“What is that?” Yew asked.
“A message. It means that you will live under their heel no longer. The women will allow us to stand alongside them, or they will stand alone. They can lord over a dying forest, childless and barren, until the last leaf falls and this place becomes nothing more than a shameful memory of dust and cinders, or they can give us what we demand.”
Akar was pleased to see a fire kindling in the hearts of so many, but others resisted.
“You will bring the wrath of Milia down on us,” Tanoak coughed, looking around ominously. “If we were meant to live as they do, Milia would have blessed us with magic as she did her daughters.”
Willowood nodded. “He is right. You must learn your place. It is the natural order of things.”
Smugly, Akar leaned back against the railing. “And what if the order was a lie?”
He allowed the thought to marinate among them.
Yew stepped in closer. “What are you getting at?”
Akar grinned. “Have you not heard? A baby boy has been born to the new Queen. A man-child who can use magic.”
The men gasped. Many covered their ears, as if they feared to be cursed by the mere hearing of such a thing.
Akar strode in among them, his arms outstretched. “The women feign to hide this from you, because they know what it means.”
Now their eyes were fixed firmly upon him. “What does it mean?”
“It means they are wrong about us. It means the church has lied to us. If a man can use magic, then we are not animals. We are people, and the women were wrong to treat us as they have.”
The men looked at one another in astonishment.
“I do not promise you victory,” Akar continued. “I only promise you the opportunity to stand up and claim what is yours for the taking, should you dare to believe you can have it. Freedom will never be given to us, not in a thousand generations. We will either stand up and claim it for ourselves, or we will curse our sons and our grandsons to live the same miserable lives we have lived. Now, my brothers, answer me this. What future will you leave to your sons? Freedom, or slavery?”
The men went deathly silent. Barely a breath passed among them.
Finally, Woad stepped forward, and took one of the spikes from Akar’s outstretched hand.
“This morning,” he said angrily, turning to the others, “my Matron nearly shot me dead for sport. Seventeen long years I’ve served her, and I mean no more to her than a stool or a crate. I am not a person, I am a thing. I only now see that it is because I have allowed myself to be treated as a thing. I’m not afraid to lose my life. Not anymore. Because I realize now that I don’t even have a life to lose. I am twenty-nine years old, and I can’t even write my own name. I’ve never had a real meal. I’ve never slept in a real bed. Chances are I would not live out the year anyway. So, how am I to spend my last season before the stillness takes me? Cowering and polishing? No! No more! I will gladly trade the days I have left for a chance to live free, even if it is just for one day! No, even if it is just for one hour! For one moment!”
Taking the hammer, Woad lined up the scroll and spike, and with a deep guttural roar, rammed it into the living wood of the tree.
The men cheered. A hoarse and sepulchral sound, feelings bound up and locked away, a lifetime of injustice, was now given voice. They pushed forward nearly as one, driving the spikes in until they were all used, then taking turns, driving the spikes deeper and deeper into the trembling bark.
The group of older men holding out grew smaller and smaller, until only Willowood remained.
Akar offered him the hammer. “Will you join us?”
Willowood took up his crutch and scooted forward. “You have doomed us all. The powers of the entire world could not defeat the trees of this forest with ten thousand warships, what chance do we have? They will crush us flat like dung flies.”
He looked them over judgmentally, then his face hardened further. “…but…if we are to be doomed, then I would rather die as one of you, than stand with the leaf-witches against you.”
Willowood took the hammer and with a scream struck a spike with all his might. The men of the Buckthorn family cheered as one.
* * *
Alder had difficulty focusing his eyes through the cloud of pain that seemed to envelop his senses. Gradually he became aware of a cool wet cloth being gently stroked across his sweaty forehead.
“Athi?”
“Shh, it’s all right, I am here,” she said soothingly, giving him a lingering kiss on the lips.
Alder had to break the kiss to cough painfully.
“Please, tell me, what can I do for you?” he requested.
Athel shook her head. “Oh no, I don’t need anything.”
Alder turned his head towards the window, the dark horizon was brightening with the gathering light of morning. “Did you watch over me all night?”
“And most of last evening. You are a lot sicker than you’ve been letting on. You should not have tried to hide it from me.”
Alder shook his head. “No, this is unacceptable. I must get up. You have so many duties to attend to. I cannot become a burden to you.”
Athel placed her hand on his chest. “Stop it. Just stop it, okay?”
Alder coughed again and settled back in.
“You’ve always taken care of me,” Athel said gently. “Now let me take care of you.”
Alder coughed again, his body shivering with cold. “You are too kind.”
She stroked his brow as she looked him over tenderly. “No, I’m not kind enough. Not nearly for what you deserve. Just tell me what you want and it’s yours. Anything in the Queendom.”
Carefully, Alder reached up and placed a clammy hand against her cheek. “I already have more than I ever wanted.”
Athel felt her heart brimming over, and a tear fell free, running down her cheek. As she fell on him to kiss him again, she thanked Milia in her heart for having been blessed with such a wonderful man for a husband.
“You know,” Athel said, wiping her face off, “if you keep saying romantic things like that, it’s going to cause a scene in front of everybody.”
Alder looked over and noticed with her free hand she was griping her staff in an official manner.
“You’re holding court right now?”
“I have to. It was the only way I could spend time with you.”
* * *
In the royal court, King Buni tilted his head to one side, his dog-like ears flopping over as he stared at an empty throne.
“Queen Forsythia thanks you for fulfilling this request so promptly,” Snowberry Forsythia relayed as she stood next to the throne in her formal wear, clearly uncomfortable with this assignment.
“Um…okay,” King Buni stammered, looking again at the empty throne. “Is the Queen…invisible?”
A few of the Wysterians chuckled to themselves.
“No, my niece is holding court through the forest. Everything I hear and see is passed onto her.”
King Buni shrugged and scratched behind his ear. “Whatever. Bring them in, I guess.”
His guards clapped their paws together, and a dozen large crates were wheeled in, Mina and Balen showing them the way. “This is the latest synthesis,” she announced to the court. “A combination of Hazari, Advan, and Mesdan sorceries.”
As a crate was opened, Nikki leaned over in interest from her desk. “Are those Hazari lightning arrows?”
“Originally, yes.”
Unable to quell his curiosity, Balen walked over and picked one up. The metal shaft shimmered in every color of the rainbow as the light caught it just right. “Sparkly.”
“I thought these were reserved for the royal guards to the Hazari throne only,” Nikki asked.
King Buni’s guards bristled at this, but a quick bark from him
stilled them.
“The world is changing,” he announced for all to hear. “The things we once kept hidden away we now share freely. That is how it must be in this new Alliance.”
Nikki was handed a tablet for her to sign off on the delivery.
Curiously, Balen reached his finger out to check the squishy, blunt tip.
King Buni held out his paw. “Be careful…”
There was a zzap of magical energy, and Balen was thrown back into a pair of courtiers, knocking them to the ground.
King Buni’s arm dropped down. “…of the tip.”
“The bolts have been modified to release a non-lethal charge,” Mina explained as she rolled Balen’s limp body off the squealing Wysterians. “It’ll give you one trell of a headache and paralyze you for a few hours, but it won’t kill you. We’re also working on a larger version for cannon.”
“Are all our weapons for the invasion to be non-lethal?” Prince Francisque mocked between mouthfuls of cheese.
“The Queen insisted upon it,” Nikki confirmed.
Princess Turino ran her hand animalistically across the pommel of her saber as she leaned against the wall. “I doubt our enemies will afford us the same courtesy.”
Nikki looked hurt. “As one of the Queen’s former enemies, I can assure you, it is most definitely appreciated.” She reached up and proudly touched the Alliance patch on her uniform. “If it wasn’t for her, we would have died as monsters. Now, we have a chance to live as people again, and reclaim our honor.”
The other navy officers in the room applauded. The Wysterians remained silent.
* * *
Back in the royal chambers, Athel closed her eyes to concentrate on the five conversations she was having with Matrons across the island and in her courtroom, while with her free hand, she scooped out a balm and rubbed it on her husband’s chest.
“Oh no, not soma extract, it is much too expensive…” Alder protested, but she placed her finger against his lips and silenced him. Already he could feel the herbal aroma soothing his lungs and dulling the pain. As his breathing steadied, he began to feel a little sleepy.
“You have a bad fever,” Athel explained sadly as she opened her eyes again. “The doctors aren’t sure what is causing it, but they all agree that rest is the best thing for you right now.”
“I assure you it is nothing more than a simple cold.” Alder tried to sit up, but found himself restrained. Propping his had up in confusion, he found strong bands running across his body.
“Am…am I tied down to the bed?”
“Like I said, I am here to insure you get your rest.”
“Yes, but…”
“Shhh,” she said, placing her finger over his lips again.
Alder was clearly not amused. His indignant expression was so adorable, she could not help but giggle inside.
There was a knock at the door, and Captain Tallia peeked in. “Mister Albashire is asking to see you, my Queen. Since he is not Wysterian, I assumed you would make time to address his needs.”
Queen Forsythia rebuked her with a glance, but allowed him to enter.
Albashire walked in holding a crumpled scroll in his hand. “What is the meaning of this?”
“One moment,” The Queen requested, her face strained. “Six conversations is a bit much…even for me. Let me finish speaking to Lady Gladiolas and Lady Peony.”
A moment later she opened her eyes and turned to him.
Albashire held up the scroll a second time. “You’ve rejected the last three chapters. I spent weeks on those!”
“I would hate for your fans to be disappointed over such an illogical ending. Your books have a legacy that must be preserved.”
“So what’s wrong THIS time?”
Queen Athel leaned back in thought. “I should think the reason would be blindingly obvious.”
“It’s because she marries Erfaron, isn’t it?”
“There are a number of…”
“Isn’t it?!”
The Queen adjusted her grip on her staff. “One moment everyone,” she said, handing it to Alder. She sat down on the edge of the bed and lifted up her feet, separating herself from the living wood.
“Look, there is no way in the three moons that Daians would be stupid enough to choose Erfaron!” Athel insisted, motioning to the draft copy on her nightstand. “He’s completely wrong for her. She has always had a stronger bond with Tathar. He was there at her side during the Collens tournament arc. He alone spoke up for her when she stood accused before the Driccar court. They’ve been friends since childhood, they have a complete trust one with another. There’s no way she would throw all that away just to be with Tathar.”
Albashire threw his hands up. “But Tathar is the fan favorite.”
Athel scoffed. “Bah! Tathar. What is he? He’s brooding, obsessive, manipulative, controlling…”
“I know! That’s why the readers love him.”
Athel reached out and grabbed the man by the collar. “That doesn’t matter! He wouldn’t make her happy!”
Her outburst surprised both Albashire and herself. They stood there for a second, their heavy breathing slowly fading away.
Captain Tallia knocked on the door, but did not open it. “Is everything all right, my Queen?”
“Ah, yes,” Queen Athel said, her face bright red as she let go of the lanky man and picked her staff back up.
Queen Forsythia cleared her throat. “What I meant to say, Mister Albashire, is that young people may pine after someone like Tathar, but that is a dangerous dream. In the real world, people like him leave you abandoned and shredded inside.”
Athel reached out and placed some more ointment on Alder’s chest as he slept. “What young people need to know is that the most important quality a companion can have is loyalty.”
“Loyalty?”
Athel nodded. “Everyone thinks of themselves as being loyal, but the reality is that true loyalty is exceedingly rare. When you find it, you can give your whole heart to that person, without holding anything back, because you know they will never betray you. You know you can completely trust them. You know they will stand beside you even when things get bad, even when things get really bad. When the cannons start to fire and the mortars start to fall, most people flee, even though that is when you need them the most. The one who stays, that is the most precious person. Treasure them, hold them close, for you will never ever find anyone better than that.”
Albashire sniffed. “What about romance?”
Athel chucked. “Loyalty is the deepest, most mature, form of romance. When you have someone worthy of complete trust, you don’t have to hide or hold back. They can know every knot and blemish, every crack and speck inside you, every untidy thing about you, and they will love you all the more for it. They will make you a better person just by being near you, without compulsion and without manipulation. Loyalty may not be what people pursue, but it is what they so desperately need.”
Albashire crinkled his lip as he straightened his collar. “Is your husband…tied up?”
“Please try to stay focused.”
“Right. Look, you make some very good points, but at the end of the day, I don’t think it really matters to anybody.”
Queen Forsythia looked out the window at the rising sun. Her hazel eyes looked infinitely tired.
“You couldn’t be more wrong, Mister Albashire. The world is filled with frightened little girls, overwhelmed by their studies and duties, whose tutors told them they would never catch up with the other students. Girls who were about to give up, who found solace in your stories about Daians and her courage, her heroism. Your stories inspired them to hold on just a little bit longer, try a little bit harder. It helped her turn her eyes to the sky and dream about being free. Even if that dream eventually turned out to be a lie, the feeling of it became
a part of her, and she kept it close to her heart, even until this very day.”
Albashire looked confused. “Your highness?”
The Queen cleared her throat. “I am speaking generally, of course. My people share memories through the trees, so the experiences of those in the forest are well known to me.”
Albashire clucked his tongue. “Uh huh.”
A knock at the door told him his time was up. He walked away as the Queen quietly cared for her sick husband. At the door, he stopped and turned around.
“I’ll try it your way.”
At that moment, the first rays of sunlight hit the forest. The Queen’s expression changed to that of alarm.
“Alert Alliance security,” she announced in her commanding tone, standing up. “Have my carriage readied immediately!”
Albashire looked around. “Wait, what?”
“Pull half of our best Treesingers out of Coral Hills, Ivy Valley, and Jasmine Ridge. We need all the womanpower we can get.”
“Um, are you speaking to me or…?”
“I want the heads of every neighboring family to perform a deep commune with their family trees immediately. Go over every moment of the last forty-eight hours. Someone out there must have seen something.”
Queen Forsythia took half a step forward before stopping. She glanced back at Alder as he slept on her bed. “I’m sorry, Aldi,” she whispered.
“I summon my cousins Rose and Saltbush Forsythia to my bedchamber. My husband must be cared for in my absence.”
Albashire looked like his mind might break as she walked past him and joined her guards out in the corridor.
“What is going on?” he whimpered.
She looked at him, her eyes focused. “Three more Nallorn trees were blighted during the night.”
Chapter Seven
“Trim the mainsail, prepare to jibe!” Ryin called out, excited to be giving the orders for once.
“Jibe yourself, I’m feeding the baby,” Hanner bellowed as he adjusted the blanket he used to cover himself as Strenner nursed.
Ryin rolled his eyes and jumped past the ogre-like mass of his shipmate and manned the cranks, rotating the yardarm about the mast to catch the wind more fully. The scoot surged ahead, crossing the coastline and sailing over the lush jungles below.
Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles Page 21
