Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (43 page)

“Please let me out,” he yelled hoarsely, banging his swollen fist against the door. “I need to eat. I need to use the bathroom…Please!”

A gate folded open and Setsuna stepped through, looking around in concern.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he coughed. “You came for me.”

“Is Dwale here?”

“Wha?”

“Is Dwale on the ship?” she pressed.

“What? No.”

“Bogs!”

She stepped back through her gate and vanished.

Dr. Griffin looked around. “HEY!”

* * *

Back in the manor, Privet managed to find a shirt in the dark and threw it on as Setsuna reemerged.

“He’s not there.”

“Well, where did he go?”

“He couldn’t have gone too far, without those eyes, he can’t see.”

“Could he have chartered a ferry?”

Privet threw open the closet and pulled open the safe hidden beneath the shoe racks, where he kept his share of the gemstones from the federal treasury.

“No, the money’s all still here.”

Setsuna’s head came up. “The portal.”

“Wha?”

“The aqueduct portal in the city leads straight back to the capital of Wysteria.”

“Could he have gotten that far? I have to imagine it’d be hard to get all the way to the city from here.”

“He wouldn’t have to; the main aqueduct begins just half a mile from here at the glacier lake. All he’d have to do is jump in and ride the current.”

Privet nodded. It sounded like something Dwale would attempt. “We’ve got to check.”

Setsuna’s hands glowed. “Okay, I’m on it.”

A gateway opened up on the floor beneath Privet’s feet.

“Wait, NO.”

But it was too late. He fell down, splashing into freezing water, being drawn along by a strong current. The water crashed over him, flipping him over as he flailed about, grasping for a hand-hold, gasping for air.

He was outside in the crisp mountain air. His elbow struck one stone wall of the aqueduct, and his knee struck the other.

As he tumbled, Setsuna appeared, sprinting along the edge of the channel, barely keeping up with him as the two sped through the mountainside.

“You slack-jawed idiot!” he gasped, a wave crashing down over his head. “You did that on purpose.”

She jumped over a decorative statue of Chert as she ran. “No I didn’t. You were supposed to land on that ledge back there.”

“Well, you missed,” he shouted, half drowning as the water carried him through a tunnel then out the other side.

“Sometimes the full moon shifts my gates a bit.”

“You made that up!”

“No, I didn’t.”

Trees and rocks zipped past them, the mountain grasses a blur of motion. Privet tried to get up or get out, but a thin layer of something slick coated the floor of the canal. Were he stationary, he might have been able to eventually find his feet, but moving along at this speed, somersaulting in the current, it beguiled every attempt he made.

Setsuna jumped up over a passing tree branch, then landed again, her arms held back like a diving hawk as she ran. “You know, this is fun. I can’t believe we didn’t try this earlier.”

Privet spat out a mouthful of liquid and tried to clear the water off his face. “If it’s so fun, why don’t you jump in?”

“Are you crazy? This skirt is Lahitian velvet. You get it wet, the fabric is ruined.”

Unable to see, the water slammed him against one edge. Instinctively, he reached his arm up to grab the top lip and slow himself, but when he clamped down into what he thought was the stone, a squishy ankle found his palm.

Setsuna squealed like a child, and tripped over herself, splashing down into the aqueduct with him.

“Bogs and frogs!” she screamed as she surfaced, soaked to the bone. “You did that on purpose!”

“No, I didn’t,” he shouted back, tumbling end over end.

“Yes you did. You pretend it’s an accident, but it was your plan all along.”

“Now you know what it feels like.”

“Ahhhh!”

Setsuna splashed him with a face full of water, for all the good it did. He was so waterlogged, it was like spitting on a fish. Already her mascara was running down her chin, her blush melting off her cheeks.

Street lanterns whipped by, and Privet caught a quick glimpse of the very surprised late night store owners, and at least one pointing and cheering child, before the water drew them off the end of the aqueduct and into the swirling gate.

They slapped down into a large body of water, the cold waters of Ronesia mixing in with the warmer waters of the reservoir.

Privet surfaced first, half-drowned and fully enraged. The stars were different here, the enormous trees rising up like black canyon walls, and Milia’s constellation in ascendance told him right away they were back on Wysteria.

Setsuna surfaced second, looking so much like a melting porcelain doll that he could not help but laugh at her.

“Shut up,” she pouted, splashing him again.

* * *

Privet and Setsuna found Dwale exactly where they hoped they would not find him. Chained by an iron collar to the front porch of a familiar Suidra household. The nice clothes he had been wearing confiscated and replaced with rags. A band of poisonous vine wrapped around his sightless eyes, the flesh where they touched already growing red and bloodied. He stood there, singing in his immaculate voice. He sang the Ballad of Spring, a song praising Milia’s daughters, and calling upon the heavens to bless women with long life and peace.

Madam Freesia came out, dripping in new expensive jewelry, and kicked him in the small of the back, ordering him to remain on his knees in her presence. A trio of sickly young boys watched from the windowsill, wearing nothing but soiled diapers. Barely able to walk, they already were learning their place in this world.

At her insistence, Dwale sang Auria Demp’ii. His lovely voice rose up, like vibrant color amid the drab surroundings. A prayer in the voice of an angel, pleading for the happiness of all women.

Madam Freesia sat there, smug satisfaction on her face, as she puffed her cigar and listened to him sing.

“I’ll never let you out of my sight again,” she said darkly.

Privet lowered his spyglass, no longer able to stand the sight of it all from the branch they perched on some distance away. Dropping his head, he wished he could cry. In that moment, he wanted to cry more than he could ever recall wanting to. But years of training held him fast. The scars from his own years of abuse still burned and they seemed just as strong as his feelings for his brother. In the end, they cancelled each other out. So instead he only knelt there, breathing quietly, water dripping off his still-wet hair.

Even Setsuna was affected, her long ears drooping mournfully. “I don’t understand,” she admitted. “Why? Why would he go back to her?”

“He’s only doing what he believes to be right,” Privet strained, barely able to speak.

She flicked her wrist and fanned out five throwing knives. “Let’s steal him back, I can take her easy.”

Privet pointed down to where her bare feet touched the wood. “The trees are wary of you now. Even I can feel it. The instant you tried, you’d be killed where you stood.”

Setsuna looked around at the trees ominously. She pulled the hand away she had been using to lean against the trunk, as if she suddenly feared being burned.

“Besides,” Privet added. “We should respect his wishes.”

“Hang his bloody wishes. He obviously doesn’t know what’s best for him.”

“No, I won’t make that mistake again. He’s made his decision.”

Privet put away his spyglass. He stood up and walked away resolutely.

“And so have I.”

Spirea stirred and opened her eyes. The silken canopy of her bed was dimly visible; the salty taste in the air, the steady rocking of the warship, a smoldering glow from the porthole heralding the arrival of dawn soon.

It was the most mundane of things, but for her, it was earth-shattering.

She was looking out through her own eyes, not just watching from behind them. She thought to look to the side and her eyes moved, spying the trio of empty wine bottles lying beside her. She could feel her chest rising and falling steadily, and when she held her breath, it stopped.

I’m…in my body?

She thought to move her arm, and it actually moved. The half-filled wine glass she had been holding fell free and clattered to the floor. She held her fingers up before her face, and became so excited she nearly yelled out for joy.

Is she gone?

Her heart raced from the excitement, and that made the dark force within her stir. Spirea could feel it all around her. A powerful, thirsting presence, slumbering within her at the edge of unconsciousness. Fearing she might wake it up, she controlled her breathing, and forced her heart rate to slow. How long would this last? She had no idea.

Frantically, she tried to think.

I…I didn’t expect this. I don’t have anything prepared. No plan. What should I do? Maybe…maybe I should try and call for someone?

That thought imploded in on itself as soon as she had it.

That’s right…I don’t have a family. They’re all dead. And, even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t want me anyway. I was never a real person to them, just a vessel. A temporary thing to be replaced. Even as a child, I can remember my mother watching me in that horrible way, like she was just waiting for me to disappear and the real thing to take my place.

In that moment, despair crept back into her heart. She was alone. There wasn’t a single place in the whole world she could go. The closest thing she ever had to a friend was Athel Forsythia, and she had betrayed her. She took Alder away from her.

Alder.

The thought of him send her mind racing.

I’ve watched every planning session, I’ve listened in on every conversation Queen Sotol’s had. I know what she is planning. Alder and the others, they don’t know there is a traitor on the council. If I don’t tell them, they’ll all be killed. Alder will be killed.

She felt her heart beating faster, and she exerted all her will to steady it. If the Dirgina awoke, she knew she would lose control again.

I’ve got to get a message to them. I’ve got to warn Alder. They need to know, or they are going to lose the war. But, how can I tell them? That’s it! The Seawolf has a master crystal array. I can send them a message, even if they don’t have one. But it’s sealed. Do I remember the unlocking words? Yes, at least I think so. I’ve heard myself say it a hundred times. Oh, why didn’t I pay closer attention? Okay, calm down. Just, carefully, move your legs…

Spirea’s legs kicked out, knocking the bed curtain free. Uneasily, unsteadily, she pulled herself up onto wobbly limbs, clinging to the bedpost to keep from falling over. It had been so long since she had a body, she couldn’t recall how to make it do what she wanted.

Like a puppet with tangled strings, she teetered her way to the door of her cabin, the pair of enormous fly traps looking at her oddly as she gripped the handle and yanked it open.

She stumbled past some guards, who gave her some very strange looks as she breathed out slurred excuses, making her way as best she could manage towards the communications room.

The dead hardwood was rough against her feet, the silk nightgown smooth against her back. Every sound, every sensation was bright and vibrant. Every cell in her body felt completely alive. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt like she was part of this world again, not just some haunting phantasm. Try as she might, she could not contain how much it thrilled her, and the more excited she got, the more the darkness within her stirred.

No, calm down, you’re almost there.

Reaching the sealed room, the guards opened the heavy steel doors and let her pass. Inside, she reached out and tapped the rune for the crystal array. It hissed to life, unfolding like knives, its crystal tubes spreading out like a peacock, dark crackles of energy snapping out into the early morning air.

The controls remained concealed, awaiting the voice and pass-phrase that Queen Sotol had chosen.

“Desesperati muerary pertiarasa mentiraya.”

The dark crystal of the array responded by shifting its shape, but instead of the controls, a minute glass appeared, dark grains draining from the top, and a plate with an inscribed question. “What is the price of immortality?”

Blast. I forgot about this. She added a second layer of security last week after Tigera overheard her sending a message. Ahh, I wasn’t paying attention.

Spirea watched in horror as the minute glass emptied. She knew if she didn’t give the correct answer, the alarm would sound.

Ahh, why did this happen? I don’t know the answer.

She began to panic. The beast within her stirred powerfully.

No, I have to do something. Think. What can you do?

A dangerous idea occurred to her. Many times the dirgina had probed into her mind to torment her, maybe she could use that connection to search through its mind as well.

But…it might wake up.

Spirea watched the glass emptying, and made her decision. Closing her eyes, she pushed inward, touching the mind of the demon, then easing her way inside.

The experience was like getting punched in the gut. It wasn’t a person; it was more like an insatiable appetite, a primal force, thirsting for power, lusting for control, hungering for dominance. And yet, it was built from her. It hated what she hated, it feared what she feared. It was utterly alien, and yet it was shockingly familiar. All her jealousy for Athel and all her longing for Alder was reflected in it, a hundred times brighter. As she touched its mind, it was so like her, she was instantly overcome with guilt.

All this suffering is my fault. Queen Sotol is merely acting out my own inner desires! Is this what I really am inside? Am I a monster in my heart?

Spirea broke away and dropped her head, vomiting painfully against the side of the array. Her invasion disturbed the darkness within her and it awoke, enraged at what it found.

“What are you doing?” a dark voice passed from her lips.

No, not yet, I have to warn them!

Spirea grabbed the minute glass as the last few grains passed through the choke. Her lips fought against her, her throat resisted, her lungs opposed.

“The price of immortality,” she struggled, the muscles in her face contorting painfully, “is to be alone.”

The array chirped in the affirmative and reshaped itself into the controls. As she reached out for the activation rune, she felt claws moving inside her arm and into her fingers, as if she was a glove being donned from within.

No, I’ve got to warn them!

“How dare you!” the voice hissed from her throat.

Spirea felt taloned toes slipping into her feet from the inside.

No, please, I’m almost there.

“You hateful little speck, how dare you defy me!”

Her legs went numb and she fell to her knees, her body was wrenched from within, throwing itself back and forth, like a cocoon ready to burst.

Spirea reached out with a trembling hand, every muscle in her arm cramping, her fingers contorting into agonized, wretched shapes.

I’ve got to save Alder…

Her hand slowed, hovering just an inch above the rune as it writhed.

“This body belongs to me! ME!”

I’m right there…MOVE, PLEASE MOVE!”

Her fingers twisted into a fist and pulled back away.

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The raven-haired woman fell to the ground, convulsing and screaming, her body wracked from within. Then, she suddenly stilled and rose up on her hands, panting like a wild beast.

“Spirea Sotol,” the Queen hissed, “I’m going to find a way to destroy you.”

* * *

Lady Bursage squinted, her head turned to the side as she listened, her icy white hair held back in a clasp, accentuating the point to her ears. The navy officers who didn’t know her assumed it was because she was becoming hard of hearing in her old age. The Wysterians who knew her, knew better. Her hearing was flawless, and although she had lived for a century and a half, she had a good fifty years of life left in her. No, she looked that way because she saw the world as an endless parade of people trying to take advantage of her. She combed through every word, looking for deception, she scoured over every invitation, searching for a trap.

And there were few people whose words and actions she scrutinized as closely as she did the Forsythians.

“So, what you are asking me is to do your job for you,” Madam Bursage accused, cutting off the eloquent explanation.

Queen Forsythia was as calm and patient as ever. “The Buckthorns have convinced many of their branch families to remove themselves from the link, and the harmony of the forest is suffering for it. Your family has a long and distinguished…”

“If you cannot do something as simple as make them to take their boots off, then what business do you have being on the throne in the first place?”

Even some of the courtiers balked at that remark. Even Braihmin families had limits when it came to speaking their minds in open court.

“Forcing them would undermine the whole purpose of the link,” the Queen reminded her. “We join our voices together out of trust and camaraderie. Compulsion is anathema to the very nature of the link. The forest asks your assistance. You have their ear and command their respect. Will you help your forest?”

“You want them to respect you? Then try respecting tradition for once.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Ours! Like that, for example.”

Madam Bursage pointed a knobby finger at Captain Tallia as she stood at her post behind the throne. It surprised everyone, though none so much as Tallia herself, who had not planned on being the center of attention.

The Queen tilted her head. “Could you explain?”

“It is not proper for that to retain a post fit for a woman.”

Captain Tallia unfolded her arms. “I beg your pardon?”

Madam Bursage ignored her completely, as if they were discussing a mural painted on the wall. “Look at her, look at that thing she has grafted onto herself. She’s not one of us anymore, she’s a…freak.”

Most of the courtiers agreed. They whispered and pointed at Tallia’s prosthetic arm.

The Queen tapped her staff, moving the focus back to her. “May I remind everyone that Captain Tallia led our Treesingers in defense of this forest during the invasion. She is one of our greatest and most loyal warriors, trusted with protecting the throne itself. She lost her Ma’iltri’ia because her duties required her to stay at her post when her family’s grove was crushed beneath a falling ironclad. She has sacrificed too much to have her worthiness questioned by anyone here. All of us owe our lives to her.”

Madam Bursage scoffed. “No, she was those things. She is now…something else.”

Even Nikki refused to hold her tongue at that one. “How can you Wysterians treat your champions with such distrust?”

Captain Tallia raised her brass hand. “It is all right. I do not need anyone to speak for me, I can speak for myself.”

She stepped down from the pedestal, so she could look at Madam Bursage face to face. She looked around at the others, fearless before their hateful gazes. The navy officers could not understand what was happening. “During the first battle of Wysteria…”

“I do not have to listen to you,” Bursage interrupted. “You’re not even a person anymore. You’re treeless. You lost your soul in the fires, and now you are an empty husk, a corpse that forgot to lie down and turn into compost.”

Captain Tallia’s eyes showed how much it hurt her to hear that, but her back remained straight, and she did not look away. “You don’t hate me,” she stated firmly.

“Pffft, I don’t?”

“No, you fear me.”

Several of the courtiers laughed. “Why would I fear you?” Bursage retorted.

“You look at me, and you see what would happen to you if you lost your own tree.”

This declaration stunned the whole courtroom into silence.

“Well, you are right to be afraid,” Tallia said, raising her voice so all could hear. “Losing your Ma’iltri’ia is like having every nerve in your body pulled out by the roots. Everything that was once good and green inside of you gone forever, leaving you groping around in a world devoid of light and sound, a haunting vacuum, like a dark dream you can’t wake up from. It’s excruciating. I died that day! It is something I hope you never have to go through. Many women are treeless after the fires, and you ignore their pain because you can’t sense it though the forest anymore. Like the men, you avert your eyes and pretend they can’t feel pain because you can’t personally feel it. You strip them of their personhood and consider them a thing, but I am here to tell you that we do feel pain, and it is made a thousand times worse by the women who once called us sisters treating us like husks.”

Many of the women lowered their eyes in shame. Madam Bursage was unmoved.

Captain Tallia held up her brass hand and flexed the fingers, the tiny pistols hissing as she did so. “Why did I allow Lliun to be grafted to me? Because I wanted to protect people. People like you, Lady Bursage, so that you would not have to experience the loss that I have suffered. You may hate me, but I swear by Milia’s holy roots, I will stand between your tree and the fires when they come. And I will rush into those same fires to pull your daughters out of them whole. I ask for neither your gratitude nor your praise. I only ask you to stand aside and let me do my job, you thankless wretch!”

Madam Bursage’s face twisted with rage. “How…how dare you? I have never been so insulted.”