Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (52 page)

Athel turned around, shame on her face. “If that were truly her will, then I would refuse to be a part of it.”

Oleander’s eyes filled with disappointment. “And that is why we can never be friends. In your heart, Milia’s will is no longer your top priority. You’ve become unfit for the throne.”

Athel defiantly walked over to the vanity and picked up her crown.

“It’s this husband of yours, isn’t it?” Oleander called to her. “The one who wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. He’s the one who changed you. Who corrupted you.”

Athel knew she should feel ashamed at what she had just admitted. She knew she should feel terrible. But, somehow, as she looked at Alder, all those feelings evaporated.

“Yes, he did,” she said proudly. “He did change me, even more than becoming queen did.”

“What did he do? What argument did he use? How did he take our hero and turn her against us?”

“He didn’t use any argument. He just loved me so completely that I changed. I became a better person.”

Athel turned around. “I hope it happens to you someday. So that you can see how callous you are. The men are inhabitants of this forest too, you know? They are part of the forest, and as Queen, it is my duty to care for them.”

She looked the High Priestess squarely in the eye. “Will you help your forest save its men?”

Athel’s gaze was powerful, so self-assured and confident, so full of terrible majesty, that Oleander had to turn away. “My duty is to maintain the current order. I have no right to change or question it. To do so would be heresy.”

Athel stepped in closer. “I am not against you, Kerria. I am on your side. Our side. I am on the side of the inhabitants of the forest.”

Athel looked around, and for the first time, she understood why the men looked at the trees so warily. “After what we learned today, can we really be certain Milia is on our side?”

“Please don’t blaspheme,” Oleander whispered.
Athel wrapped her staff in a sheet to keep herself from touching it, and slung it across her back. “I’m going now. Are you going to stop me?”

Oleander looked up mournfully. “I’ll wait until after the forum. You’ll have this one chance to say your peace and convince the other women. But after that, it will be my duty to take you into custody as a heretic.”

Athel’s expression became tender. “Thank you, Kerria. You have a good heart.”

The High Priestess redonned her miter and straightened her robes. “Goodbye, Athel Forsythia. The next time we meet, we will be enemies.”

Queen Forsythia took her crown and placed it on her brow. “Goodbye, Kerria Oleander. No matter what happens, I will pray for your safety.”

“To whom?”

The question made the Queen pause. “To Milia. My Milia. The one I worship. The one who wants the travesty and suffering of her sons to end.”

* * *

On a small islet on the indigo sea, little more than a tall rocky spit rising up out of the waters, a single cluster of palm trees clung to life amid the salty air.

Atop the tallest of the trees, a little sea-thrush had perched, pecking away at the bark for beetles. It looked up for a moment, regarding with some interest the odd sight of a black airship drifting towards the islet. It didn’t really sail, or rather it didn’t sail correctly. It cantered sideways, blown by the wind, its ill-trimmed sails flapping loudly and startling the bird enough to force it aloft.

The black airship careened into the side of the rock, half impaling itself, half grinding to a halt.

Several more startled birds flew away as Molly ran up to the side of the gunwhale and looked over at the damaged prow.

“You hit the thing,” she called out.

“I know I hit the thing,” a voice came back.

The cargo ramp extended down, and a gaggle of chained Stonemasters were forced out of the ship at spear point. Margaret came out holding the spear, her hands shaking so much the tip wobbled about. She gave a couple of good pokes at them to show she meant business, but only managed to illustrate that she clearly had no idea how to use a spear.

“Get out, all of you,” she threatened, pulling a hand away to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“We’re already out,” one of them observed wearily, fighting against his chains.

“Oh yeah…uh…If you try anything…I’ll expand the air inside you and burst your lungs inside your chest!”

She wiggled her fingers at them menacingly.

The Stonemasters backed away as the ramp was retracted, leaving them marooned.

“What are we supposed to eat?” one of them complained.

“Oh, here.” Margaret reached into her pocket and tossed something to them. It landed at their feet.

The ramp closed, and Margaret changed the direction of the wind, tearing the black ship free of the rock, and blowing it clear of the island.

The Stonemasters kicked at the sand revealing the thing she had thrown.

It was a single piece of wrapped candy.

“Can you really do that?” Molly asked, running up to Margaret as she latched the cargo doors closed.

“Do what?”

“Can you really make their lungs explode?”

“I dunno, I’ve never tried. How would you even practice something like that?”

Molly looked over at the hole in the hull, and became concerned. “So, what do we do now? Sis said we should find Athel if something happened to her.”

Margaret looked around at the racks of sick and injured people that had up until recently been her cell mates. She looked over at Mandi, lying unconscious on a pile of blankets Molly had made for her. An unused dish of water at her side.

“We will, but first, we need to get these people somewhere safe,” Margaret said, summoning up a breeze that pushed the listing airship to the north-east.

* * *

Queen Forsythia stepped up the dais at the center of the forum. Row upon row of expectant matrons rose up around her like a great dish. A million eyes scrutinized her every move, a half million tongues whispered rumors about what she would say. A half million hearts thrummed with anxiety.

Behind her calm, icy exterior, Athel was a storm of emotions.

Everything will be decided in the next five minutes. The future of the forest, the future of the men, the future of my reign. Alder’s future, the war, the whole world. Everything rides on this one thing. Can I really do this?

She forced her heart to calm down, and thought of her husband, lying in his bed.

I can do this. I have to do this. For Alder.

At the base of the stairs, Mina and Evere stood with her guards, holding her sons and cheering her on as best they could. Odger hid beneath a table, terrified at the crowd. Nikki was there too, unsure of what to make of all this. Privet did something he hadn’t done since he was a boy. He lowered his head and offered a silent prayer.

Goddess, I know you hate me, and you know what? I hate you too. But this isn’t about me right now. Please, if you can hear me, please give Athel strength.

Queen Forsythia glided to the center, a picture of poise and elegance, her eyes a graceful, dispassionate mask. Inscrutable, unwavering, unyielding, yet possessing a mother’s kindness.

To many present, it felt like they were being addressed by Milia herself.

She held her arms out and spoke. Even at this distance, her voice carried to all without diminishing. It felt like the very wood of the trees reverberated with it, passing it along for all to hear. Yet she held no staff, used no magic. The trees responded to her because she was their Queen. She was a part of them, and they a part of her.

“Women of Wysteria. I expect many of you have come here expecting me to speak on the water crisis we are currently facing. But that debate will have to wait for a moment. I come here to you today because we have learned something that will change forever what we know about our forest and our island.

“We are the women of the forest. We are the forest, and the forest endures. Empires rise and fall, ice ages come and go, but the forest remains. So, what is our secret? What makes the forest eternal, when all else falls to ruin and rot? What allows the forest to overcome the breaking of time? Is it because the forest remains unchanged? No. The mountains are stubborn and unyielding, which is why they erode over time from wind and water. The forest outlasts even the highest mountains, and why? Because the forest can change, and it does change.

“Our trees shed their leaves in the fall to protect themselves from the injury of frost. They grow lush in the spring to take advantage of the extra water and sunlight. In times of drought, they hold their water deep in their roots and sleep, awaiting the rains that will wake them. Even consumed in fire they are unvanquished, their cones exploding in the heat to fling their seeds over the flames and into the areas already burned, where they can take root in the now-fertile ash and soil.

“The forest is strong because it changes with the seasons. And now, we find ourselves on the edge of a new season.”

The Queen took a deep calming breath.

“We have discovered that in ages past our men wielded magic of their own. Not in opposition to us, but in compliment with us. Not as our enemies, but as our companions and allies. We have learned that our magic as we currently know it is incomplete without theirs, and it is killing them. Our magic is shortening the lives of our fathers and brothers, our husbands and our sons. They are dying because of us.”

The Queen paused to let the point sink in.

“The old dogmas of the past are no longer suited to these conditions. So, what are we to do? Do we cling to them as a badger does a sinking log, to drown along with them? Or do we follow the wisdom of the forest, and find a new way?

“My sisters, we must work together to create a new forest, one where the lives we create do not come at the cost of another. We must find a way to restore the magic our men once had. We must change; not just to survive, but because it is the right thing to do.

“I am here to announce that I am making it a primary goal of the forest to discover a way to restore its magic to the way it is supposed to be, to the way I believe Milia wishes it to be—a way to reforge the cycle and enrich us all. I ask you all to be a part of this just and sacred endeavor. Will you help your forest?”

The Queen lowered her arms and glided gracefully away. As she descended the steps of the dais, the group waiting for her could not contain their excitement.

“That was amazing, lass,” Evere cheered, slapping her on the back. “You did it!”

“Incredible, my Queen,” Talliun praised. “I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“You are so amazing,” Rachael tittered, bouncing up and down in her heels.

The Queen placed her hand over her heart. “I thought I could do it. I thought they would listen. I was so sure it would work…it never even occurred to me that…”

Mina clapped her hands happily. “What are you talking about? You changed everything, sweetie.”

A single tear rolled down the Queen’s cheek.

“No, I failed.”

Nikki was confused. “But, I heard your speech, it was amazing. Surely…”

The Queen shook her head. “You cannot sense them through the trees like I can.”

She turned to Nikki and grabbed her by the arm. “We have to get every foreigner off the island. Right now. This very hour. Every navy person, every delegate. Everyone.”

Nikki went pale. “What? We can’t. We won’t be ready for another week, and even that was a stretch.”

“There’s no time. They’re not safe here anymore.”

Privet looked around ominously. “Why?”

The Queen lowered her head in defeat. “Because half the women of this island just decided to betray me.”

Inside Queen Sotol, Spirea slowly faded back into existence. The pain that had been inflicted upon her was indescribable. She had not endured it. Not even for a moment. It had utterly consumed her. It had completely overpowered her will and resolve the first moment it hit, burned out entirely her ability to think, to reason, to feel anything but pain, then left her to boil in utter helplessness. Even now, she was not free of it. Her mind could not help but remember and replicate the sensation. An agony without end, even during this dreadful calm as she awaited the next bout of torture. Already there was forming a coldness in her heart, a coldness that would shiver even under the hottest sun, a coldness in her soul that somehow she knew would never go away again.

“Oh, back so soon, are we? That was much quicker than expected,” came the cruel voice of the Queen.

Queen Sotol reached down into the lake of tar and teased up three drops of black shakes on her fingertips. Gingerly, she held them out before her tongue in anticipation.

“Let’s make sure you stay gone for a while this time. We can’t have you interfering on today of all days.”

Wait….no…please…

Queen Sotol slurped down the drops, and Spirea’s soul burst into flames once more.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Queen Sotol cackled maniacally as she wiped off her chin. She spun around in the stone throne that had once been the perch of Dev’in’s wife, her shimmering white hair floating around her.

With a wave of her hand, the black tar parted, giving Tigera a safe pathway to walk out to her and set up their chessboard. His fearlessness impressed her once more. The slightest touch of the stuff would kill him, yet he strolled like a man in a park, without a care in the world. As her raven eyes looked over his strong, tanned body, she resolved to take him to her bedchamber when this was all over.

With a flick of her finger, seven large spherical droplets of tar rose up before her. The dim ripples of tortured expressions gave way to projected images, as each of the Kabal leaders indicated that they could hear her.

“Is everyone in position?”

They all nodded.

Behind her throne, Dev’in stood warily, picking at his skin.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the Queen began, “we are about to play a great game. At stake, the future of this world.”

The Kabal leaders looked at each other nervously.

“…Our opponent is Athel Forsythia….”

The Queen raised her palm, and a larger sphere of blackness arose, displaying the royal tree of Wysteria.

“…The board is set, the pieces are in place…”

She lazily reached over and picked up one of her pawns, slamming it into place.

“…Let the game begin.”

* * *

King Richardi Dolan of Madaringa leaned his head back and allowed Rachael to feed him a bushel of grapes as he relaxed across the smooth arm of the chaise lounge.

“I’m pretty sure these aren’t part of my C&C duties,” she complained as she twisted one off and placed it against his wiry lips.

“Oh nonsense,” he cooed, his mouth full of masticated berry. “Keeping your ambassadors happy is the highest priority of Alliance Command.”

“But why do I have to dress like this?” she asked, grabbing the hem of the nurse costume she was wearing.

“Because it makes me happy,” he said, smoothing out his pencil mustache.

Rachael placed her face in her well-manicured hand. “Why does it always end up like this? I was top of my class, for fraps’ sake.”

The doors to the ambassadorial wing flew open, and Nikki ran in, completely out of breath.

“We’ve got to get you guys off the island,” she panted, leaning against the wall for support.

The delegates all looked at each other. “What? Why? There’s still a week before…”

The royal tree rocked to one side, tossing place settings, food, and people against the far wall.

Nikki ended up upside down beneath Regent Kowless. “That’s why.”

The Alliance leaders picked themselves up and ran over towards the balcony.

“What’s going on?” Proconsul Neriise asked, nearly tripping over his long mustache.

“There’s been a coup.”

“A coup? When?”

“About ten minutes ago, at the end of the Queen’s address to the forum.”

Kahn Alakaneezer was impressed. “Boy, the women around here don’t waste any time, do they?”

Nikki stopped at the railing and looked down, her eyes growing wide. “Wait…that isn’t the women.”

They all looked over. At the base of the royal tree was a sea of men, chanting together in their native tongue. A low, throaty melancholy sound. A cry for justice, a cry for hope. All who heard it could not help but feel moved by it. All of them had drawn the mark of ii’ainta on their cheeks. Many of them held a single candle in their hands. It was like a river of light flowing towards them from all directions.

“It’s the Wysterian men,” Nikki said ominously.

Rachael minced up as best she could in the high heels she was wearing. “The men? How many?”

King Issha flicked out his long reptilian tongue as he looked out at the endless throng. “It looks like…all of them.”

“So many…” Rachael marveled. “They must outnumber the women ten to one.”

Tulip and Veronica Forsythia ran up, staffs in hand. “We have orders from Captai…I mean, Talliun. The guards will take care of the riot.”

“No, didn’t you hear the Queen? You can’t disperse them with your magic.”

“Well, what are we supposed to use? Profanity?”

“Just bar and lock the gates.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Nikki jumped up on an overturned buffet table. “We must have all Alliance personnel load up for immediate departure.”

“But…

Nikki pointed out the window at a trio of navy airships lazily docked amid the highest branches of a nearby Nallorn tree. “In a few minutes, those trees are going to start smashing the fleet to pieces.”

The delegates looked around in horror.

“Go, mount up as fast as you can. Rachael, grab some people, make sure the light carriers get loaded up.”

Rachael tore off her nurse’s cap. “Yes, right away.”

As the delegates scattered, sending their attachés in all directions, the men below ceased their chanting. The silence it left behind was intimidating in its strength.

Already, Treesingers were arriving from all directions, setting up a thin line of women around the enormous crowd of men.

The crowd of men parted, and Akar walked to the front, his brand of ii’ainta displayed proudly on his cheek.

“Akar, what is the meaning of this?” Lady Buckthorn asked, enraged.

“Surely we have made our meaning plain,” he responded, motioning to the other men of the Buckthorn family.

She bristled. “And after I took you in to my house…”

“You bought me,” he corrected. “You purchased me. I was no more a part of your family than a vase or a shelf.”

While she seethed, he turned his attention to those inside the royal tree.

“My name is Akar,” he said confidently, his deep voice easily carrying up to the balcony. “I speak for the men of the forest, by a vote taken by our own hands. I seek an audience with the young queen, so that she may hear our grievances and address them.”

Nikki leaned over and shouted back. “You would demand this by force?”

“We did not come here to incite violence,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the line of women nervously drawing closer. “If there is to be any violence, it will come from you women, not us.”

Lady Bursage shoved her way past the other Treesingers. “Be silent, you weevil. “You have no standing here. You have nothing we want. You have no right to resist us.”

Akar grinned confidently. “I think you will find that we do.”

The Treesingers looked at each other warily.

Akar scampered up a statue of Milia, perching himself disrespectfully atop her head. “At this very moment, transport ships have been dispatched at our request from the base on Mertrion. They are coming here to take us away, to join the League as full-fledged members. Citizens, with all the rights and privileges you have denied to us and our fathers.”

Nikki smashed her fist into the railing. “Oh, there is no way those cargo ships are coming without escorts. We’re leaving hot everybody, prepare for the possibility of being attacked once we hit open sea.”

“Got it,” Chief Maaturro called back.

Nikki was pleased with how cool-headed everyone was being. Although the room was an utter chaos of messengers and runners, it was not a panic. King Buni helped Prince Francisque up to his feet, Seer Alifan scyred their escape route, and the others thanked him for it. There was no agenda, no vetting, they each did what they could for the benefit of all.

Just a few months ago they were enemies. Now, they’re really working together.

Nikki jumped in and helped organize the evacuation.

* * *

In the plaza below, Akar held out his arms and spoke before the massive tree. “If you will hear us and give us what we ask, we will stay here among you. But, if you will not give us what we want, then we will leave, and you can rule over this wretched forest by yourselves, barren, unable to have children, unable to harvest your crops, until the last of you falls dead to the earth. That is our leverage.”

The line of Treesingers stepped back. The women looked at each other, terrified as the prospect of what he was proposing.

“You would threaten us with the death of the forest?” Lady Bursage spat. “You would rob us of our right to rule?”

“We don’t want to take your forest away from you.”

Akar jumped down so he could speak to her face to face. “We just want to be a part of it. This is our home too, but we are slaves in our own land. Our vote and consensus among ourselves is that we would prefer to stand beside you as equals. But if the only place you will have is under your heels, then we would prefer to live among the foreigners instead.”

Lady Bursage scoffed. “Slavery? Bah! You are well cared for.”

“No, they are not!”

All eyes turned to Iris Bursage, who stepped past her mother to address the other women. Akar’s eyes narrowed hatefully to see her.

“The men are right,” Iris declared boldly. “It is shameful the way we treat them.” She turned to look at Akar directly, her eyes full of regret. “We dishonor Milia by our treatment of them.”

Akar was as shocked by her words as he was by her contrite expression.

Lady Bursage hatefully slapped her daughter, knocking her to the ground. “Hold your tongue! How dare you defy me in front of the others?”

Iris looked up at her mother defiantly, her cheek already swelling red. “But it’s the truth.”

Akar pointed at Lady Bursage. “Look well, everyone. Here stands a good, kind woman of the forest, brutally beating her own flesh and blood for the crime of speaking out of turn. What more evidence do you require to acknowledge your sins?”

Lady Buckthorn stepped forward, her hands on her weapons, ready to draw. “You pretend peace, yet you poisoned our trees and cursed our queen.”

Akar looked sincerely confused. “What?”

“Don’t feign innocence. Those spikes you drove into the trees nearly killed Juniper.”

As the mention of it, Dahlia Buckthorn’s lips twisted into a dark scowl.

Akar looked around. “They were just ordinary spikes. A symbol of…”

“No, they weren’t. Who gave them to you?”

“Uh…”

* * *

Inside the palace, Queen Forsythia ran through the entry hall, desperate to get to the main gates before violence erupted. With her magic, she could make the journey in just a few moments, but without it, the royal tree now seemed like an enormous obstacle, slowing her advance--setting its will against her.

“Talliun, I have a special task for you.”

“My place is at your side, my Queen.”

“I realize that, but the need is great. I want you to make sure that my family gets loaded up onto the transports.”

“But…”

The Queen stopped. “Please, Talliun. I will not risk my children being left behind.”

Talliun was hesitant.

“Do not think of this as a slight.” The Queen took Talliun’s hand gently in hers. “I would not leave the lives of my family in someone who was not worthy of such a task.”

Talliun took heart from her words. “I swear they will leave safely.”

“Thank you.”

Talliun ran off, and the Queen continued with the rest of her guard. She turned a corner and found the men of the Forsythia household standing there, waiting for her.

Surprised, her guards drew their weapons.

“Wait,” she commanded.

Dahoon stepped forward, the mark of ii’ainta drawn on his cheek.

“My Queen, he said sadly. “It is only right that we go down and join the crowd, so as not to be tempted to use our positions within the palace against you.”

The Queen looked at them, dismayed. “Are you…telling me you agree with them?”

Balen stepped up. “You have been a kind master to us, Lady Forsythia. You even took me into your house when I was not yet married to your mother. You have been a fair and gentle owner. But even the gentlest taskmaster is still a taskmaster.”

The Queen tried to hide how deeply this hurt her, but they saw through it. “Well, if that’s how you feel, then you should join them.”

Dahoon bowed. “Thank you my lady. And goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” she whispered. “It’s seems that is all I say lately.”

As the men filed out through the servant’s corridors, Privet was left standing behind.

“Do you agree with them too?” the Queen asked.

“You know I do.”

She watched the men walk away from her. “Will you betray me also?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I came back to Wysteria to stand by you.”

“But, you just said…”

“I don’t have to agree with you to stand by you.”

He shrugged. “Besides, when have we ever agreed on anything?”

The Queen nodded gratefully. “All right.”

Though her guard protested, Privet joined them as they made their way to the front gates. There, Tulip and Veronica were finishing the bulwarking process.