Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (53 page)

“Open the gates.”

The Treesingers threw up their hands.

“But, we just closed them.”

“Do it.”

“Ugh.”

* * *

As the men and women contended with one another, the front gates of the royal tree opened and Queen Forsythia strode out fearlessly, her regal beauty glistening in the light that peeked down through the canopy.

The throng of men grew silent when they saw her, shocked that she would come out to meet them personally. Some reflexively bowed their heads and took a knee, but their comrades lifted them up again. The women were equally surprised, having expected her to hide within.

“What is she doing?” Lady Lotebush wondered aloud, breaking the silence.

The Queen walked up to where Akar faced off with the women.

“Akar. I am Queen Forsythia,” she announced elegantly.

Akar wasn’t sure exactly how to respond, so he simply nodded awkwardly.

“I have heard your demands,” she said steadily. “I give you my word, so long as your protestors remain peaceful, I will hear your grievances and address them. If they are reasonable, I will agree to them by written contract and oath.”

Akar was stunned. “You…you will?”

“Yes. As you say, you are part of this forest too, and as such, it is my duty as Queen to care for you.”

She turned her gaze to the women. “If the men are being mistreated, if they are being deprived, I would know of it and correct it.”

The women snarled in anger at her declaration.

Akar couldn’t believe what he was hearing. No Queen had ever spoken about men in this way, not in all living memory. “That’s…wonderful…when?”

“Immediately.”

Akar could not help but smile. Many of the men held up their candles and cheered to hear it. “T-thank you. I don’t think you know how much it pleases me to hear…”

“Athel Forsythia no longer fill the role of Queen,” a deep powerful voice called out.

The women parted as the High Priestess arrived, dozens of black guard following her.

“This is a volatile situation,” the Queen explained. “Surely it would be best to settle our dispute after this crisis has…”

Solanum stepped out from behind the High Priestess, her eyes wild with delight. “Hello, sis.”

“Athel Forsythia,” the High Priestess announced, pulling out a signed document. “By the authority of the church, by the authority given us by Milia herself, I am here to place you under arrest under charges of heresy.”

A few of the women covered their mouths in horror. The men were equally shocked.

The black guard held up their staffs, and great roots erupted out of the ground to bind the Queen.

Privet didn’t hesitate to act. He drew his saber and stepped before her. Quick as thought, he slashed the roots to pieces faster than they could grow, his blade creating glimmering arcs in the sunlight. Then he landed a kick on the nearest black guard, sending her armored form crashing to the ground.

“Stop!”

Everyone froze as the Queen held up her hand. She looked down sadly at the severed roots laying about. “I will not have you hurt the trees, Privet.”

Privet reluctantly sheathed his weapon. “You sure they feel the same way?”

She looked at the women angrily. “And I will not have you hurt the men. We are all the forest, man and woman and tree,” she declared boldly. “We cannot be enemies. We must be friends.”

The men couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

The High Priestess stepped forward. “No, we’re not. The forest has made its decision, and you will abide by it.”

She held out the document for the Queen to see. “As you can see, it has already been ratified by the courts. You’ll find your sister’s seal affixed there at the bottom.”

Solanum gave a feral giggle.

The Queen looked it over carefully, taking in every detail.
She’s had every Braihmin matron sign it. How did she get their signatures so quickly? Unless…of course, she’s been preparing for this for weeks. She poisoned the women against me and let me speak to them in the forum to seal my fate. She set a trap and let me fall right into it.

For a moment, she caught the eyes of the High Priestess. There was no tenderness, no remorse, only stern resolve. All around her, Athel could feel the gaze of the women from every direction. The hatred in their eyes, the absolute disgust in their gazes. It was unbearable, but she resolved not to give them the satisfaction of seeing her affected.

The High Priestess held her hand out to the royal guard. “Remember, you serve the forest, not a person. Now that Athel Forsythia has been legally and lawfully deposed, you are honor bound to abide by the decision of the forest.”

The royal guard reluctantly stood down and put their staffs away.

* * *

“Careful, make sure to support his head,” Talliun cautioned as Captain Evere and a pair of officers lifted Alder out of his bed and onto a gurney. Mina stood at the door, keeping watch.

“It would be a lot easier if I had some help, lass,” Evere complained, careful not to knock over Trillium’s pot.

“Little busy here, sweetie.”

With one hand, Mina held Ash. With the other, she chanted into a silvery ball of whirling sound growing in her claws.

Her spell complete, Mina released the sphere and it zipped out through the window.

“You’re sure that message will reach Deutzia?” Talliun asked.

“Positive. Celina’s magic has never let me down.”

Sensing a scuffle outside, Talliun leaned out the window. Far below, Athel was being shackled by her hands and feet.

“Oh no.”

* * *

Down in the plaza, Athel was forced to her knees, a great metal collar placed around her neck. Some of the lower class women wept to see it. Many of the men despaired. Solanum laughed embarrassingly loud, her eyes rolling back into her head. Dahlia reached out and snatched Athel’s crown away, dropping it to the ground and crushing it beneath her boot. Through it all, the former queen remained calm and passive.

“You consented to the arrest of your own flesh and blood?” she asked Solanum coldly. “You agreed to let our mother’s throne be given to another family?”

Her sister cackled. “I have no flesh and blood. I am made out of glass.”

She spun around madly, singing to herself as if she were amid a field of wildflowers.

The High Priestess raised her staff to the crowd of men. “Men of Wysteria, during this period of transition, while a new royal line is consecrated, you will return to your homes or whatever station last commanded by your matron.”

“We will not disperse,” Akar shouted, the men holding their ground. “As citizens of the forest, we have call on our basic rights of food, shelter, clothing, and dignity, none of which are being met.”

“You are not citizens of the forest,” Dahlia snapped, unable to hold her anger in check. “You are property only. Now, hop to or it’ll be the lash for you.”

Akar smiled knowingly, as if this was exactly what he had hoped she would say.

Dahlia raised her staff at Akar.

Athel tried to yell out, but a gag was placed in her mouth.

As Dahlia moved to attack, Woad stepped forward and placed himself in her way. “You will not hurt him,” he said defiantly.

“Get out of the way, polisher. Or I’ll break your knees.”

Woad straightened his shoulders. “You will never touch me again.”

His voice was soft, his demeanor calm, but there was such force behind his indignation, such a fire in his eyes, that it made Dahlia retreat a step backwards.

Woad looked her over, as if he could not recall why she had been so frightening to him in the past. “As I thought. For all your power, you are a coward. All bullies are cowards in their hearts.”

Dahlia’s fear turned into embarrassment, and then to rage, her features twisting into an animalistic growl.

The men looked to Akar, unsure of what to do. But he was undaunted. He cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted up to the balcony above. “Are there any members of the Alliance Council up there?”

The head of Precept Nolocuass poked out. “Yes, we are here, but…”

“The Alliance Charter specifically guarantees rights and humane treatment to all people within her borders, is that correct?”

“Well, yes, but those are to be enforced by the local leadership.”

“But, we are not citizens of Wysteria, as the Braihmin leaf-witch here so boldly declares. However, we are still people living within the borders of the Alliance, so then it falls to you, the Alliance Council, to insure our treatment, is that not correct?”

Nolocuass scratched his neck. “Um…”

President Kaln of Sutor stuck his head out as well. “Yes, I’m afraid Akar has a good point. They are essentially like gypsies. Without nationality, but not without rights, which would put them under our jurisdiction.”

Athel struggled against the black guard that held her.
Dahlia, you idiot, you played right into Akar’s hands. Now the Council will be forced to intervene militarily. I’ve got to stop this or there will be bloodshed.

Akar smiled. “Ministers, did you know at this very moment, the men of this island are having their daily water rations confiscated by their matrons so that they may continue to bathe and cool themselves from the mid-day sun?”

They both seemed surprised. “Is…is that true?” they asked the High Priestess.

“This is none of your concern,” Lady Buckthorn shouted back.

“I’m afraid it is.”

“The Alliance Charter has no validity here,” the High Priestess declared. “It was signed by Athel Forsythia, who has never held any political office in these lands. That right belongs to her sister, Solanum, whose signature appears on none of your documents.”

Now the ministers were the surprised ones. “Is that true, Lady Forsythia?”

Athel winced.

Oleander elbowed Solanum in the side as she danced. The wild-eyed woman snapped to attention and stepped forward.

“My name is Solanum Forsythia. Your presence here is not wanted nor permitted,” she recited, straining to recall the right words. “All of your agreements are invalid. We demand you vacate our forest immediately.”

The Ministers nodded. “With pleasure. We are working on it right now.”

* * *

In the cave, Tigera took his queen and set it down. “Check,” he announced proudly.

Queen Sotol looked over the board carefully.

“Well, this is no good,” Marc fretted, his colorful beak clacking nervously. They’re going to resolve the situation peacefully. The navy will leave and head straight for Boeth. We’ll be attacked.”

“We’re doomed,” Jennat moaned.

“We should disengage the flight web immediately,” Ryberts suggested.

“It can’t just be switched off,” Marc argued. “It would take weeks to power it up again.”

“Yes, but do they know that?”

Queen Sotol lifted up a sharpened fingernail. “Ryberts, you should not speak, you should watch and listen.”

“Such insolence.”

Dev’in stepped forward. “So, what are you going to do, number eight?”

Queen Sotol lifted up her bishop. “You’ve watched me throw water on seeds, now watch me throw black powder on coals.”

She slammed her bishop down. With a wave of her other hand, some of the black shakes formed itself into a master crystal array.

* * *

“Take her to Milia’s temple,” the High Priestess ordered to her black guard, her eyes firmly fixed on Privet as he stood ready at the gate. “I don’t want anyone attempting to free her.”

As Athel was dragged off, chained and bound, floating embers of black fire gathered in the air, grabbing everyone’s attention. The dark fire took on the shape of Queen Sotol.

Athel looked up.
Oh no.

“The women haven’t told you yet, Akar,” Queen Sotol warned. “What they’ve discovered.”

Realizing what was happening, the High Priestess raised her staff. “Stop her!”

A dozen Treesingers responded, and the nearby trees swung at the hanging image with their branches, but only managed to momentarily scatter the embers.

Akar looked up suspiciously. “What are they not telling us?”

“The magic the women wield is what causes the stillness.”

The cackling image of Queen Sotol evaporated, leaving the men in stunned silence.

Akar looked at the ground, rage on his face. “It can’t be…”

Woad looked at the women, his eyes belying the utter betrayal he felt. “It’s not true…is it?”

Dahlia laughed. “Of course it is.”

“Daughter, hold your tongue,” Lady Buckthorn ordered, careful not to make the mistake of publicly striking her as Bursage had.

“Why? Why not let them know? There’s nothing they can do about it. They’re treeless.”

“There are a lot of women who are treeless. Scholar Riverwood said, stepping forward. “Are they to be treated like men under the new regime?”

“Oh, most definitely,” Dahlia boasted.

“Be silent, child. It is too soon to discuss such things.”

“That’s not a denial,” Riverwood pressed, balling her fists.

Dahlia twirled her staff around in her fingers as she stepped before the men. “Oh, don’t despair, little boys. This is joyous news. Don’t you see? Your value to us has increased now. You’re worth at least ten times the thaain you were before. You’re more than just polishers and harvesters to us now, you’re a power source. And, now that we know it works that way, we’ll marry you twenty and thirty at a time, to maximize our abilities. Who knows? It might even increase our lifespan further.”

The men were appalled.

Dahlia threw her head back and laughed. “I like the idea of living four hundred years or so.”

“No! You can’t,” Woad gasped.

Akar balled his scarred fists. “We won’t let you.”

Dahlia chuckled and lifted up her staff. “What are you going to do about it? This is our forest, and the trees don’t listen to men!”

Barberry Buckthorn stepped forward, grabbing her sister’s arms. “No, don’t do it!”

Dahlia elbowed her sister in the gut and slammed her staff to the ground. A wave of razor sharp roots broke through the earth, carving a line straight at Woad. Scholar Riverwood raised her own staff, and roots lifted up the ground beneath the man, throwing him out of the way before he could be skewered alive.