Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (33 page)

“I don’t think I can take another cutting remark from you right now.”

“I prefer to think of it as brutally honest assistance.”

“Yeah, I’m never going to see it that way.”

She stood up and stretched. “I always thought, if my brother ever stopped running, he’d become something really special.”

She reached into her pack and tossed a wing harness into his lap.

“What’s this? You want a rematch?”
“I’m not a prodigy, Ryin. I’ve been practicing with these wings for months since I got here, and I could only barely keep up with you the very first time you used them. You’re good, real good. You just need to train yourself to lean in harder on the turns. You’ll lose less speed, and you won’t leave a wake to follow.”

Ryin looked behind himself as if he expected to find something. “I was leaving a wake?”

Ellie laughed as she spun around. “Yeah, like a big old tail for me to follow.”

Ryin watched her oddly as she walked off, a grin growing across his face. “You should know, Squirt, I’ll kick your butt next time.”

“Ha! A loser like you? Not a chance,” she called back, hopping down off the wall.

Ryin picked up the harness and strapped it on angrily. “Loser? I’ll show you loser. Dumb little pipsqueak.”

He moved over to the edge of the zoo, and looked down at the floating buildings below. Adjusting the straps, he tested the weight of it. “Turn harder on the turns, eh?”

Ryin slapped the activation rune and the thin metallic wings unfolded. He dove off the edge and corkscrewed downwards, coming around the civic center, then reversing the corkscrew to loop around the floating observatory.

Glancing behind him, he found that he was indeed leaving a trail. Little white contrails off the tips of the wings. Bringing them in tighter, he picked up speed, and dove even faster through the city.

From the shadows, Ellie watched Ryin as he practiced. Carefully, she took out her knife and looked at it regretfully.

Ryin pushed himself faster than he had ever dared. The wind pressure hitting his face was so intense he had trouble keeping his eyes open, but he forced past it. As the crystal waters of the lake came close, he pulled up, skimming across the water, his reflection rippling in the evening light. He jinked to one side, passing through a flock of swan, then jinked back, barely avoiding a group of startled children as they played around a boat.

He pushed his speed even faster, and risked a glance backwards.

“Ha! No trail,” he cheered happily. Keeping his speed constant, he rolled upwards into a loop, coming up atop the shopping center, then sped along the water again.

He found at this speed, it was easier to push through the turns rather than back off on the throttle. He realized that his years of navy experience were working against him. Whereas in an airship, slowing down made you turn sharper, here, pushing faster kicked in Poe’s magic, making you lighter. In a weird way, you could actually turn sharper by speeding up rather than slowing down.

Ryin found himself excited to see how far he could push this. He tried to turn sharper than he ever dared, so sharp his instincts told him he’d shear the wings off, but sure as silk, he felt his body become lighter, and he pulled tightly to the left, looping around back on himself so quickly he lost his sense of direction.

“Woo Hoo!”

Ryin looped around four more times, until his stomach forced him to stop. He level out straight again, and found himself headed straight towards Poe’s temple at the center of the lake.

“Whoops, better not go that way.”

Ryin tried to pull over into a barrel roll, but he continued moving straight.

“Wait, what?”

He pulled again, but the wings wouldn’t respond.

He reached up and grabbed the straps, tugging as hard as he could, but the wings wouldn’t respond.

“Oh crap.”

The temple speeding towards him at an alarming rate, Ryin panicked. He hit the release and the wings came off. He hit the water hard, skipping over it like a stone, then crashing end over end.

The world became a blur of sky and water flipping before him. Distantly, he heard the harness crash into the temple walls as Ryin ricocheted off the steps of the temple and crashed inside.

There, in the darkness, he found himself upside down against a wall, truly amazed that he wasn’t dead. If it were not for the magic here he would have shattered every bone in his body.

As his eyes adjusted to the lower light, he rolled over with a groan, and then realized how much trouble he was in.

The center of the temple was a simple vaulted room, the walls decorated with chalk drawings of two children playing and holding hands. Around the floor was an arrangement of sweet smelling candles, and an array of dolls and toys, most of which he had broken and scattered when he crashed in here. And in the center of it all, a small manicured plot of soil, with a single solitary tombstone sitting in it.

“I am so hammered.”

Fearful for his life, Ryin scampered for the exit, but it was too late. Poe was there, floating angrily in the air, his skin dimming as he looked inside.

“You entered my temple.”

Ryin looked up in terror, frozen in place.

Poe looked around, hurt on his face. “You broke my toys.”

Ryin scooted back on all fours until he bumped into a wall. “Oh, my gosh, I am sorry, I am so sorry, please don’t kill me.”

Poe floated in and looked at the grave. “You entered my sacred place. I should kill you for that! I should curse you for a thousand years!”

Ryin squealed in terror, and held up his hands. He knew it was a meaningless gesture, but he was too panicked to care and his body was too frightened to oppose.

But nothing came. No curse, no smite. It took Ryin several moments to become curious enough to lower his hands and see what was happening.

He was surprised to see no anger on Poe’s face. Instead he saw sadness. A deep sadness. Poe floated over and tenderly ran his hand over the top of the tombstone, removing the layer of dust that had accumulated.

His body dimmed further; there was no joy in his voice when he spoke. “I wish you had not come in here.”

Ryin’s eyes flicked to the entrance. For a moment, he thought to flee, but something stopped him. There was something so mournful about Poe that it made him stay.

Ryin forced himself to crawl forward to get a better view, and he saw something he never thought to see.

A god was crying.

Golden tears ran down Poe’s face, dripping down into the dirt of the grave.

“I’m so sorry,” Ryin said, unable to think of anything else to say. “It was an accident, please believe me.”

Poe made no response. He looked older, as if youth were some tangible thing that was draining out of him, dripping down into the earth below.

Ryin didn’t know what to do. He had no training for this, no protocol. Nothing that told him what the proper response was when a god wept before him. Not knowing what to do, he just did what felt right.

“Who was it?” he asked sympathetically.

Poe sniffed, his chin and nose becoming pointed and bony. “All of us gods came to this world for different reasons.”

His hands became thin and knobby. “I came here because I wanted a friend.”

As Poe’s face became wrinkled and loose, he motioned around to the drawings. “I helped the other gods steal the light of creation, because I wanted to make a friend. And I did, and it was wonderful. We played together every day. I named her Claire, and I loved her. She was my best friend.”

Poe sat down, his back becoming bent and knobby. “But then she got old, and she died, and I was alone again. So, I made another friend, and then another, but they died too. I tried everything I could to save them, to extend their lives, to keep them safe, to keep them healthy, but no matter what I did, they always died, and I was always alone again.”

Ryin looked him over tenderly. “That’s why you serve them, isn’t it?”

Poe nodded, a long beard sprouting from his chin and growing down to the floor. “I decided that, if they must die, I would make their short little lives as happy as I could. I would do everything for them, so that they wouldn’t have to feel sad. So they would never feel alone.”

Poe turned to Ryin, his old, wrinkled face wet with tears. He was now an old man, wrapped in his grief, crying over the grave of his playmate. “I cannot create an immortal, even though I tried as hard as I could. All I can make is friends who will die one day.”

Ryin no longer felt afraid. Despite everything he had been taught, despite every indoctrination, in his heart he realized that this was not some mysterious, incomprehensible thing. This was not a force of nature. This was a person. Shoving aside all his preconceptions, he forced himself to reach out.

“I think what you do here is wonderful.”

Poe wiped his aged cheek with a wrinkled hand. “You didn’t seem to enjoy yourself very much in Paradise.”

“That’s because I am worried about my friends.”

This caught Poe’s attention. “Your friends?”

“Yes, the ones who live outside of Paradise. They are in danger, they are fighting a great war for their freedom and for their lives. I was sent here because some of them have grouped together to try and save each other. But, they can’t do it alone. The enemy they face is too big. They need help, your help.”

“You’re talking about that treaty again?”

“Yes. Poe, I see now that I was wrong about you. You are a good person. You care about your friends. You try to help them.”

“No, I am a thief. I stole the light of creation, and now all of you are suffering because of my selfishness.”

Ryin didn’t fully understand, but he pushed on regardless.

“There are friends out there who need you. Will you help them?”

Poe looked up, and for a moment Ryin saw a glimmer of hope within, but then it crashed in on itself. “I can’t help you. I can’t do anything.”

Ryin was so surprised he gasped out loud. “What are you talking about? You are a god. You can do anything.”

Poe rolled up his sleeve, revealing something that had been hidden before, a golden shackle placed about his wrist.

“What is that?”

“When a god makes an oath, it is unbreakable, even by us. We call it the Binding, a magical contract we gods forged. It limits each of us to our own territory when we carved up the world among ourselves. The farther I intrude into the realm of another, the more my power is diminished.”

“So that is why the gods rarely fight openly.”

Poe nodded. “They send their children to fight their wars and settle their squabbles. Again, mortals pay the price for our sins. It has ever been so.”

Poe looked up, hopelessness in his eyes. “We cannot beat Valpurgeiss. No one can. Your war is doomed to failure. This whole world is doomed to failure.”

“Valpurgeiss? Who is Valpurgeiss?”

Poe looked down in shame. “He is the broken god. The outcast. He has returned to take his vengeance upon the rest of the gods, and, once again, you mortals are paying the price.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The void magic he now wields is more ancient than the world itself. Even the gods are all but powerless against it.”

“But you can still do something, can’t you?”

Poe looked down at the grave. His eyes seemed so exhausted. “It is the fate of all mortals to die. Whether they die tomorrow or in a year, what does it really matter?”

Ryin balled up his fist. “No, that is not what you said before. You said that you worked to help your friends. Even though you knew they would die, you made sure they were happy while they were alive. So, don’t tell me that it doesn’t matter to you. Don’t tell me that you don’t care. I’ve seen how hard you work, I’ve seen the energy you put into their happiness. It does matter to you.”

Ryin stepped in closer, and motioned to the grave. “It mattered to Claire.”

More tears fell down Poe’s face. “Yes, it did.”

“You made her happy. And seeing her happy made you happy, even if it was just for a little while. That is what you do. And I am asking you, no, I am begging you, please, lend us your strength to make others happy.”

Poe looked up, uncertain.

Ryin leaned in closer. “People are suffering. They are dying. Will you help them? Will you be a friend to them?”

Poe opened his old lips, his voice trembling. “All right. I will try. Bring me your treaty and I will sign it.”

* * *

“Please, I ask you not to do this,” Queen Forsythia said, barely able to force a whisper past her thin, cracked lips. “Don’t graft our trees together.”

High-Priest Oleander looked upon her tenderly as The Queen lay in her bed. All the color was gone from her now grey hair. Her face was as pale as a corpse. Her thin and frail body so wracked with pain, it shivered pitifully.

Too ill to hold court, her room felt barren and deserted now, only a handful of guards and servants standing amid the fading light.

“I’m…I’m sorry Athel,” Oleander strained to say. “But I just can’t stand by and watch you die. You’re too important to the forest…to all of us…even to me.”

The Queen’s impassive mask cracked, and she half sat up, her cold eyes became moist with tears. “Please, my sister’s madness could bleed into me. It could permanently corrupt my mind. I need my thoughts clear to win this war…to save the forest.”

Her strength failing her, the Queen fell back into her pillow, her eyes half closed as if in a nightmare. ”Please, I can bear this pain. Just a little longer, and we will be ready to launch the invasion.”

Bunni Bubbles shyly tapped her tiny toe against the floor. She looked around at the big people, worry on her face. She tugged on Oleander’s robes and looked up with her large dewy eyes. “She can’t play with me anymore. Can you make her better, please?”

The High Priestess stepped in close, sympathy in her eyes. For a second she moved to take Athel’s hand, but then pulled away. “We both know you won’t last that long. Please believe me when I say I take no joy in this. If I could think of another way, I would take it, but I must protect the forest. By order of the church, I am declaring a state of national emergency, and am taking steps to correct the danger. We will now travel to the edge of the forest to graft together your tree with your sister’s.”