Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (27 page)

…Or would I spend the rest of my life wishing I was with Athel instead?

Setsuna and Dwale finished the song. The boy really did have a marvelous singing voice. She couldn’t recall ever hearing “Old Boots” sound so good before. He practically made a drinking song sound beautiful, and that was a real feat.

Tossing aside her second bottle, Setsuna noticed that Privet had pulled out his navigational charts again, and was busy making some calculations.

“Whacha’ got there?” she asked sleepily, trying not to slur.

“Oh, you know, just practicing my calligraphy.”

She crinkled her nose. “Calligraphy?”

“I am a man, after all.”

“No, I mean this,” she said, tapping the island of Lahiti with two manicured fingernails. “You drew waterfalls all over it.”

“Oh, that,” Privet said, looking out the window. “That’s just somewhere Athel wanted to go once, but never got to.”

Setsuna blinked with heavy eyelids, then her temper flared up. She reached over and gave Privet a slap right across the cheek.

“What the heck was that?” he blurted out in surprise.

“Last night I had a dream where you cheated on me.”

Privet blinked. “What?”

She balled her fists. “Now apologize!”

“Are you crazy? Um, whatever, fine, I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t a sincere apology!”

Dwale looked up from his plate. “How can he apologize sincerely for something that didn’t happen? You said it was a dream.”

She pointed an accusing finger at Privet. “He could have at least tried!”

“But, you two aren’t even together, it is impossible for him to cheat on you.”

“That’s why he has to apologize, it’s a double negative!”

Privet threw up his arms. “That’s not even what a double negative means!”

Setsuna slammed her fists down on the table. “I’ll be in my room back on the ship.”

And with that, she grabbed a bottle and vanished, leaving a very stunned and confused pair of brothers sitting at the table.

“She forgot to pay for dinner,” Dwale noted.

* * *

Back on the ship, Setsuna grabbed her dresser and tipped it over. “I’m such an idiot! Ahhhh! What is wrong with me?”

She smacked herself on the side of the head. “I’m so close to having him. I can feel it. And here I am screwing it up! She braced herself in front of her wall mirror. Her hair was tussled, her cute outfit wrinkled, her eyes wild. She had forgotten her boots under the table back at the restaurant. She looked like a crazy, drunken mess.

She was a crazy drunken mess.

“I promised myself I wasn’t going to be this way anymore!”

She pulled on her pigtails and began pacing back and forth. “I don’t want to be the crazy jealous girlfriend anymore. He’ll never go for that. Who would? A masochist, perhaps, but not an awesome guy like him. No, the first foreigner to best a Gatemaster in centuries doesn’t want a bat-poop crazy moss head. I’ve got to control it. But, every time I see him thinking about Athel, I just go crazy! I try to hide it, I try to bury it, but it’s still there. Ah, I’m such an idiot! I need to get a grip or I’m going to lose him.”

She picked up the bottle from the restaurant and tossed it into her wastebin. “Okay, no more grog, not until after the wedding band is on his finger. I need my wits about me. I can’t afford any more mistakes. Just one more big push, and he’ll give himself to me. I know it. My womanly instincts are never wrong about this kind of thing. I need something huge, something that will really impress him, something that will rock his boat from keel to sail.”

She stopped in her tracks and smiled impishly. “I have just the thing.”

* * *

“Ii’ilaikara!” Captain Tallia swore, tearing away the ii’ainta sign that had been staked to her mother’s tree.

“That makes thirty-two trees in all,” Nikki reported sadly.

Despite her unwavering mask of regal determination, Queen Forsythia had a sickly pallor about her as she stood before the dying tree. “Whoever is doing this is getting more bold,” she said firmly.

“That’s seven trees in all just from last night.”

The Queen nodded. “This is escalating.”

“And what about the Buleans, eh?” Captain Tallia spat as she turned around. “What good is their magic if it offers us no answers?”

Everyone present turned to the pair of men in alliance uniforms rocking their glowing clay vessel from side to side, ready to accuse them.

“Do you have anything?” Nikki asked hopefully.

Joron reached up with his long, orangutan-like arms and scratched underneath his hairy chin, releasing a sprinkling of dried skin flakes. “Patience, Colonel. Scrying is art, not math. The Goddess will show us the truth of what happened here in her own time.”

“Like after breakfast,” Yuvik chuckled, peeling an orange with his toes and tossing a slice into his mouth.

The bowl flickered and Joron dumped out the contents. Bits of bone with symbols carved into them, dyed pebbles, grains of sand, and a couple of discarded candy wrappers spread out on the living wood before them.

“Who put these in here?” Joron hooted, snatching the wrappers up with his fingered foot. “This is not a wastebin!”

“Sorry, that was me,” Yuvik apologized.

“This is a waste of time,” Captain Tallia complained. “If we had locked all the foreigners in the caves like I suggested, then Balsa and the others would have been spared. Your refusal to act is hurting more trees every day! Their spilled sap is on your hands!”

If Queen Forsythia heard her, she did not acknowledge it. She only stood there, her hazel eyes as still and cold as they always were.

“Wait, I’ve got something!” Yuvik whooped as he delicately read the pattern laid out.

Everyone leaned in expectantly.

“Yes, I can see the person who cursed this tree. He was here.”

“Well of course he was here!” Captain Tallia complained.

The Queen raised her hand, and Tallia fell silent. “So, it was a man?” she inferred.

“Yes, most definitely.”

“A Wysterian man?”

Yuvik took another bite of orange, the juices dripping down his chin. “Neddsa does not say.”

Everyone sighed in disappointment.

Suddenly Yuvik yelped excitedly. “Yes, yes, I see him very clearly.”

“Where is he?”

Yuvik looked up proudly. “He is here on the island somewhere.”

“Well, of course he’s on the island. How does that help us?”

Nikki dropped her face into her hands. “I never should have recommended them.”

“Oh, you are so useless!” Joron whooped, smacking his kin over the head.

“Don’t hit me! I’m only a beginner!”

“Another waste of time,” Captain Tallia snarled.

The Queen placed an appreciative hand on Yuvik’s hairy shoulder. “I thank you for trying. It was not fair of us to ask so much of you, but since Buleia is still part of the league, you were the only Scryer we had access to.”

Yuvik slurped down the rest of his orange. “Actually, I have an aunt who’s a grand master.”

Nikki looked up. “You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Ooh, we could send for her,” Joron suggested.

“Oh, but she is dreadfully afraid of flying.”

“That’ll make it hard to get her here,” Joron realized.

“…And she is frightfully allergic to Nallorn trees.”

“Even worse.”

“…And she hates Wysterians with a passion. She’d rather die than help you.”

Joron smacked him again. “Well then, why did you bring it up in the first place?!”

The Queen nodded and turned to leave with her guards. “I thank you for your time.”

As they walked away, Yuvik rubbed his sore noggin and looked at the bones one last time. “He also has a brand on his cheek.”

The Queen paused and turned around. “A brand, you say?”

Yuvik plucked a fresh orange off a nearby branch with his foot. “Yeah, the man who cursed this tree has a brand on his right cheek.”

“Can you see what symbol?”

Yuvik pointed at the scrolls staked into the tree. “Yeah, that one.”

All the Wysterians looked at each other excitedly.

“You brand your men?” Nikki asked, visibly disturbed.

“It is a frowned-upon practice, but it does occur,” the Queen said coldly. “This discovery is significant, thank you, Yuvik and Joron, you have performed a great service for the forest this day, and it shall not forget you.”

“Nothing a few bananas won’t cure,” Yuvik suggested.

“Don’t ask for that!” Joron said, smacking him again. “You’re perpetuating a stereotype.”

“What? I like bananas! I can’t like bananas now just because I’m Buleian?”

The Queen tapped her staff and a stalk grew up from the forest floor below, presenting them with a lush bushel of bananas. The pair hooted excitedly and began devouring them with an embarrassing vigor.

Nikki tried to shove aside her feelings about the branding. “So, how many Wysterian men on the island have that brand?”

Captain Tallia clenched her fist in anger. “Not many, a few hundred at most. That narrows our search down significantly.”

The Queen tapped her staff and spoke in her mother’s commanding voice. Nikki noted that it was a little hoarse. “Take every man bearing ii’ainta into custody immediately for questioning.”

All over the island, the women of Wysteria moved as one, laying their hands on every man branded with ii’ainta within seconds of the order being given.

The gathered Treesingers shot off in all directions, but Captain Tallia stayed behind. Queen Forsythia closed her eyes and focused her powers through the forest, her hands shaking.

As Nikki issued orders to her own naval security officers, Tallia approached her timidly.

“Um, may I speak with you?”

Nikki looked up. “Um, sure, I suppose. What is it?”

Captain Tallia tried to speak, but found herself looking away in shame. Without realizing it, she reached up and began massaging the stump of the arm she had lost during the invasion.

“I…ah…I was so sure that it was someone in the navy who was attacking the forest. I’m…ah, I just wanted to…um…I mean, the things I said…”

Nikki shook her head. “It’s all right. The navy did terrible things to your island…shameful things.” Nikki looked at Tallia’s stump and dropped her eyes sadly. “I…was a part of it.”

Nikki sniffed and looked up. “You were right to suspect us. If I were in your place, I would have done the same. Probably even worse.”

Captain Tallia looked back at her and managed a weak smile. “Sorry.”

Nikki smiled back. “Me too.”

Queen Forsythia’s brow trembled and she stumbled forward, only barely catching herself from falling over with her staff.

“My Queen?”

Tallia and the other guards propped her up, despite her protests.

“I am well, I do not require assistance to stand.”

Captain Tallia noticed Athel’s shaking hands. “Forgive me, My Queen, but you are not fine.”

With a snap of her hand, Tallia gave permission to one of the royal guards, who removed her gauntlet and placed her hand on the Queen’s temple. The Treesinger gasped in shock and withdrew her hand. “The Queen is in terrible pain.”

Tallia looked concerned.

“What is it?” Nikki asked.

The Queen moved to deny it, but the concerned eyes of her guards convinced her of the futility of it.

“It is this blight,” she admitted. “The…the agony of so many trees…it is disrupting my ability to maintain the song of the forest. It is drowning out their voices. Their screams are so loud in my mind I can barely think.”

“My Queen, you must stop drawing the pain into yourself.”

Queen Forsythia gripped her staff even more tightly. “No. This is my duty. I must help the forest stay strong. We are so close now, so close to finishing our preparations and winning this war. The women of the forest have sacrificed so much, how can I ask it of them if I am not willing to share a fraction of their pain?”

The Queen tried to stand, but her body failed her and she fell to one knee.

“Is this normal?” Nikki asked in concern.

“No, it is not.”

Without asking permission, Tallia placed her hand atop the Queen’s staff, her face wincing in agony. “This is more than a fraction of the pain, My Queen. You are feeling every drop of it.”

Nikki looked around. “I don’t understand.”

The guards looked at each other, reluctant to reveal their ways to an outsider, but Tallia spoke up anyway. “Each of the blighted trees is suffering an astonishing amount of pain, as much as any being can normally endure without losing consciousness. The Queen is feeling the full measure of that pain from all thirty-two trees at once.”

Athel shook off her guards angrily, her circlet falling askew over her braided auburn hair. “I am fine, this is nothing,” she barked hoarsely. She forced her body to stand up, her legs quivering beneath her royal gown. “I was prepared for this moment ever since I was…ahhhh!”

Athel bent over in agony, her staff falling free from her hands. Nikki and her guards caught her awkwardly.

“We must get you to a healer. If we lose you now, all is lost.”

Ryin cheered wildly as he flew through a waterfall, the spray splashing off the metal wings he wore on his back as he pushed himself to go even faster. He threaded through a flock of birds, who squawked in fright, the wake of his passing shuffling them about in all directions. Taking a quick glance backwards, he found Ellie flying close behind him, gaining quickly.

“Just give it up now, Colenat,” she yelled triumphantly as she reached out to tag him with the glowing rod in her hands. “I’ve already won.”

Ryin could not help but smile. “Is that so?”

Slapping the rune on his harness, he increased his speed even more, his eyes tearing as the wind whipped across his face. He dove beneath a slowly spinning building, spun a half turn, then zigged left, circling around the side of the floating coliseum, zagging up and around the chariot track, then dove between a pair of rocky spires, concealing himself completely from view as he sped down.

“No way she could follow that,” Ryin boasted aloud, the rock face blurring before him as he followed it down. But when a second shadow appeared against the rock next to him, he glanced back and found her there, still gaining.

“Cheeky girl.”

The jungle canopy rushing up to meet him at alarming speed, Ryin pulled up at the last second, terrifying a pack of howler monkeys as he zipped through the trees, jinking this way and that, avoiding each branch by mere inches as his incredible speed brought him out across the lake, where the afternoon sunlight reflected off the water in golden brilliance.

Jets of water rising up behind them, Ryin zipped this way and that as Ellie tried to tag him, their trails leaving a twisting helix across the crystal waters.

Ryin pulled right as hard as he could, the tag rod passing so close to his face that it flicked his hair, then looped around, creating a cone of water that concealed him just long enough to come to a stop and shoot skywards. It only took Ellie a second to see through the trick and rocket after him.

Dozens of blond-haired angels leaned out of their windows and cheered as Ryin flew up though the floating city, waving their handkerchiefs and clapping their hands. Ryin couldn’t resist blowing a couple of kisses to them, and paid for it dearly. Hanner came barreling at him from above, wielding his own tag stick like a club. He swung at Ryin, nearly taking his head off.

Ryin ducked at the last second as they passed in midair, reaching out to slap the glowing jewel in the center of Hanner’s harness.

Hanner’s wings folded up, and he fell like a brick, a big stupid expression on his face as he crashed through the roof of the observatory.

Ryin flipped over, barely avoiding Ellie as she came up and swung at him from below, then with a metallic flap that cracked the air like thunder, he bolted back down through the city.

Hatronesian women cheered and swooned as Ryin dove past them, the air pressing so hard against his face that he could barely keep his eyes open. He didn’t even need to look back to know that Ellie was closing in on him. He could feel her bloodlust drawing near. A part of him knew he couldn’t afford to lose to a kid in front of everyone. It would ruin his chances at starting the harem he’d always dreamed of, but in that moment he couldn’t bring himself to fret over it. His blood was boiling with the thrill of the chase, and his heart howled in joy for it.

Before him, the large cafeteria and bathhouse were drifting towards one another, and he saw his chance. Pressing forward even faster, the metal wings he wore whining in protest, he sped towards the narrowing space between them. Ellie was nearly on him, but he knew he had her. It only took a heartbeat for his eyes to judge the distance. He would just barely make it through, and she’d have to break off or slam into the stone like Hanner had.

Ryin turned sideways, and with a triumphant yell, slipped through the buildings as they collided into one another.

Realizing she wouldn’t make it, Ellie slipped to the left then tapped her harness. Her wings folded up and she tucked her arms in close. Like a falling spear she threaded through an open window, streaking past some very surprised women eating lunch, then exited out a window at the opposite end of the building.

Unfolding her wings again, she landed right atop a shocked Ryin and stabbed the rod against his back as if it were a dagger.

The rod changed to blue, and the temple at the center of the lake gave off a long, clear chime, signifying the end of the game.

Ellie and Ryin hovered there for several moments, him staring at her in disbelief as their flapping wings held them aloft.

“That was…amazing.” Ryin huffed, trying to catch his breath. “You’re pretty awesome, squirt.”

Ellie feigned humility as she pretended to dust off her robes. “Of course I am. And don’t call me that.”

As Ryin and Ellie flew down to a small beachside cabana, Layla clapped heartily for them as she sat in her wicker chair, little Strenner sitting in her lap, encircled by her white wings.

“Oh, that was wonderful,” Layla praised. “Usually, it takes you Sleepers weeks to master flying when they come to Paradise, but you picked it up so quickly.”

“It’s not all that different than using float-stones, you just have to kind of lean into it.” Ryin scratched his neck, trying to hide his embarrassment at having lost in front of Layla. “What are Sleepers?”

“It’s what they call people from other islands,” Ellie explained as she took off her harness and set it down beneath their umbrella picnic.

Strenner cooed happily and burped, letting out a little jet of fire.

“I still don’t understand why I had to sit the game out to hold the baby,” Layla pouted with her large seductive eyes.

“Well, you see, real men don’t like to compete with women they find attractive,” Ryin explained as he fiddled with the buckle for his wings.

“Oh, I see,” Layla said innocently, grateful for the knowledge. “I still have much to learn about real men.”

“I’d be happy to teach you,” Ryin said, giving what he assumed was a dashing wink.

Ellie scratched her freckled nose. “Oh, so you’re saying real men don’t mind competing with the ones they find unattractive?”

Ryin gave up and instead just lifted the whole harness off of himself like a sweater. “You catch on quick, don’t you, squirt?”

“I said don’t call me that.”

Ryin lost his balance and fell over into the white sand, causing Layla to laugh. Watching his legs flail about helplessly, even Ellie managed a grin.

With a heavy thud, Hanner landed next to them, sinking down to his thick ankles in the sand.

“That was a good impression of a wrecking ball you did back there,” Ellie quipped.

Hanner tore his harness off like it was made of paper. “Yeah, I slammed full speed into a concrete roof, and I didn’t feel a thing.”

“That’s because you’re Iberian,” Ryin grunted as he pulled himself free.

Hanner flicked his thumb and lit a fresh cigar. “No, even that would put a scratch on me. Not enough to write home about, but enough to make me think twice about doing it again.”

“Like you know how to write.”

“Stow it, Colenat.”

“So, why didn’t he get hurt?”

Layla took out a fresh pepper and handed it to Strenner with her wingtip. “It’s just how our magic works. Anything moving too fast, or too heavy, Poe reduces the weight until it is no longer harmful.”

Ryin looked up. “So that’s why the buildings don’t crumble when they bump.”

Layla nodded and tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear, revealing the elegant nape of her neck. “Nothing can hurt you in Paradise. Poe makes sure of that. It’s the same reason we are able to fly.”

“I thought you fly because you have wings.”

She shook he head and unfolded her wings. “Our bodies would be too heavy to lift with our wings alone. We use magic to make ourselves light enough to fly.”

Ryin couldn’t help but stare at her body. Every inch of it was alive with youth and health. “Well, from where I’m standing, I don’t see anything about you that looks heavy.”

Layla giggled at the praise, and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder with one of her wings. It was nothing more than a tap, but the force of it spun him over and slammed his face into the sand.

“Oh, my apologies,” Layla fretted, handing Strenner to his father so she could help Ryin up. “I didn’t realize real men were so frail.”

“They aren’t,” Ellie snorted.

Hanner gave his son a couple puffs of blue smoke and looked up at the floating city above them. “I can see why Athel wants this place on her side. With your magic, we could make our own airships that didn’t rely on the StoneMasters.”

Layla put her fingers over her mouth to hide a giggle.

Hanner spat. “What?”

“It doesn’t work that way. Our magic only stays strong so long as we remain in the light of the temple. If we were to leave, our powers would quickly wither.”

She pointed out across the lake, where a small island sat at its center. The temple itself was small and unassuming, a tiered structure of marble with a single, arched entryway. It gave off a warm glow like sunlight. But it was what surrounded the temple that made it distinct. Thousands of offerings were laid out before it, visible even from this distance. Dolls and wooden soldiers, toy trains and building blocks, wreaths of jungle flowers and offerings of fruits and shiny shells of every size and description. It was all so numerous they nearly drowned the island itself.

“I always wondered why gravity mines had an expiration date,” Hanner said.

“Now you know.”

Ryin sat down in the clean white sand and looked out at the glimmering structure. “So, what’s in there?”

Layla blinked, as if the answer were obvious. “Poe’s favorite toy.”

“Ah,” Ryin nodded. “So, what’s his favorite toy?”

Layla shrugged and took a bite of mango.

“You don’t know?”

“Oh, it is forbidden to enter the temple,” Ellie mentioned as she stretched out her back,

“Yeah, but there’s like, no door. Are you telling me no one has ever just slipped in to take a peak?”

Layla stopped eating, a look of horror in her azure eyes. She sat there, frozen as a drip of mango juice trailed down her supple neck.

Ryin looked around nervously. “Did I say something wrong?”

“We could never go inside the temple,” Layla insisted, swallowing her bite. “That would hurt Poe’s feelings.”

Sensing the tension, Ryin tried to laugh it off. “Right, right, around here everyone loves him, I get that.”

Layla took out her handkerchief and cleaned herself off. “Do you not love your god?”

Ryin leaned back on his haunches. “Um, for us, it’s more like respect and awe from a safe distance. Going to Maltua with a request is…I would say, dangerous at best.”

“More like suicidal,” Hanner snorted as he checked Strenner’s diaper.

“Oh, like Quetah is any better,” Ryin rejoined. “Should I tell them about the plague that made your people’s tongues fall out?”

“Go ahead and tell them, I don’t give a squat.”

Layla stared at them, bewildered. “You mean, if you ask your god for help, he doesn’t give you what you ask for?”

“Well, I mean, yes, Maltua might help you and bless your family or what have you. But, on the other hand, if you catch him in a bad mood, he’s just as likely to curse you with bleeding ulcers, or turn you into a bed pan. Ferrans aren’t really gamblers, you see. We like to hedge our risks, so mostly we just pay him his tribute and give him a wide berth, if you know what I mean.”

Layla looked devastated. “That sounds terrible.”

“You get used to it.”

“So, your god never even plays with you?”

“Ahh…play isn’t really his thing. He does like a good sacrificial feast every now and then, though.”

Suddenly an idea hit her and she perked up. “Well, maybe you just need to learn Maltua’s favorite game, then I’m sure he would play with you more often.”

Ryin faked a smile, not wanting to shatter her delusions. “Um…yeah…sure.”

Ellie shaded her eyes from the sun and looked around. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but kicking Ryin’s butt has given me quite the appetite. Let’s get something to eat.”

“You didn’t beat me,” Ryin insisted as they all stood up. “I let you win.”

She spun around. “Oh, whatever!”

Layla looked up at Ryin, placing her hands delicately on his chest. “Did you really?”

“You bet I did.”

“How chivalrous,” Layla gushed.
Ellie ground her teeth and swore in her native tongue. “
Naidgee Tat
! Come on, there’s a booth over here.”

She led them down a path of white sand winding through the lush jungle trees, to a small booth. The sign had pictures of sweet cream and large friendly letters.

“Welcome!” Poe greeted, the light from his shining skin forcing them to shield their eyes.

“Oh, hi…” Ryin said, startled. “So, I guess you run this…booth. That’s…kind of strange.”

Poe took a second to adjust the folding cap he wore, shaped like a banana split. “Is it?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, it does seem a little strange for a god,” Ryin said. As soon as the words left his mouth, he worried that he had gone too far. “No offense of course, your…eminence?”

Poe laughed heartily, doing a backflip in the air. “Why would I be offended? I am the god of this island, so I can do whatever I want, right?”

“I…I mean, yeah, I guess so.”

“And I choose to do this. What can I get for each of you?”

“I need chocolate,” Ellie stated firmly.

“How about a chocolate brownie?” Poe suggested happily as a brownie appeared on the counter before him.”

“Yes.”

“With chocolate sweet cream?”

“Yes.”

“And chocolate sprinkles?”

“Yes, and drown it in fudge.”

Poe giggled happily and handed her the most delicious-looking fudge sundae Ryin had ever seen.

Ellie took a bite and walked past Ryin, making sure to push his shoulder out of the way as she did so.

“Someone’s in a bad mood,” Ryin chuckled as he put his arm around Layla, who happily grasped his hand and pulled herself in tighter. “So, Poe, about that treaty we came to discuss…”