Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (62 page)

She heard a pair of Eriia grunt angrily somewhere above them as they did just that.

Invisibly, the fleet swam the distance between the first ring of defenses and the second.

Suddenly, the Tirrakians began screaming, and the world reappeared around them. Everyone had to shield their eyes as the giant form of Lizume the Sun God stood before them, his glowing, cloudy fist outstretched.

Soldiers fired their cannons without waiting for orders, the shots passing right through his body. Beyond, the shores of two small islands lay, the defenders shocked as both a god and a fleet appeared offshore.

“Open fire!”

At Athel’s command, the fleet spread out, releasing a volley of gunfire at the gun placements along the shores of the island. Stone embankments were bathed in green paralytic lightning as the magical rounds exploded, warping guns and catching dozens of soldiers in the open. Glowing energy seared over their bodies as they fell jerking to the ground. Yet, even as the remainder drew in the earth and stone around them to retaliate, their defensive fire was far lighter than expected. Wave after wave of electrical cannon and mortar peppered the costal defenses, concealing them from view behind a layer of fume and fire.

“Good, we caught them out in the open. Prepare to send in the attack squadrons.”

“Aye,” came the response.

Talliun leaned in. “You know, if Poe rips their magic from them…”

“He won’t. He’s done with this war. As is Sponatrion.”

“Those are long odds you’re betting on. If the Beastmasters lost their talents, we’d be dead in the water.”

Athel turned to her. “Now you’re worried? According to the odds, we shouldn’t have made it this far.”

Talliun chuckled.

* * *

Captain Sykes looked over the men and women of his command as they quickly reloaded their guns. They had fought together in the Guild War; they had served under him during the first and second invasions of Wysteria. Now, as Alliance Military, they fought together yet again.

As a vengeful god loomed over them, they ignored his immortal form and blasted away at the Stonemaster defenses. Even the new crewmembers from various isles fell into step without hesitation. Their discipline seemed almost unreal.

A part of him longed to tell them how proud he was, but he held it in check. The looks on their faces as they worked, the focus and dedication they showed under pain of death and defeat showed him that they were proud of themselves, and nothing he could say would add or subtract from that.

“Attack wing one, engage the left island,” came Athel Forsythia’s voice from the floating spirit beside him. “Attack wing two, the right.”

“It will be done.”

Captain Sykes rested his hands at the small of his back, and stepped up to Layla, who looked unsure.

“Are you ready, young Hatronesian?”

Layla grabbed her elbow. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Captain Sykes turned around to where Princess Turion of Artice and Prince Francisque of Mesda were helping the officers fix the shadow mine and themselves to special rings mounted deep in the wood of the howdah.

“Left-tenant, take care, that device is very delicate.”

“Aye,” Iarti responded.

Like a giant barbed arrowhead, the complicated synthesis looked like a shimmering glass vessel with storm clouds of color swirling about inside of it, even though from the weight of it, they knew it was anything but hollow.

Their Eriia shifted beneath them, griping about the weight.

While the rest of the fleet slowly backed off, continuing its relentless shelling of the coast, the two attack wings swam forward.

Now, the moment they had all dreaded arrived. The gurgling caves drew water in, the seas around them actually lowering in depth for a moment before the surrounding water could take its place.

“Steady everyone,” Captain Sykes cautioned, sensing their nerves.

All at once, the entire island before them contracted like a living thing, and huge jets of acidic seawater shot out at the exposed attack wings.

“Now!”

Layla and the other Hatronesians held out their hands, their sparkled light soaking into the Eriia beneath them. The creatures retained their strength, but became lighter, so light that instead of ponderously kicking themselves forward when their Beastmasters told them to, they jetted forward, impossibly fast for something as big as they were.

The enormous jets of shrieking seawater shot through the skies where the whales had been, but hit only air.

The crews struggled to hang on. Even the special harnesses they wore to attach themselves to the deck seemed barely adequate as their whale sped through the skies, the seas nothing more than a blur beneath them.

The jets changed direction; their angle becoming shallower to hit the approaching targets.

Sykes’ cap fell off as their Eriia pulled hard to the left, his hat instantly dissolving as a column of water hit where they had been. They dodged left, then right, then pulled back in a corkscrew, each time barely missing the jets of water, which converged around them like streaming ribbons, desperate to make contact and end their advance.

The Beastmaster drivers whooped and hollered in excitement, taking off their hats and waving them around in the air as they swerved and curled.

The jets of water pinched around them like fingers, but the six Eriia slipped through. They combined into one, then spilt again, circling around the racing beasts, but they pulled around in a barrel roll. Under magical direction, the waters flattened out like a paddle and tried to slap them down, but they squeaked out along the edges.

A jet of water swiped across them, and they ducked beneath it. Sensing the creatures close enough to snag, the oceans below sent up hundreds of thirsting tentacles, clawing at them hungrily.

The Eriia weaved through this grove of acid, the tentacles whipping past them in a blur of hissing rage. Enraged, the sea welled up beneath them in a wave, curling around them on both sides like a barrel. The Hatronesians exerted everything they had, giving the beasts an extra burst of speed. One by one, they shot out the end as it closed down upon them.

The final Eriia clipped the edges as she slipped through. The majestic creature squealed in pain, her flippers and tail dissolved in an instant as she listed upside down. Her crew had only a moment to scream before a jet of water caught up with them. For a heartbeat, their cries were mixed with gurgling darkness, and then they were gone.

The water expended, the jets ceased, and the attack wing zipped past the ruined coastal defenses. Beyond the white cliffs, a blur of abandoned farms and desolate farmhouses flew by. They passed several walls of defenses, cannons blasting away at them, rockets streaking out at them, mortars and catapults hurling burning explosives into the air. The entire horizon seemed filled with projectiles like fireflies, but they zoomed on ahead, weaving through and cartwheeling past them. They had no time to stop and pick a fight. They only had a few minutes before the cave system would spew again.

Captain Sykes allowed his crews to fire at will, taking shots at a trebuchet or war bow, splintering them atop decaying fortifications as they zipped past. The opposition wasn’t even a third of what they had expected. Captain Sykes looked out over the landscape they traveled over. Deserted inns, forgotten shrines, vacated factories, and empty town squares.

“Where is everybody?”

Prince Francisque leaned forward and pointed, his tall ears flapping in the wind. “There is it, right where Odger said it would be.”

At the center of the island sat a low, cratered hill, like a whale spout. Air breathed into it as the entire cave system prepared to expand and drew in fresh sea water.

“We’re going in,” Sykes said.

The group of five Eriia kicked up on one side, then dove down into the tunnel. Dark panels of Truestone flew past them on all sides as they flew down into the darkness. Captain Sykes fired a flare to light their way.

Sensing their encroachment, a stone panel stretched out atop a column of rock, attempting to crush them like a mallet against the far wall.

A pillar slammed down from above, from the right, from below, from the left. Each time, the incredibly fast Eriia danced around them.

They were getting deeper now, the walls were moist with seawater. Caustic drips hit the deck, coring out little pits in the material.

Left-tenant Iarti gripped his hammer anxiously as another pillar slammed down above them, nearly taking their heads off.

Two pillars came from either side and met in the middle, catching one of the Eriia and pulverizing him and his crew in an instant.

“Not yet,” Sykes yelled, fighting to maintain his grip. “We only have the one mine. If we don’t release it at the core of the island, it won’t work.”

The tunnel branched ahead. They went left, then right, then left again as they had practiced, avoiding the myriad of antechambers which held the water to be disgorged.

Layla wobbled, sweat forming on her brow, her wings drooping. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” she warned, her brow straining. “I’ve never enlightened something this big before.”

“Just hang on.”

Princess Turion fired a fresh flare up ahead. “There, the one on the bottom.”

The four remaining Eriia dove down into the mouth of an enormous screaming carving of Isha. Here, the truestone was bleached from its frequent contact with seawater, the roots of the island protected from erosion by the tight panels lining every surface.

“There it is!”

They exited the tunnel into a large tiled cavern beneath the island. Like the lungs of the land itself, it pinched tightly, ready to draw in fresh seawater.

“The magic required to maintain this must be beyond reckoning,” Ensign Avid marveled.

Captain Sykes nodded approvingly. “Left-tenant, activate the shadow mine.”

Iarti hit the glassy crystal with his hammer, cracking the surface. The glowing clouds within swirled violently.

Emar and Kathan cut the restraining ropes, and their Eriia turned on his side, allowing the device to fall free.

“Make for the exit, best possible speed.”

Free of its encumbrance, the Eriia kicked his tail and looped around, speeding out the way they came, the other four following close behind.

The entire cave inhaled like a living thing, and seawater began pouring in from channels from every direction. Sensing their presence, the acidic waters rose up to grab at them. Prince Francisque and the other Mesdans released a gale of frost, freezing the tentacles before they could reach them.

Just as the waters met in the center of the chamber, the mine hit the floor and exploded with a titanic crack. Twisting energies shot out in every direction, expanding in a wave that folded into itself like a helix. The reds twisted together with the blues, the oranges threaded themselves with the purples, the greens wove themselves together with the yellows. For a second, nothing happened, the rushing waters covered the magical smoke, then a force emerged from beneath the water, and all become light--whiter than pure white, brighter than the sun.

The waters were thrown back. As the Eriia slipped back through the mouth of Isha, the waters behind rushed up to meet them, spurred forward by the explosion.

“Must go faster,” Captain Sykes cautioned as the boiling waters gained on them with frightening speed.

Layla fell to her knees, her face slick with sweat. “It’s too much,” she panted, straining to keep her magic flowing into the animal.

Their speed began to slow. Princess Turion and the other Articeians summoned a sonic blast and fired it behind them, simultaneously propelling the whales forward and beating back the rushing waters.

“Lighten the load, lose everything,” Captain Sykes ordered. The crew began frantically unhooking their cannons, kicking them over the side of the howdah. They threw their rifles and the ammo. They even emptied the contents of their pockets, knowing that every ounce could make the difference between their escape and their deaths. The other Eriia crews did likewise.

Inside the cavern, the mine’s light expended itself, and the truestone lining the walls fell away like scales, reduced to dust by the powerful synthesis. In an instant, millions of tiles disintegrated, revealing vulnerable bedrock at the island’s heart.

The waters receded and shrieked in delight as they ate and tore into the rock, licking and lapping, biting and clawing, consuming it with astonishing ravenousness.

The cave network bucked and shuddered as if it were alive. The walls pinched and convulsed around the Eriia, shaking free many of the tiles that had not been damaged, revealing fresh stone beneath. The walls cracked, the rock shifted, the entire island quaked as millions of gallons of seawater feasted upon its unprotected core.

Water rushed at them from a tunnel to the left, but the Mesdans froze it in place. Water surged in at them from the right, but the Articeians beat it back with a sonic wave. The tunnel before them cracked and shifted, nearly cutting them off completely. The Eriia slipped though, the waters behind pushing them through like a nozzle.

The four whales went right, then left, then right again. Far up ahead, a glimmer of sunlight shone like a jewel at the end of the tunnel.

“Look out!”

The gurgling waters sprayed up behind them with frightening speed, violently growing into long acidic fingers.

“Push it back!”

Their bodies shaking with exertion, Princess Turino and Prince Francisque led the others in firing a magical burst, freezing and slamming back the waters together.

As the Eriia weaved through the pillars that had attacked them on the way in, the glow of sunlight grew steadily brighter.

“We’re going to make it,” Iarti cheered.

Suddenly the Mesdans and the Articeians fell to the deck, screaming in agony as their magic was torn away from them. Stonemasters above at the exit worked their magic and the rock pinched closed.

The Eriia were forced to stop just a dozen feet from freedom, the half frozen enraged waters coming up beneath them.

“Blast it open!”