Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  Queen Athel lay back, and her fire imploded in on itself. Exhausted, she could barely keep her eyes open as she fought to maintain her courtly composure.

  Oleander snapped her fingers and her daughters brought a beautiful pearl pot forward, filled with the purest of soil. In it sat Trillium, happily sparkling to himself.

  Athel’s mask fell away as it was handed to her, and she looked up at the old woman with the deepest of gratitude. “You spared him.”

  Oleander nodded. “For now, yes. Ultimately, his fate is already sealed. Your Spirit Weaver arrived this morning. He will test your son and his tree, and we both know what he will find. He will prove that this is some kind of demonic incursion, or mutant aberration, and they will both be expunged from all records and destroyed, as Milia has decreed.”

  Athel introduced herself, and the young tree wrapped his tender leaves lovingly around her finger. Despite her pain, Athel felt so overcome with joy she felt her heart might burst.

  Oleander gave a regretful smile. “I may be an Inquisitor, but I am also a mother, and whatever this thing is, it is also your son, and you deserve to spend some time with him, even if only for a little while.”

  Athel looked up, sincere thanks in her eyes. “Thank you, Kerria. I know how hard this must have been for you.”

  The Black Guard brought forward a kindly old man with a long purple beard. “Hello, my name is Andolf Kummeritas, the eldest of my clan. I came as soon as your summons arrived.”

  Athel shifted her weight and took on the role of Queen again. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Master Kummeritas. I trust we can count on your complete confidentiality?”

  He bowed reverentially. “We will honor the ancient treaties, as always. Nothing I discover during my readings of your magic will be made known outside of your borders. I swear it by the blood of my people.”

  The Queen nodded. Spirit Weavers had always been proud of their fierce neutrality. In times past, that would have been enough to put her mind at ease, but her experience with the Stonemasters made her wary. They too, after all, had always been neutral before this war, and what’s more, the stakes were higher, the life of her sons were on the line.

  “I will have the men of my household show you to your quarters. I hope it will not inconvenience you if I ask you to begin immediately. This is a matter of some urgency.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.”

  “The High Priestess will supply you with the full details.”

  Oleander gave the Queen an odd glance as he was led out.

  By having me explain the situation and give him his mandate, she clears herself of any future accusation of influencing his divinations to her advantage. She can’t possibly still believe he will rule in her favor, can she?

  The High Priestess watched Athel intently as the Black Guard filed out of the room. “Just so we’re clear,” she clarified, “when the Weaver finishes his reading, the church will be taking your sons into custody. If you are truly grateful, then promise me you will not make a scene when that time comes. The church cannot stand another scandal. We need solidarity and faith in this time of war.”

  “I give you my word, and I thank you for showing mercy to my family. It will not be forgotten,” the Queen said smoothly.

  As soon as they let him, Alder hobbled in and returned to his wife’s side.

  “How are you, Athi?” he whispered, dabbing the sweat from her forehead.

  Alone for just a moment, her defenses came crashing down.

  “It hurts,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “It hurts so bad. I just want it to stop. It hurts so bad I feel like I could die from it.”

  Alder hugged her as hard as he dared, but their moment was short lived. The royal guard were coming back in, and after them would follow the court officials. Stealing a quick kiss, the two of them took a moment to introduce themselves to Trillium, and for the second time since they were married, they experienced the quiet joy of meeting their child for the first time.

  Out in the corridor, High Priestess Oleander found the woman she was looking for among the throng of people. “Sister Caladium Lotebush, may I have a moment of your time?”

  “Of course, High Priestess,” she said, bowing with her tray of medicinal herbs.

  “I had no idea the Queen’s condition had deteriorated so quickly. Why have you not taken her to Deutzia to be healed?”

  “We tried that, but I’m afraid Deutzia is in as bad a shape as she is. Whatever dark magic blights our trees, seems to have spilled through the Queen into her Ma’iltri’ia.”

  Oleander took a moment to absorb the information, concern on her face. “What progress have you and your family made removing the spikes?”

  “We have managed to stop the spread of the blight on the spiked trees, but this void magic is strange to us, we have been unable to heal it entirely. Progress is slow, but it is coming.”

  “In the meantime, the pain the Queen is feeling through the link is clearly devastating her health.”

  “Perhaps we should stop Queen Forsythia from linking with the forest in the meantime,” Nikki opined as she walked up.

  The two Wysterians eyed her harshly for butting in to their conversation.

  Nikki stood up straight and dug in her heels. “Look, I know I am not welcome here, but I also have a vested interest in the Queen’s health. You may not see it like I do, but day in and day out, she is the only thing holding the Alliance together. Without her it would fly apart.”

  The two of them shot her daggers with their eyes.

  “So,” Nikki said, withstanding their ire and taking out her quill. “What can we do to help her?”

  “You can start by not wasting our time with ignorant suggestions.”

  “Why? Wouldn’t removing herself from the link stop the pain?”

  “She isn’t linked right now,” Oleander huffed.

  “She isn’t?”

  “No, she hasn’t linked for days,” Sister Lotebush explained. “In her weakened state she couldn’t even if she tried. Yet the pain is still flowing directly into her from every blighted tree, even when she is asleep. Last night I had to put her into a temporary coma just to give her body a few hours of rest.”

  “Perhaps you should have let her rest longer,” Nikki suggested.

  “Use watermaple two nights in a row? That really would kill her.”

  “Some foreign dark art is at work here,” Oleander stated, looking right at Nikki. “I believe that this may be the purpose of those blasted spikes to begin with. To rob us of our unity. We must remove them.”

  “That is extraordinarily dangerous,” Lotebush warned.

  “More dangerous than leaving the queen in a state of constant, excruciating pain?”

  “Possibly, yes. This is void magic. Until I have done more tests I can’t know what effect removing the spikes will have. It might very well kill the queen unless it is done in a safe way. I need time to find one.”

  “We are running out of time. The forest must have a queen, and right now she cannot even link, much less maintain the harmony of the forest. The will of the matrons is already breaking down.”

  Nikki taped her quill against her chin. “Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way. We know that no new trees have been spiked since the branded men were taken into custody.”

  “Yes, not a single one.”

  “That means that amongst those men is our culprit.”

  “Or culprits.”

  “Yes, either way, once we identify him or them, we can find out from him how to remove the spikes.”

  Sister Lotebush nodded. “Obviously they are not going to confess, so we have our best Treesingers doing deep invasive readings on each of those men. But, with the link breaking down, it is more difficult than it would normally be. Nevertheless, it should only be a matter of time before they find
the guilty one.”

  “Or ones,” Oleander added. “I have seen the Queen’s memories myself. In her contact with void magic in the past, the spells always dissipated when the caster passed away. If we execute the perpetrator, the spikes should revert to being ordinary iron and end the blight.”

  Nikki shrugged. “But we don’t know which of those men are responsible.”

  “We are running out of time. If we simply execute them all, it will be faster.”

  Nikki’s eyes widened. “You would execute hundreds of innocent men?”

  “If it meant saving my forest, I would execute a thousand. Milia gives us trials of our faith to test our resolve.”

  Nikki tried to hide her disgust. “Or this could be a test of your mercy.”

  “Mercy is for people, not objects. Look, your presence is tolerated by order of the Queen, but even that clemency does not grant you the authority to question the laws and traditions of our people.”

  Oleander stepped in close to Nikki, her voice a soft growl. “Or, should I bring up what your own kind did to the gypsies living on your lands? Did you show them mercy when you drove them into the sea like cattle?”

  Nikki’s eyes lowered sadly. “That is a shameful chapter in my people’s history. Forgive me if I offend, I only want to prevent you from making a mistake you will regret, as we did.”

  “If you want my forgiveness, then help me restore the forest, and keep your filthy foreign opinions unspoken.”

  Nikki’s anger flared up. “Fine, you want my opinion? I think it would be a mistake to execute all the prisoners.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Yes, it would be faster than identifying the villain, but it could also make things worse. Much worse.”

  “I suppose you have experience with void magic?”

  “No, but consider this: The guilty man or men might not be the caster. The Queen herself said some of the spells being used to slip around unnoticed were reminiscent of the Sotol Guild, whose spells we know for a fact your men can’t use. If the man was merely acting on the orders of another, if he only planted the spikes but did not invoke the enchantment itself, then killing him would not end the blight. What it would do is erase our only lead to finding the true perpetrator.”

  Oleander and Lotebush grew silent, their distaste for her overpowered by the reason of what she was saying.

  “So, our only option is to keep doing what we are already doing?” Oleander surmised. “I cannot accept that. Milia abhors slothful servants.”

  “But what else can be done?”

  Oleander scooted Lotebush aside so they could speak privately. Although they didn’t invite Nikki, she followed anyway. “Caladium, when a sapling is too ill to produce its own leaf, do you simply let it die?”

  “Of course not, we graft on stronger branches, so that the roots won’t be lost…wait, you can’t mean…?”

  Oleander nodded grimly. “If we graft in a second Queen, she could share the pain, twice the shoulders make half the load.”

  “But, doesn’t it take decades to prepare someone to be the Queen?” Nikki asked.

  “Yes, but it just so happens, there is a second individual on this island who has been prepared to do just that. Athel’s sister Solanum.”

  Sister Lotebush stepped back in fear. “No, I will not allow it. She is mad, irredeemably mad. She nearly destroyed us. Her brief reign is a shameful mark that will dishonor her house for a thousand years. Grafting their Ma’iltri’ia together could…”

  “No, her condition makes her the perfect candidate to help Athel. She has spent a lifetime being overwhelmed by the sensations that come through the link. She can handle it better than anyone else ever could.”

  Nikki tried to push past the trepidation she felt and think clearly. “But, if you declare them co-rulers, won’t that create a disaster for leadership and succession?”

  “We already have a disaster. Athel abdicated the throne years ago, yet she returned and became the Queen anyway. Currently, we have a bifurcation of Wysteria’s political throne, which is held by Solanum in absentia, and the position of Ruler of the Forest, which Athel holds. In a weird way, this would fuse those two authorities back together again.”

  Nikki’s eyes went wide. “You mean, Athel didn’t technically have the authority to sign the Alliance treaties?”

  “She cleverly side-stepped that issue by forging the Alliance treaty under herself as an individual, not as a ruler of an island. But it’s only a matter of time before some nosy scribe realizes this amid the paperwork and voices an objection.”

  Oleander raised an eyebrow. “Why? Do you want me to tell them about that myself?”

  Nikki was horrified. “No, of course not! On the eve of the invasion, the last thing we need is a scandal; it could ruin everything we have built.”

  “Then from now on, I expect you to keep my office appraised of all your war preparations. I tire of being informed about everything after the fact.”

  “Are you…blackmailing me?”

  “I didn’t invite you into this conversation. You said you wanted to be a part of it. Well, now you are.”

  Nikki stepped back, astonished.

  Sister Lotebush was more pragmatic. “I could care less about the treaty or what the foreigners think about it. What bothers me is that you are asking a mentally unstable young woman to put herself in a life-threatening amount of pain.”

  “I know, my child, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Milia, in her infinite wisdom, has prepared the perfect tool for this crisis, and is now testing us to see if we have the faith to use it.”

  Nikki and Caladium looked at each other worriedly.

  The High Priestess straightened her robes. “Do not worry about Solanum. I will speak to her myself.”

  “I don’t like this plan,” Nikki said.

  “Neither do I,” Caladium added.

  Oleander looked at them firmly. “It’s either this, or Athel dies.”

  Chapter Nine

  The turquoise canals of Ronesia were full of longboats, laden with fruits and baubles, cheetah-spotted merchants rowing up alongside each other in the bright colors they wore, trading wares and peddling in their scratchy, feline language. The boats they maneuvered were thin, so thin you’d think they’d topple over into the clean waters, but none of them ever did. They expertly slid amidst one another, the boats so tightly packed in places one could walk down the entire length of the canal without ever getting wet. It was a bustle of merry voices and bright lanterns, of laughter and song. Highways of great, triple-tiered aqueducts brought the water here from the distant Doi Utheppa Mountains to the east. They carried the water for a hundred miles. It was so precisely engineered that they kept the flow of water constant all year round to feed the canals.

  It was at the end of one of these aqueducts that Privet and Setsuna oversaw the installation of the gate they had brought. Like a great golden ring, twice as tall as a man, engraved with a complex series of channels like glowing veins, lime and cyan energies raced and wrestled within. It reminded Privet so much of the magical wedding band she had tried to force on him that he wondered if she had done it intentionally.

  “Careful attaching the t’kuuta there,” Setsuna warned as the spotted workers worked the pulleys to lower the ring into its cradle.

  “What the trakk is a t’kuuta?” one of them called back.

  She twisted one of her green pigtails with her finger. “What do you mean, what’s the…? Oh right, it’s the inner band there. It has to be completely unblemished for the gate to open. If you get any fingerprints on it, I’d have to repolish the whole thing and triple my fee.”

  “Well, that would be a huge inconvenience,” Privet quipped.

  “Do they even have fingerprints?” Dwale wondered, looking at the Ronesian’s padded paws.

  Dwa
le tried not to look at the riot of color and song around them. He hid behind his brother, concealing himself as best he could underneath his cloak and hoping no one would speak to him.

  “You all right, Dwale?” Privet asked, taking half a step away to expose him.

  “I’m sorry brother. I’d been without sight for so long this is all a bit overwhelming.”

  Absentmindedly, Dwale reached up and rubbed the beautiful jade eyes that now rested in his sockets.

  “Hey, stop rubbing,” Privet scolded, swatting his hand away.

  “I’m sorry brother, but when the colors are too bright, they itch.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  “I cannot tell you how pleased we are to engage in trade with our ally on such a scale,” Minister Ju’kat said with a bow, templing his furry hands. “I must say, we were surprised when your queen suggested this exchange occur without vessels.”

  “Airships? Pffft. Who needs airships when you have access to real magic?” Setsuna asked as the workers removed the ropes. “I’ve kept this gate charged since we left. Every drop of water you send through it will exit through its sibling back on Wysteria, directly into the Cliffrose reservoir.”

  Ju’kat stepped up to the glowing ring. “Fascinating. Thousands of leagues traveled without time.”

  “Try not to be too jealous.” Setsuna flicked out her hands, and they were bathed in a greenish glow. The ring responded, its etched channels flowing faster and brighter, pulsing with a heartbeat, steam rising as if it were hot, yet no heat could be felt. She chanted a prayer to Ramma, and when she withdrew her hands, the ring hummed steadily. The center of the ring collapsed in on itself, as if the air itself were folding over and over again like paper, falling inward as if it were shooting out the far end, yet nothing emerged. Finally, the folds swirled into a grey mist and became a miniature maelstrom, little crackles of green lightning sparking here and there.

  “All right, it’s ready,” she said confidently.

  The Minister said a few words in their native tongue, and the gathered crowd cheered as the divert in the aqueduct was removed. The turquoise mineral water poured into the ring, disappearing into the swirling mist.