Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  “So much for the scriptures, eh?” Mina scoffed. “If you ignore them as soon as they become unpopular, how sacred can they really be?”

  Oleander turned a harsh eye to Mina for listening in.

  Mina tugged on one of her tall, fox-like ears, her tail swishing about playfully. “Sorry, can’t help it. Mesdans have crisp hearing.”

  “Then listen well, Mesdan. You should not presume to lecture me on my duty. As speaker for Milia, I am perfectly within my rights to assert my authority in this matter.”

  Captain Evere stepped in front of Alder, shielding him and the baby. “You will not lay a hand on my spirit-son.”

  Her jaw dropped open. “You would dare threaten a priestess of Milia?

  “Tomani don’t make threats, lass. We make promises.”

  Mina stepped in as well, her arms crossed. “This is our duty as mari…mariota....”

  “Maar’i ota’a ann’i.”

  “Yeah, that.”

  The High Priestess unfurled her robes and pulled out her staff. “I didn’t come here to quarrel. I would prefer to settle this without force. However, I swore an oath when I took on the cloth, and I must fulfill my duties.” The second her staff touched the wood of the floor, the whole room reacted. The doors opened wide, and armored footsteps could be heard approaching.

  “The Black Guard,” Privet warned, placing his hand on his weapon. “She’s called for the church’s enforcers.”

  Evere and Hanner were ready to draw their weapons as well.

  The Queen, for her part, remained as dispassionate as ever. To look at her, you would think they were doing nothing more important than discussing the style of letterhead to use on court documents.

  “Please tell me we aren’t going to fight here,” Margaret fretted. The tension in the room was growing.

  Alder looked into the Queen’s eyes, his face pleading. “Please,” he whispered. “Please, our child did not ask to be born a man. Please do not cast him aside just for that.”

  The Queen moved to correct him, but her lips would not move. In his eyes, she could see a lifetime of abuse, of patient submission in the face of injustice. In her heart, she knew that even she had thrown a few stones onto that pile herself. It nearly took her breath away. She had the strength of the forest behind her, yet in that moment it was his will that felt indomitable to her.

  “Please, recall your enforcers,” The Queen requested affably. “The rest of you stand down. We are all friends here, not enemies.”

  The High Priestess breathed a sigh of relief and put away her staff. “Oh, I am so glad. I do not like using force. It is the worst part of my job.”

  The approaching footsteps slowed, then turned aside and became more distant, much to the relief of the guards protecting the exits.

  “What is your decision, my Queen?”

  Queen Forsythia stepped down before the High Priestess. “Firstly, I know that it seems unusual for me to allow my husband to speak to me this way. It may shock you to learn that it does not bother me. If you only knew how long it took me to get him to a point when he would speak his mind at all, you would understand why I do not silence him.”

  “But…”

  “It is all right. The interactions between husband and wife are tradition, not law. Besides, I have said far worse to him. I have treated him shamefully even, and he responded with gentleness. How can I not respond in kind, now that it is my turn to hear hard words?”

  The High Priestess furrowed her brow, desperately trying to understand. “Because he is not your equal, of course.”

  The Queen nodded. “In law, yes.”

  She turned to Alder and her expression softened. “But not in my heart.”

  Alder could not hide how much her words meant to him. In that moment their eyes met they shared a bond deeper than even the roots of the forest. The living wood around them shifted at the power of it.

  Privet tried as hard as he could not to be jealous.

  “Secondly,” the Queen said, turning back to the High Priestess. “I have nothing but respect for you and your sisters. Some of my fondest memories as a child were of listening to you cantillate the high songs at the harvest festival.”

  “I wasn’t aware you were paying attention,” Oleander chuckled a little, breaking the tension. “You were always complaining to your handlers about how bored you were.”

  The Queen smiled graciously. “An indiscretion of youth, I’m afraid. But yes, I was listening. However, as real as your authority is, you only speak for Milia in matters where her will is known. At the moment, we do not know her true purpose in this matter. I believe we can all agree on that.”

  Queen Forsythia took a step back and held out her hands, one to Alder, and the other to Oleander. “Normally, we could simply ask Milia herself to resolve this issue, but that is not presently possible. Therefore, I propose a compromise. The old tongue is difficult, I will have our best scholars consult the scroll fragments that remain, and find out precisely what the law says we are to do in this matter. In all likelihood, there is an obscure reference somewhere that tells us that only a woman can be an heir to the throne, and that will end the entire issue, allowing my son to stay in my house without creating a conflict of succession.”

  High Priestess Oleander considered her words, then bowed. “Your time spent among the foreigners has given your leaves a unique hue. I do not recall any Queen so willing to compromise.”

  Oleander’s eyes filled with esteem. “But I believe it suits you. The church accepts your proposal. We will postpone any anointing until the will of Milia is revealed to us, either by her waking or her words found amid the scriptures.”

  The Queen bowed graciously as the High Priestess turned around, her bells jingling sweetly as she exited the great hall. She paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder. “I apologize for my forcefulness, my Queen. I hope this will not sour our rapport with one another. I was only doing my duty.”

  The Queen reached out to her through the trees and allowed their spirits to touch. Finding no hard feelings there, the High Priestess took heart and left satisfied.

  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the doors pinched closed again. Everyone, that is, except Alder, who set the empty bottle aside and ever so gently set the newborn across his shoulder, supporting his head as he patted his back to burp him. Despite the care with which he handled the baby, his eyes were clearly worried.

  Queen Athel looked at him sympathetically. “You are angry at me, aren’t you?”

  “Angry? Why would I be angry, my Lady? I have no right to be angry. I have no rights at all.”

  Mina stepped closer and stroked the side of his face with her hand. “Don’t hide it, sweetie, just tell her how you feel.”

  Alder looked up and said with great difficulty. “I…I thought you would be on my side in this,” he whispered.

  Athel had trouble hiding how much his words affected her. “I am on your side, Aldi. Look, I know what the law says, but I am also positive there must be another verse somewhere that specifies that the heir must be female. These things don’t just happen by accident.”

  Athel sat down next to her husband and put her arm around him. “If I had done nothing she would have taken our baby away from us. This way, no matter what they find in the scriptures, we get to raise our child together. That is what is important, isn’t it?”

  Alder turned his head and kissed the baby on the cheek. “That is important. I do want to raise him. But, even still, I don’t want him to grow up to be a slave.”

  Chapter One

  Newall Norsoso could barely believe his eyes. The forests of Wysteria were barely recognizable from the last time he had been here. Thousands of warships lay docked with the trees, their branches wrapped around and cradling them in an almost motherly way. People from every island he knew walked about purposefully, and a
few from islands he had never heard of. They were all working feverishly, preparing for the invasion they were soon to launch against the Stonemasters. The formerly isolated island was positively cosmopolitan now. Signs were posted everywhere in a variety of languages. Vendors from dozens of different islands rubbed shoulders with each other in the streets, blocking the view to the traditional Wysterian shops behind them. But for all the diversity, the Wysterians themselves refused to participate in it. Their Treesingers skulked in the shadows, watching the foreigners suspiciously, whispering to themselves in their whistly native tongue, and only speaking common when absolutely necessary. Many of the song halls and libraries had placed up banners, restricting access to Wysterians only. Their men remained inside, only occasionally poking their heads out long enough to toss some trash or dust out a window down into the forest floor nearly a mile below.

  Newall licked the palm of his hand and wiped it across the few strands of hair he had left, laying them flat against his sweaty skin as the wood before him reshaped itself and he was escorted deeper into the royal tree.

  “Um, am I supposed to have a token to present to her Queeness or something?” he asked nervously.

  The Treesinger guard rolled her eyes in irritation and muttered some curse, but otherwise ignored him as he was instructed by the men to remove his boots and roughly placed in a line of people waiting to enter the royal hall.

  Realizing that his sweaty palms were staining the parchment he carried, he wiped his hands off on his civilian trousers as best he could, leaving a streak where some of the ink had rubbed onto his fingers. He missed his navy uniform. It had a smart cut to it, slimmed him down quite a bit. What’s more, he liked what it stood for. Now all of that was gone. After being twice sent to massacre a peaceful population, the Federal navy’s reputation was irrevocably stained, and nothing could clean it, so he had resigned his commission, along with most of the invasion force. The only people left in the navy were those blood-minded individuals who could care less.

  At his feet, a little rootlet grew up and began wrapping itself around his big toe. His first instinct was to kick it off, but looking around at the imposing female guards, he thought better of it, and instead jerked his foot as hard as he thought he could get away with to try and shake it off.

  “Presenting Mister Newell Norsoto from the Kingdom of Derets,” Dahoon announced formally in common. The wood before him parted and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light coming from within.

  The radiance of the Queen nearly took his breath away as she sat upon her stately throne. Her hair was flawlessly braided, adorned with pears and a beautiful silver circlet. Her gown of white flower petals flattered the beautiful curves of her young body. A cape of living roses and thorns flowed out behind her like a floral waterfall. The walls of living wood that made up the grand hall leaned slightly towards her, as if bowing deferentially. Even the sun itself seemed to bestow its blessing upon her, a ray resting upon her brow, highlighting the beautiful red in her auburn hair.

  Only Alder knew that she had actually spent several minutes at the beginning of the day, repositioning the wood and branches to create that very effect.

  “Mister Norsoto, it pleases the forest to see you again,” she greeted. Her voice was icily powerful, yet undeniably feminine.

  When he realized that this person had once been the scrappy-haired girl who came to his office seeking to join the navy, his brain nearly melted.

  The guard nudged him from behind about twice as forcefully as was necessary, nearly making him stumble as he stepped forward into the dignified hall.

  “Um, yes, you look so different I... nearly…more beautiful, I mean. Uh, oh, I’m sorry; I probably shouldn’t…er…”

  “Have you brought news from your king?” she asked, nudging him back on task.

  “Oh, yes.” He fiddled with the clasp and it broke, the long scroll spilling out onto the floor before him. “Oh, figs!” He bent over and scooped it up as best he could. “Um, yes, the King of Derets has agreed to join the Wysterian Alliance. His son has returned with me and will be attending the conference tomorrow as his regent.”

  He awkwardly held out the stained and smeared scroll to her, so she could see the royal seal herself.

  “Thank you. The forest understands that you were delayed in coming here.”

  “Yes, my ship was attacked by navy patrols. They are doing everything they can to disrupt travel outside of Wysterian airspace.”

  “A problem that will shortly be remedied,” The Queen assured.

  “Thank you. You are as lovely as your mother was. Oh, I mean, not to say you look old…I mean, not to say she did…oh no…what I mean to say is that…”

  “May I announce the arrival of Captain Tallia of the Royal Guard,” Dahoon announced formally, cutting the fat man off.

  “Oh…” Newall said mousily as he was escorted away.

  Captain Tallia entered, standing straight and proud in her armored gown, saluting with her fist across her chest with her one remaining arm. “My Queen. We have finished finding housing for all of the former navy personnel, although it was necessary to place many of them with the Suidra families.”

  Queen Forsythia nodded thankfully. “That may create problems, but the forest understands the need for it. However, something else bothers you?”

  “Yes. The problem is that we have nearly quadrupled the population of our island.”

  “So far, the forest seems to be managing all right.” The Queen knew she was exaggerating. It had been days since she had slept. Putting out the fires of rage her people felt towards their former enemies was pushing her past the brink of exhaustion. For every ember she smothered, it seemed three more sprung up.

  “It is true our Treesingers can grow an inexhaustible amount of food, but they can’t make water. At the rate we are going, these foreigners are going to drink the lakes dry.”

  The Queen steepled her fingers. “Yes, and the dry season is approaching. That means the forest will have to secure an external source.”

  Without a word, Alder stepped up alongside the throne, looking very fetching in his formal attire as he held his clipboard. “My Queen. The only island that has joined us with an excess of fresh water is Ronesia. But they are nearly a month’s journey by sail.”

  Bunni Bubbles sat on his shoulder, wearing a tiny royal maid costume. “Too far, that’s just too far,” she sang sweetly, tapping her tiny pen against her tiny clipboard.

  “You see the problem,” Tallia continued.

  The Queen nodded. “Yes, thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

  Tallia saluted again and walked out. The courtiers eyed her uneasily as she left. In their hearts they wondered what should be done with a woman who had lost her magic. Was she to be regarded as a man now? A few whispered of replacing her. But, just as soon as the doubts welled up, the Queen sensed it and touched their hearts through the trees, trying to bolster and reassure them. It only partially worked.

  “Presenting Madam Aspen Bursage,” Dahoon announced formally.

  Several of the courtiers parted as the wintry-haired woman strode forward, discarding a crumpled fistful of papers at the foot of the throne.

  “There! I have returned. Fat lotta good it did, forcing me to live on a rickety ship of corpse-wood for a month. The Kingdom of Hatronesia has refused to join your Alliance.”

  There was a wave of hushed surprise through the courtiers.

  The Queen leaned forward. “Madam Bursage, the forest completed the negotiations over the crystal array prior to your departure. All that was necessary was for you to acquire their seal and signature.”

  “I have never been treated so rudely in all of my life. Those feather heads; they refused to give us the respect owed us.”

  “Their customs are…”

  “Do you know what they said to me? They said that I wa
s stuffy. I will not be spoken to like that. Do you know who I am?”

  The Queen remained as calm as ever. “Aspen, of course the forest knows who you are. You are the Matriarch of one of the largest and most honored Braihmin-class families. It was only fitting that you be sent as our diplomat.”

  For the briefest of moments, the old woman’s harsh eyes flickered over to Alder, who shuddered ever so slightly, as if he expected to be struck.

  Madam Bursage held up a bony finger. “You are not sending me out amidst those filthy foreigners again,” she insisted, then turned around to leave along with her daughters.

  As the courtiers whispered amongst themselves, The Queen leaned back in her throne.

  “That is the third one we have lost this week,” Alder noted. He brought his hand up to stifle a cough.

  “Yes.”

  The Queen tapped her staff, then leaned over to Dahoon. “Please make room for an additional ten minutes of meetings. The forest needs to speak with her naval advisors.”

  Dahoon looked crushed as he checked her itinerary. “I’m not sure I can do that,” my Queen.

  “Skip my meal breaks then.”

  Dahoon opened his mouth to advise her, but then thought better of it. “Yes, my Queen.”

  Alder coughed. “My Queen, you must maintain your health.”

  The Queen looked back at her husband. “What about you? You do not seem well.”

  Alder coughed again. He was looking extremely pale, even for him. “I am fine, my Queen. The fate of the world hangs in the balance over the next few days.”

  “Then I am also fine.”

  Wysteria was a fairly large island, but it was amazing how quickly something could happen when the Queen commanded it. In the next town over, Ryin sat contentedly around a smokey jatlat table, surrounded by beautiful navy women dressed in slinky evening gowns.

  “Oh, I love watching you play, Brian,” one of the purred as she snuggled up close to him.