Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (48 page)

“Don’t play your games with us. We all know you have no right to sit on this council,” Ryberts accused.

She pointed over at Dev’in. “He disagrees.”

“It doesn’t matter what rank you are given,” Jennat explained. “This is a place for true believers only.”

She gave a self-satisfied smile. “It should be perfectly obvious why I am here. You’ve got a rogue agent you can’t control. She knows your secret places, she knows your methods. With her shape shifting powers, she can remain undetected indefinitely, striking at you wherever and whenever it pleases her. If you don’t deal with her, she will bleed your operation dry.”

“So what would you suggest, oh great promoted one?” Marc asked dismissively.

Queen Sotol flicked the edge of the map with her sharp fingernails. “You have bigger problems. The gods have formed a plan to counter the Night of Rebirth.”

This brought complete silence to the room. Even Dev’in looked concerned. “How do you know this?”

“I spied on their meeting.”

The Kabalists looked at each other. “Meeting?”

The Queen laughed. “Oh, your people didn’t know the gods called a conclave? I guess there are things that slip past even the mighty Stone Council’s purview, after all.”

Marc’s feathers bristled. “You sickly little…”

“I know what the gods are planning,” she said, cutting him off. “And more importantly, I know how to counter it.”

This shocked all of them. They sat there anxiously, but she offered no explanation.

“Well, tell us!” Ryberts snapped.

She reached out and ran a sharp fingernail across his lips. “Now now, the mission I was given was to kill Athel Forsythia. This is a little side project I did on my own. You of all people should know the price of information.”

They couldn’t believe what they were hearing. “What are you asking?” Dev’in inquired.

She smiled devilishly. “Well, for starters, you’re going to do something for me.”

“You would blackmail us?” Blair laughed. “After we made you a ranking member of the Kabal? Oh, this is deliciously bitter.”

“Relax. What I am asking for will solve your problem for you, and my problem for me. It’s a win-win situation.”

“So tell us, leaf-witch.”

She reached into her pouch and took out a fresh pill, swallowing it down to force her body to stay awake. Inside of her, the real Spirea watched and waited, looking for any momentary lapse she could use to take over.

I can’t believe she’s taken it this far. She’s ravaging her own health just to stay awake. But, no matter. I can feel myself getting stronger than her. She’s weakening by the hour. I just have to be patient. Sooner or later she’ll fall asleep, and when she does…

“I want you to talk to Valpurgeiss, and make a request,” Queen Sotol explained.

“A request? No one makes requests of Valpurgeiss,” Blair explained.

“Then it pleases me to be the first. I want him to revoke Mandi’s void magic, and give it to me instead.”

The Kabalists were so galled, they could barely find words.

Dev’in gripped his wife’s wrist. “W-what?”

“Unthinkable!” Ryberts scoffed.

“And why not? She did betray the Kabal, after all. Why, when I came in here just now, you were desperate to find a way to stop her.”

Dev’in sloshed through the tar and walked up to the table. “I will not even consider it. She is one of the last shape shifters left. Father’s true people, made to inherit this world, before the false gods filled it with their abominations. What’s more, she is the last female shapeshifter.”

“I would think that for a race of shapeshifters, the concept of gender would be rather moot,” Tigera wondered aloud.

Queen Sotol gave him a sharp glance that told him to keep his mouth shut. He chose not to argue the point.

“Stripping her of her magic won’t kill her,” the Queen explained. “It will only remove her as a threat. In all likelihood, she’ll come crawling back to you for help, and you’ll have her again.”

She turned to the others. “And giving me her void magic will truly make me one of you, will it not? I’d be a true disciple of Valpurgeiss. I’d be under the same obligations as the rest of you are to make regular sacrifices to him, or risk his wrath. No longer would you have to worry about my loyalties.”

She circled around the council table like a predator. “You get your lost agent back, you stop the attacks on the Augilus flight web, you get the information I have about the gods, you get my plans to counter the gods, you get me as a true believer. There is no disadvantage to you in this.”

Dev’in and Marc looked at each other, their resolve waning.

Blair shook his head, impressed beyond words. “I think I’m in love with this woman.”

“I saw her first,” Tigera said with a wink.

Queen Sotol let the moment marinate, then spun around to leave. “Very well, then. If you are not interested in my offer, I shall return to my duties. Enjoy brainstorming ideas on how to counter the gods and how to stop Mandi.”

“Wait!”

She turned around, a superior smirk on her face.

A noise from above made Margaret stir in her chains. Her swollen eyes tried their best to open, but there was little light to receive in the bowels of the black cargo ship. And what light there was painted a desolate picture. The old and the infirm stacked like cordwood on the hard wooden shelves, packed so tightly they were unable to even roll over. Mewling wretches too weak to even vocalize their need for water, creating a weak death moan at the base of the throat. A dry gurgle, horrible to hear, terrible to witness.

The Stonemasters didn’t feed them, didn’t unchain them to use the lavatory. Here, amid the stream of black ships heading towards Boeth, was a level of suffering Margaret could never have imagined to exist.

Margaret recognized people from a dozen different League islands. Some of them wore prison uniforms; some of them wore hospital gowns. Those like herself, who possessed some skill in magic were given special treatment, beaten by the soldiers in black often enough that they remained too weak to pose a threat. They seemed to take particular relish in her, the only Stormcaller they had seen among the black ships. She had long since stopped protesting or demanding her rights as a Stormcaller be upheld. It only encouraged them to beat her more severely.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she was losing something. Something she never thought possible to lose until she realized it was slipping away. She wasn’t sure she wanted to live anymore.

She didn’t want to die. Death scared her as much as it had before; she just didn’t want to continue existing in pain. The only thing that stopped her was the oddly reassuring notion that when they arrived at Boeth, they all would die. The finality of the approaching deadline, was strangely comforting. A promise that her suffering would not last forever. Balanced by the fear of her impending doom, and her current agony pleading for release, she cursed her own flesh for having ever been born.

Margaret glanced over at the filthy navy patch on her shoulder. She hated to see it there. If she could have reached it, she would have torn it off.

“I was wrong, Athel. This isn’t just your war. It’s everyone’s war. I’m sorry. I was a fool.”

Another noise came from above, and a trio of Stonemasters came tumbling down the stairs. A black panther leapt down after them, slamming their heads into the putrid deck and knocking them out cold.

Margaret stared at the sight, suddenly wondering if she had finally lost her mind.

From the far end, a Himitsu guard ran up and leveled her rifle, but she was too slow. The panther leapt across the length of the cargo hold in a single stride. The gun discharged, punching a hole in the hull as the woman was slammed into a bulkhead.

A young girl came down the steps and peeked inside, covering her nose to keep out the wretched scent. “That’s all of them, big sis.”

The panther exploded, then reformed around a black skeleton into a tall blonde woman. Margaret’s jaw fell open.

“Let’s get these people unloaded,” Mandi ordered, pulling the woman’s coat off to cover herself. “Grab those shackles and lock up the guards.”

Molly tiptoed down into the layer of grime. “I don’t like this game.”

Margaret’s lips moved weakly. “It’s you.”

Mandi turned, her eyes scanning over her. “Wait, you seem kind of familiar, have I kidnapped you before?”

Margaret nodded. “Yes, you’re the one who kidnapped me during the Eriia attack on Stretis.”

Now it was Mandi’s turn to be surprised. “You’re one of them. Athel’s friend.”

Molly perked up at the mention of it. “Athel?”

Mandi looked around. “You’re a Stormcaller, what are you doing in here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. I thought you were dead. I thought you worked for them.”

Mandi chuckled and turned her hand into a scythed crab claw. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“She’s a not-so-bad guy now,” Molly beamed. “I taught her to be a good kitty.”

With a quick slash, Margaret’s chains were cut, and she fell to her knees. When she looked up, Mandi was standing over her, holding her hand out to help her up.

“I’m sorry.”

Margaret wasn’t sure she wanted to take her hand, but something inside of her decided to take the chance.

As she reached out, Mandi withdrew her hand and stepped backwards.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”

Mandi grabbed her temples and began thrashing about, screaming like a banshee.

“Big sis, what’s wrong?” Molly asked, running up, but Mandi was in too much agony to respond.

“Wha…what’s happening to me?” Mandi screamed, her hair turning to ash.

“What did you do to her?” Molly accused.

“I didn’t do anything.”

Mandi’s eyes melted in their sockets and she screamed louder than seemed remotely possible. Her body turned itself inside out, flesh bone and skin all churning as if she were being blended from within. Margaret and Molly covered their ears to muffle the horrible sound.

The writing mass of flesh that had once been Mandi went silent and collapsed to the floor. Molly ran up to her, yelling and crying.

“Sis! Sis, what’s wrong?”

Slowly, Mandi’s body reformed itself into the shape of a young woman, but she wasn’t moving. Molly shook her as best she could, but her eyes were rolled back into her head. She was barely breathing.

“What happened to her?” Margaret asked, bewildered.

Molly held Mandi close to her. “I don’t know. She’s…she’s hurt…real bad.”

They both heard a noise and looked over towards it. Some of the unconscious guards were beginning to stir.

Molly and Margaret looked at each other.

“What are we going to do?”

* * *

In the darkness of the cave, surrounded by sacrifices frozen in glassy stone, Queen Sotol held out her arms as the black fire bathed over her, soaking into every pore. It flowed like smoke into her nostrils and ears, and she breathed it in deeply until every drop was inside of her.

“The transference is complete,” Dev’in Overtin announced sadly as he stood by the stone throne, clutching his wife’s hand.

The other Kabalists looked at each other warily as The Queen opened her eyes, black flames swirling within.
Inside of her, the real Spirea fought to keep her sanity. Thousands of voices were pouring in around her, like an ocean of screaming victims. Children, mothers, fathers, all perched at the moment of death, clawing out at her for relief and revenge.

My mind…my mind is going blank. I can’t think…

Though she had no eyes of her own, Spirea fought to hide the horror from her view. Though she had no lungs, she struggled for breath. She was pressed in on every side, caught in a field of jagged, churning glass, twisting and cutting into every part of her.

I am being torn apart!

Blair stepped forward, his needle-like eyes licking over her body. “Now, you must be tested.”

“Tested?” Tigera asked as he watched from the sidelines.

“Yes.”

Blair held out his finger, on which sat a single, wriggling bit of black tar. Not even a full droplet, yet his flesh bubbled and boiled at the touch of it.

“Black Shakes,” The Queen recognized.

“If Valpurgeiss has accepted you, the black shakes will do no harm.”

She raised her raven eyebrow. “And if he hasn’t?”

Blair thought for a moment. “Then you’ll have the singularly unique experience of being dissolved from the inside out.”

Amid the torment of the storm of mewling souls, Spirea managed to force herself to focus. She saw the droplet being offered. And somehow, she knew exactly what it meant.

No. Don’t!.

Blair held out his finger, the droplet clinging to his black fingernail.

Spirea could feel her mind fracturing.
I’ve got to stop her.

Queen Sotol stepped closer.

NO!

Her soul trembling with pain, Spirea focused her strength and reached into The Queen’s arm as if it were a sleeve.

Queen Sotol reached out for the drop, but her other hand grabbed her by the wrist, blocking her.

Everyone looked on in confusion as she stood there, her two arms struggling against each other.

“Is…something the matter?” Blair wondered.

“Ii’ilaikara,” the Queen swore under her breath, fighting against her own body. “Yes, everything is fine.”

Tigera looked on knowingly.

She tried to step forward, but found her feet rooted in place. Unable to move any closer, the Queen instead opened her mouth and held out her tongue playfully.

NOOO!

This pleased Blair immensely. “Ah, I see.” Deftly, he held out the drop before her tongue.

NOOOOOOOO!

The drop fell into the Queen’s mouth and coiled down her sizzling throat. Her body erupted with power. Her crown and scepter burned away in the black fire, her raven hair lifting aloft as if she were underwater, and shifted into a stunning white mane.

Her eyes glowed with a black light, and she began to cackle wildly, elated with energy, drunk with power. She rose up into the air, hovering over everyone.

Her body took on a dark, purplish corpse light as she floated there, breathing heavily.

“Quite a heady tonic, isn’t it?” Blair appraised. Consuming the soul of another. Feeling all their fears, all their joys, all their triumphs, all their failures. All of life’s colors in a single, superlative moment.”

Queen Sotol chuckled darkly, running her fingers though her shimmering white hair. “You know nothing, I am used to it. I’ve done it many times. What excites me is what I can do with it.”

The Queen turned her light inward, and Spirea’s soul was ignited, burning in black fire. She rolled and shook, she writhed and contorted, her very essence cooking in the flames.

THE PAIN! I’M BURNING! I’M ROASTING ALIVE!

“It hurts doesn’t it, granddaughter?” The Queen whispered to Spirea. “You’re about to learn that pain in the body is limited, but the pain of the mind is endless and infinite.”

Spirea’s mind shattered, consumed in dark fires. She screamed so loud it rattled the very bones of their shared body.

“I will make you burn until the end of time.”

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The Queen opened her eyes and looked around. “I am free!” she cackled, grasping her hands together. “She’s gone.”

Blair raised an eyebrow. “Who’s gone?”

Queen Sotol floated down, coming to a rest in the waist-deep lake of black shakes. Her skin sizzled and bubbled at the touch of it.

“This…this is amazing,” she shouted, looking at her hands. “The power…the absolute power!”

Ryberts looked on her spitefully. “We’ve given you what you asked for. Now it is your turn.”

“Yes. A deal is a deal. We begin now.”

Queen Sotol grabbed the stone throne and spun it around, revealing the dusty skeleton that sat there, adorned with jewelry.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Overtin.”

* * *

Minister Nauru of Taldives had just lifted the sumptuous turkey leg up to his greasy lips when the arched doors to his hall exploded inwards on their hinges. Veiled dancing girls screamed in fright, dropping their tambourines and tearing their harem pants as they jumped out the bay windows and ducked beneath piles of silken cushions to protect themselves.

Dozens of soldiers dressed in black Himitsu uniforms entered, Admiral Roapes at the lead. Slaves and mistresses shrieked in terror at the sight of them.

Roapes adjusted his collar as if it chafed him. “Minister, by the power vested in me by the Stone Council, I and the navy have come to your island to relieve you of your surplus population.”

“S-surplus?”

“Criminals, the disabled, the infirm, the insane, and everyone over fifty years of age.”

“You can’t be serious.”

The Himitsu leveled their rifles at Nauru and cocked the hammers, ready to fire.

“But…your job is to protect the League.”

“I thought so as well, but this is the only way I can see my family again.”

Admiral Roapes looked down, disgusted with himself. “I am also instructed to inform you that you may feel free to include any political rivals or ethnic minorities it might please you to be rid of.”

As Minister Nauru began making a mental list, a satisfied grin crossed his lips.

* * *

Layla took the standard and hesitantly plunged it into the rubble that had once been called the Jewel of the South. The vast capital of Paxillus was now reduced to a smoldering wasteland, marked by Poe’s flag. The design was meant to be proud, but to all who saw it, it felt like a grave marker. The great library had been burned, the jade senate building flattened, the ivory pyramid of Ikkchit flung stone by stone into the mewling seas. Dead soldiers lay scattered everywhere, their lifeless hands reaching up to the sky, as if pleading.

Layla wiped a tear from her face and looked sadly at the other Hatronesians gathered about. They looked back at her with the same grim sentiment.

This was war.

They sorrowfully opened their wings and flew back towards the glowing cyclone of rage that hung just offshore. Inside Poe’s writhing form, the remnants of his temple spun about, sending out a light that no longer comforted them to see.

“Prepare all attack wings for the next assault,” came Poe’s wrathful voice shaking the very air.

“Next assault?” Layla asked in disbelief.

“Yes, next we move on to Tirrak. And from there, Iso. And from there, on again, until the entire Alliance is a barren husk.”

The Hatronesians all looked at each other in terror. A few wept openly.

“We have a prisoner…” Layla began.

“You were commanded to take no prisoners!”

The flock of Hatronesians scattered at the power in his voice, then reformed.

“We did not take her prisoner,” Layla explained, trying to be brave. “She turned herself in.”

The storm of rage that was once Poe began to swirl a little less chaotically. “Explain.”

Layla flew aside to make room, and Ellie was brought forward.

* * *

Mina tried as best she could to ignore the squabbling priestesses and scholars as she played with Ash in his crib. It had been set up inside the knot, just close enough for the baby’s presence to reveal the men’s doorway, but far enough away so as not to be a nuisance. Her long white tail swished about grumpily as she handed the infant a rattle, singing to him softly, her notes creating a nearly transparent ball of sound that the baby happily swatted. Black shrouds had been hung to prevent Mina from viewing anything sacred, but while her vision could be blocked, nothing could prevent her keen hearing from picking up every whispered comment and gesture the women made as they poured over the glowing runic symbols on the archways.