without homes, without families. I invited them all to come here where they will be taken care of.”

Ryin tried to step away from his sizzling touch without appearing rude. “Oh, I get it, so this place is like one huge day care center for the League.”

“Pffft. No, silly. This is the real world. Everything beyond these borders is a terrible place of pain and grief. My friends stay here with me in reality waiting for the others to wake up from their nightmares and join us.”

Ryin watched as another ship arrived and began unloading children.

“Ugh, I hate kids,” he grumbled.

“Well, then you won’t like it here very much,” Hanner gruffed.

Ryin looked at Ellie, then looked over at the group of winged women waving at him, trying to get his attention. “Can’t I have Layla here be my guide? No offense, but I’d much rather be with her than some kid.”

Ellie puffed out her cheeks. “Hey, I’m not a kid. I’m fifteen years old, where I come from that is legally an adult.”

“Yeah, where I come from, it’s legally a felony to date a squirt like you.”

“Ha! Like I would, anyway. You’ve got loser stamped all over you. I can practically smell the failure from here!”

Hanner laughed, “I like this kid.”

Ellie stamped her foot. “I said, don’t call me a kid.”

Layla flew over. “Ellie, I know you are not from here, but you must not speak to men this way. Men are our most precious resource.”

“Yes, they must be care for and protected,” another added, wrapping her arms around Ryin’s neck.

“Cherished and honored,” a third said, nuzzling up against his calf.

“Washed and pampered,” a fourth said, leaning up against his shoulder.

The attention of so many gorgeous females caused Ryin’s ego to instantly inflate to fifty times its normal size. “Ha, you see there, squirt? These girls understand how to treat a man. You could learn a lot from them.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “It’s just because they don’t know any better.”

Poe clapped his hands and all the women lined up in neat rows. “Very well, I have decided. Ellie and Layla will share the honor and be co-official tour givers. As for the rest of you, who would like to see a puppet show?”

“I would, I would,” the girls shouted in unison, waving their hands into the air.

“Okay, have everyone head over to the amphitheater. I’ll meet you there.”

“Yay!”

Poe flew off with the mass of winged women, leaving Ryin, Hanner, Ellie, and Layla alone on the dock.

“Well, shall we begin?” Ryin asked, offering his elbow to Layla, who took it with a happy squeal.

Ellie and Hanner exhaled in exasperation and followed.

“Um…little help here?” Pops mumbled, unable to free himself from where Hanner had smashed him into the deck.

“…hello?”