Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (60 page)

Athel stepped in sheepishly. “I…uh…” she began, her lip trembling. “I know I’m not a queen anymore…”

They made no response. She withered under their gaze.

“…and I’m sorry I wasn’t completely forthcoming when we created the Alliance…”

She wanted nothing more than to turn and run.

“…but, if you’ll still have me, I think I might have an idea.”

King Buni gave a big grin, revealing his canines as his short stubby tail wagged. “Well, all right then, let’s hear it.”

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Kahn Alakaneezer praised, striding abreast and slapping her on the back so hard it nearly knocked her over.

Athel grimaced, her stitches on fire.

“Oh, sorry.”

As she approached, Prince Francisque lifted his gloved hands and began clapping. Princess Turion and Guru Inthanos joined in the supportive applause. Chief Maaturro and Naanie put their fingers in their mouths and whistled a cheer.

Athel managed a weak smile as she was led up to the command table.

“So, what’s the first step?” King Orens’shaw of Lahiti said, smoothing back his mane.

Athel closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying desperately to shove aside her fears. The stitches over her heart burned brightly beneath her bandages.

For Alder, for Privet, and for Nikki. I’ll try again. Milia, please don’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.

She opened her hazel eyes. “First, we’re going to diversify our crews. Instead of placing all the Sutorians in one formation, and all the Hazarians in another, for example, we’re going to spread them around, so there’s at least one on each Eriia.”

The leaders all looked at each other hesitantly.

Athel looked up at them. “Do you think they can handle working together like that in mixed units?

Issha looked around and nodded his scaly head, his long tongue flicking out. “Yes…yes I think they can.”

“We’ll make it happen,” Kaiser Duncan affirmed with a grin.

Kahn Alakaneezer slammed his clawed fist into his paw. “If they refuse, I’ll twist their arms until they submit.”

Athel nodded. “Okay, the next step involves the Hatronesians. We’re going to make two special attack wings of six Eriia each. I need your best people for these, your most skilled mages…”

The command platform rocked, throwing chairs and charts about. Everyone had to grab hold of something to keep their footing.

King Vilmas of Korsica poked his head up, his colorful beak snapping worriedly. “Suni’s feathers, what was that?”

Mina ran to the doorway and looked in, panting. “We have a problem.”

As the Alliance leaders made their way atop the command platform, the fleet of Eriia around them moaned and caterwauled. The Beastmasters could barely keep their fear contained.

The entire formation had come to a halt. Before them, the clouds were rearranging themselves into a pair of enormous figures. One, a figure of frost, icicles like a porcupine covering his body. The other a tall Amazon, her skin glowing like the morning sun. The massive Eriia were little more than mice before their size.

Mina’s ears dropped, her mouth hanging open. “It’s the god Jabint and the goddess Celina.”

All the Mesdans and Articians in the invasion force dropped to their knees in worship. Most of the others recoiled in fear.

Prince Francisque stepped forward, elated beyond measure. “Oh, great goddess, you are wise and benevolent. I cannot express my gratitude that you would bless us with your presence, to aid us in this most dire hour.”

Celina shook her head. “We have not come to fight for you.”

Francisque’s tail wrapped around his leg. “You…haven’t?”

“We have come to bring you word on behalf of all the gods,” Jabint declared, his icy voice shrill against the air. “You are commanded to turn aside now, and return to your lands immediately. So say us all.”

“So say we all,” Celina affirmed.

All the soldiers looked at one another in terror. Everyone was deathly silent.

Chief Maaturro stepped forward. “But…but why would you oppose us? The Rubric of the Stone Council is your common enemy. It threatens your lands and your people, the entire world.”

Celina held up a glowing fist, her voice a crack like thunder. “Do not pretend to council us, mortal,” she bellowed.”

Everyone dropped down at the terrible power of her explosive voice. The Eriia mewed in horror, threatening to scatter.

“The magic that you wield, the very breath of life that exists inside of you, they are a gift from us. We may give them and we may take them at our whim. They belong to us, and we will do with them as we please. You were created to serve us, not the other way around. It is clear to us that this world was a mistake. You have forgotten your place, and so we will begin anew.”

This declaration was like a blow to the head to everyone who heard it. Ambassadors and diplomats fell on their haunches, stunned beyond measure. Hardened soldiers collapsed to their knees, their hopes dashed like so much dust. Everywhere a blanket of despair descended down upon them, shocking in both its intensity and suddenness.

Only Proconsul Neriise dared speak up. “You are to abandon us to death, then? We are all to drown beneath the encroaching seas?”

For a moment, the two gods looked at one another in hesitation.

They held out their mighty hands. “We have a token we were bidden to show you.”

Suddenly Mina screamed as if she were being torn apart from the inside. It startled everyone so much they backed away from her as she fell to the deck, clutching at her heart.

Captain Evere and Athel ran up to her as she convulsed in agony. Light was ripped from her bursting soul, rising up and soaking into the hands of the gods. When it stopped, she was left there, broken in her husband’s arms.

Mina gasped and opened her lavender eyes, her whole soul shivering. “It’s…it’s gone.”

“What’s gone?”

Tears began forming in her eyes. “It’s completely gone…everything…they tore it out of me…”

Evere turned to the gods, his black eyes pulsating with anger. “You wretched eldritch beasts, what did you do to her?”

“We have permanently stripped her of her magic,” Jabint explained.

Everyone who saw staggered from the impact of what they had just seen.

Captain Evere roared in anger, pulling out his rifle and firing without thinking. The shot passed harmlessly through the cloudy form of Celina.

“Listen well, mortals,” the goddess proclaimed. “That was a warning. Any of you who attempt to use our magic against Boeth will be stripped as well. Turn back now. So say we all.”

“So say we all,” Jabint affirmed.

If they wavered before, this final declaration shattered the will and resolve of everyone in the task force. Hardened sailors wept openly. Many prostrated themselves, begging forgiveness, pleading for mercy, but none was offered and none was given.

Kahn Alazaneezer looked up at the sky, disbelief and despair on his face. “The gods…have abandoned us?”

Duke Relivan gloomily took off his hat. “It’s over…everything is lost.”

King Issha brought his knees up to his chin, wrapping his tail around himself. “They’ve given up on this world. We weren’t good enough for them.”

Evere’s rifle dropped from his hands and he collapsed on his wife, holding her close to him, his tears mixing with hers as they wept together.

Athel placed her hands over her face, her heart breaking under the strain. There was no warmth in the sun anymore.

Every time I try, the people I care about get hurt.

She fell to her knees. Her heart burned in her chest. The pain was so bad, it threatened to stop beating. Athel gagged, clutching at her stitches, unable to breathe.

Every time…

The clouds began to dissipate, returning to their natural state. As they boiled away, Celina glanced at Athel in satisfaction. “See? It’s just like she said,” she mentioned to Jabint.

She?

The gods disappeared, leaving the task force alone and grieving in the cold skies.

Athel gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. Struggling, she put one foot under herself, and fought her way onto her feet. “This is Spirea’s doing,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “She’s behind this, I can feel it.”

“Feel it?” Guru Inthanos asked, his nose poking out from his shell.

Athel wiped her face angrily. “They were lying to us. They claim to speak for all the gods, but Milia has been unconscious for nearly a year now. She couldn’t have been a part of this decision.”

“Gods can’t lie, can they?”

“What’s more, they were scared. Couldn’t you sense it?”

“Can gods get scared?”

“It would appear that they can. And if they can be scared, that means they can be…”

Her body straining, her heart cracking, her tears pattering against her dress, Athel painfully climbed atop a barrel, and looked out over the weeping and broken people on the platform. The howdah on every Eriia around her mirrored the same sentiment. Men and women, their faces bereft of hope. A forlorn people, an abandoned people. A people with no future. A world dying, and their hearts dying with it. Their sorrow found no words, only a mournful moan, a corpse noise, an escaping of air from compression and weight, but without life or warmth.

“It’s over…” Regent Kowless whispered wretchedly. “This world will be erased; no memory or record of it having ever existed will remain. It has all been for naught.”

“It’s hopeless,” King Buni whimpered. “Even the gods have given up on us.”

Athel reached back and pulled out her braid. Her auburn red hair was freed, and blew tangled in the wind.

“People of Aetria!” she called out, clutching her lacerated heart. Her voice rang out above the wind, clear strong, and commanding. But it was not her mother’s voice, nor was it the voice of her youth, but a combination of the two.

It was her voice.

“My name is Athel Forsythia. You have followed me this far. Will you follow me a bit farther?”

King Frians looked up; there was no joy in his eyes. “How can we oppose the will of the gods?”

“And what then?” Athel shouted. “Are we to go home and hide in our basements, cowering wretches until the seas come and claim our lives? Are we to tell our families that we had a chance to break the curse on the seas, but we decided to turn around instead of try? If we give up, we are already dead, all of us. But, if we fight, we have a chance to win.”

Athel lifted up her arms. “Arise! Arise men and women of Aetria. Do not lie down and die, stand up, get on your feet, and fight!”

King Turino looked up, despondently. “This is the end, why try?”

“Perhaps you are right. But, if this is to be our end. If this world is to be erased, wiped clean by the seas. If the gods have truly decided that we are no longer worth the bother and they have resigned themselves to start over, then I would have us make such an end, that it will be forever carved in their memories and hearts. I would have us fight them so hard, oppose them with such ferocity and will, that they will wait a thousand times over before trying this again.”

She pointed to King Frians. “How dare we oppose them? I say, how dare they condemn us?! I say, how dare they call us their children if they are to treat us so spitefully! We do not owe them our loyalty, they have to earn it! If they want us to bow to them, they must first be worthy of our knees.”

Her heart seized painfully in her chest, but she forced herself to stay on her feet. “We are the people of this world. These lives we have may be a gift, but they belong to us now, and we will fight for what is ours. We will not go quietly into our graves. We will not simply lie down and accept our extinction.”

Proconsul Neriise looked up at her, wanting to believe. “But…they have abandoned us.”

“Well, you know what I say? I say, if they have abandoned us, then that makes us free. Free to chart our own course, and carve out our own place. And if we are free, then how should we use that freedom? Shall we cower in fear, awaiting our own demise? Or, shall we stand up and fight for our lives? If your children were here right now, looking into your eyes in this very moment, what would they have you do? Would they have you tremble in defeat, or would they have you fight for them?”

“Arise, people of Aetria! We are abandoned, but we are not alone. The gods will not fight for us, so I say we will fight for each other. We will fight for the person on our left, and the person on our right. We have the strength of our backs and the will in our hearts, and we will use them to fight for our right to live.”

Kahn Alakaneezer clenched his fist and rose to his feet, his eyes quavering. “Right now, my son is back home, hiding beneath his bed, praying for me. My son…he would want me to fight.”

“Aye,” King Buni agreed, rising to his feet. “I promised my daughter I’d be back for her tenth birthday, and I mean to keep my promise.”

King Frians stood up. “My sisters are tending the vineyards for harvest. They are counting on me. I can’t let them down.”

“Yes,” Kaiser Duncan said, standing tall. “So long as there is a will, there is still hope.”

Athel raised her fist for all to see. “ARISE! ARISE PEOPLE OF AETRIA, AND FIGHT FOR WHAT IS OURS! FIGHT FOR YOUR CHILDREN, YOUR SPOUSES, YOUR PEOPLE, ALL THAT YOU HOLD DEAR! FIGHT!”

A scattering of people stood up, and lifted their fists into the air.

“Fight!” they cheered weakly in return.

“FIGHT!”

More stood up, adding their weight to the throng, their voices becoming stronger. “Fight!” they called back.

“FIGHT!”

The rest arose, men and women with tears in their eyes, raising their hands as one. “Fight!” they screamed back, echoing her.

Despite everything that had happened to her. Despite everything she had lost. Despite her injuries. Despite everything that had been taken away from her, Athel stood before them, inspiring them to try again. She seemed to them like a monolith of courage. Even Captain Evere stood up, Mina in his arms. His cheeks wet, he raised up his own fist.

“FIGHT!” the entire task force shouted as one. The very heavens shook at the strength of it.