She shook her head. “No, it’s a request from the girl who loves you.”
Alder managed a weak smile. “Well then, I am honor bound to obey.”
His hand fell away from her face, and he slipped back into a shallow sleep.
As she watched him breathe, Athel felt Privet approach her from behind without even seeing him. She turned around and hugged him by the waist. He held her tight, stroking her head tenderly.
“What can I do to help?” he asked.
“Hold me,” she requested.
He nodded solemnly. “That, I can do.”
Lady Bursage forced her way past the guards and into the room. “The forum is in an hour. I came to make sure you’ll be gracing us with your presence.”
Athel looked up at her in disgust. “That’s what you’re worried about right now? The water crisis?”
“Shouldn’t you be?”
Athel couldn’t believe how callous the woman was being. “Shouldn’t I be?” she repeated.
Bursage shrugged. “I mean…this is all been interesting, but it really doesn’t change anything.”
Athel wiped her nose. “Are you insane? This changes everything.”
Suddenly Athel realized the larger implications. All across the island, women at this very moment were blithely using their magic. “They have to know,” she realized. “Everybody has to know.”
Athel looked up at Talliun. “We have to tell them.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
She motioned to the other royal guards, who readied their staffs to link to the forest.
“No!” Athel shouted. “Not that way.”
They looked at her. “But…”
“Drop your staffs!” she commanded in her mother’s voice. “Don’t use them.”
“My Queen…”
“I said drop them!” Athel shouted, running over and smacking them out of their hands. One by one they clattered to the floor. “Don’t use your magic, not even a little. That is an order, do you hear me? I will not have you hurt your husbands anymore.”
The royal guard looked at each other in confusion. “We hear you, but…”
Athel had an idea. She sniffed and stood up, gathering her loose hair. “I want every matron gathered to the forum, from every class, Braihmin, Kisatriya, Vayshya, and Suidra. This is a royal decree. They have to know about this.”
“But, how can we…?”
“Run, take the message by foot.”
“To every household?”
“Yes, and hurry. Use the navy people if you have to, send up signal flares, I don’t care, but get it done.”
The royal guard looked at one another doubtfully, but obeyed.
As they ran out, Lady Bursage sniffed. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Wasting my time?” Athel looked at her in disbelief. “Was there never a time, Aspen, even for a moment, that you loved anyone but yourself?”
Lady Bursage opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it again. Ashamed, she walked out of the room without responding.
With Privet’s help, Athel took a few minutes to straighten herself up. He didn’t know how to braid her hair, but he could do a simple ponytail, so she had him do that instead. After all this time, it felt strange to have her hair done up any other way. Even without linking, she could feel the news spreading through the forest. Just by touching the wood, she could feel the electric current of fear and anxiety. Rumors ran like a current on top of reactionary paranoia. Reflexively, she reached out to her staff where it lay to calm it, but then stopped herself.
“No, never again,” she chastised herself, and felt the guilt well up within her anew.
As she finished applying her makeup, she heard the now familiar jingling of armor as the Black Guard drew near.
The High Priestess looked exhausted, her eyes puffy and red. Her daughters followed behind her mournfully. Mina was with her, holding a slumbering Ash, while Evere carried Trillium in his pot.
“I…ah…I thought your sons should be returned to you,” she said softly. “As promised, the church will abide by the discovery of the Spiritweaver.”
Athel looked at her, the shared sadness on both their faces. “Thank you Kerria.”
Athel stood up and straightened her gown, allowing the petals to flow freely down her feminine form. The train of living roses looked a little wilted. She thought to enliven them, but then stopped herself.
“I never realized how casually I used my magic,” she said, guilt in her voice. “I used it all the time, as if it were some free thing. Something I was entitled to. I never thought to think of where it came from, or what price it came at.”
Mina came up and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Sweetie?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“All right.”
The High Priestess motioned for her guards to leave. “I’d like a moment alone with the Queen.”
Mina and Evere looked at her harshly.
“Please,” Oleander added mournfully.
Athel gave Ash a kiss on the head, and tickled Trillium’s leaves. “It’s okay.”
“We’ll be close by, lass,” Evere cautioned. As he left, Athel noticed him remove the safety on his pistol.
Privet left with them, tying his saber to his belt, and the two Treesinger were left alone with Alder.
“I know what you mean to do,” the High Priestess said sadly.
Athel opened her mouth to deny it, but then decided against it. Without her staff, and with her heart in disarray, she was broadcasting her emotions and intentions all through the wood in here.
Oleander took off her miter and held it in her hands. “I’ve known you for a long time, Athel,” she whispered. “I know how you think. After today, we can never be friends, can we?”
Athel looked down sorrowfully. “No, we can’t.”
“I didn’t want to be your enemy, Athel.”
“And I didn’t want to be yours.”
Oleander looked up, her eyes swimming. “Why did it have to be this way? You were my hero.”
Athel’s eyes became moist as well. “I know. It’s all wrong. All of it. But after what we learned, there is no going back.”
“Are you sure you’re not overreacting?”
Athel laughed darkly. “It feels almost impossible to overreact. The entire core of our society has been shown to be a lie. Our tree is rotten to the core.”
“No, it’s not. It’s the same as it has always been.”
“So, we didn’t know the bark was diseased, but it was still there. In the end, we were just whitewashing a nightmare.”
“Let’s get one thing straight, Athel. You were right about many things, okay? Men did have magic, Milia did create an archway for men in the knot, but all of that merely adds more nuance and knowledge to our history, it does not change the present situation.”
“How could it not?”
“Authority is not given us to change the order of things.”
“We are murdering our kin. We are killing our fathers, brothers, and sons!”
Oleander threw down her staff. “You think you’re the only woman here who loves her husbands? Huh? I nearly died inside when we found out the truth.”
She turned away and looked out the window. “I visited the graves of each of my husbands. Especially Linden. He was my first. Him I cried over most of all.”
Athel looked at her tenderly. “Then, why can’t we agree, you and I?”
Oleander sniffed. “Because I swore an oath. An oath to uphold Milia’s justice.”
“Milia’s justice? Do you even hear yourself?”
She turned back around. “Yes, I do. My loyalty is not so shallow that I would abandon Milia’s will just because it becomes inconvenient for me.”
“Neither is mine. I swore an
oath, too. I resolved to do what she wanted, no matter what. I gave myself over to her completely. I resolved to stop doing what I wanted, and to only do what she wanted.”
Oleander looked her over. “So, what changed?”
Athel looked back at Alder. “I never imagined in a million years that it would be this horrific. Milia is supposed to be a goddess of love, a mother goddess.”
She walked over and stroked Alder’s clammy forehead. “What mother would do this to her children?”
Her grief overwhelming her, Oleander had to turn away. “I…I don’t know. Sometimes it can be hard to have faith.”
Athel shook her head. “No, no. This is way past ‘hard.’ This is completely beyond ‘inconvenient.’ This…this is evil. This has to stop.”
Oleander’s brow twitched in offense. “Hold your tongue.”
Athel chuckled. “You know, in my whole reign, I feel I have done nothing but hold my tongue. Against a constant barrage of insults, accusations, spite, and condescension. I don’t recall my mother being treated as I have.”
“You are supposed to be an example of faith, Milia’s choice daughter.”
“And I am trying to be just that. I refuse to believe that it is Milia’s will that we are to continue on the way we have. I refuse to believe that Milia would want us to continue killing our men just so we can grow oranges and bananas real fast. I refuse to believe that this was Milia’s plan for us.”
“If Milia wanted our island to be otherwise, then she would have made it so.”
“Or maybe she wanted it to change, but was too weak to change it.”
Athel stepped in close. “Did you ever consider that? Huh? What if Milia wants us to change it? What if she desperately wants us to change it? What if it is her will to restore men’s magic to them and rebuild the cycle?”
Oleander looked back at Athel without wavering. “If she wanted it changed, why didn’t she say anything? Nothing, not a single word in a thousand years of recorded history. She even commanded the trees to withhold this information from us. What does that tell you?”
The two women stayed locked, their wills immovable, their resolve absolute.
It was Athel that broke away first. “We’re going in circles. I’m tired of having this argument with you.”
“No, don’t leave. You were plenty eager to use this line of argument against me. You even made me translate the arches to make me face things I didn’t want to see. Now, face them yourself.”
Oleander stepped up behind her, looming over her. “As you are so fond of asking me, Athel, what if Milia wants this? What if killing the men is her will?”
Athel hesitated. “I…”
“What if the current order is exactly the way she wants it to be?” Oleander pressed harder. “What would be your response to that?”
Athel struggled to form a response. A lifetime of doctrine and duty fought against her heart. But, in the end, there could be only one victor.
Athel turned around, shame on her face. “If that were truly her will, then I would refuse to be a part of it.”
Oleander’s eyes filled with disappointment. “And that is why we can never be friends. In your heart, Milia’s will is no longer your top priority. You’ve become unfit for the throne.”
Athel defiantly walked over to the vanity and picked up her crown.
“It’s this husband of yours, isn’t it?” Oleander called to her. “The one who wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. He’s the one who changed you. Who corrupted you.”
Athel knew she should feel ashamed at what she had just admitted. She knew she should feel terrible. But, somehow, as she looked at Alder, all those feelings evaporated.
“Yes, he did,” she said proudly. “He did change me, even more than becoming queen did.”
“What did he do? What argument did he use? How did he take our hero and turn her against us?”
“He didn’t use any argument. He just loved me so completely that I changed. I became a better person.”
Athel turned around. “I hope it happens to you someday. So that you can see how callous you are. The men are inhabitants of this forest too, you know? They are part of the forest, and as Queen, it is my duty to care for them.”
She looked the High Priestess squarely in the eye. “Will you help your forest save its men?”
Athel’s gaze was powerful, so self-assured and confident, so full of terrible majesty, that Oleander had to turn away. “My duty is to maintain the current order. I have no right to change or question it. To do so would be heresy.”
Athel stepped in closer. “I am not against you, Kerria. I am on your side. Our side. I am on the side of the inhabitants of the forest.”
Athel looked around, and for the first time, she understood why the men looked at the trees so warily. “After what we learned today, can we really be certain Milia is on our side?”
“Please don’t blaspheme,” Oleander whispered.
Athel wrapped her staff in a sheet to keep herself from touching it, and slung it across her back. “I’m going now. Are you going to stop me?”
Oleander looked up mournfully. “I’ll wait until after the forum. You’ll have this one chance to say your peace and convince the other women. But after that, it will be my duty to take you into custody as a heretic.”
Athel’s expression became tender. “Thank you, Kerria. You have a good heart.”
The High Priestess redonned her miter and straightened her robes. “Goodbye, Athel Forsythia. The next time we meet, we will be enemies.”
Queen Forsythia took her crown and placed it on her brow. “Goodbye, Kerria Oleander. No matter what happens, I will pray for your safety.”
“To whom?”
The question made the Queen pause. “To Milia. My Milia. The one I worship. The one who wants the travesty and suffering of her sons to end.”
* * *
On a small islet on the indigo sea, little more than a tall rocky spit rising up out of the waters, a single cluster of palm trees clung to life amid the salty air.
Atop the tallest of the trees, a little sea-thrush had perched, pecking away at the bark for beetles. It looked up for a moment, regarding with some interest the odd sight of a black airship drifting towards the islet. It didn’t really sail, or rather it didn’t sail correctly. It cantered sideways, blown by the wind, its ill-trimmed sails flapping loudly and startling the bird enough to force it aloft.
The black airship careened into the side of the rock, half impaling itself, half grinding to a halt.
Several more startled birds flew away as Molly ran up to the side of the gunwhale and looked over at the damaged prow.
“You hit the thing,” she called out.
“I know I hit the thing,” a voice came back.
The cargo ramp extended down, and a gaggle of chained Stonemasters were forced out of the ship at spear point. Margaret came out holding the spear, her hands shaking so much the tip wobbled about. She gave a couple of good pokes at them to show she meant business, but only managed to illustrate that she clearly had no idea how to use a spear.
“Get out, all of you,” she threatened, pulling a hand away to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
“We’re already out,” one of them observed wearily, fighting against his chains.
“Oh yeah…uh…If you try anything…I’ll expand the air inside you and burst your lungs inside your chest!”
She wiggled her fingers at them menacingly.
The Stonemasters backed away as the ramp was retracted, leaving them marooned.
“What are we supposed to eat?” one of them complained.
“Oh, here.” Margaret reached into her pocket and tossed something to them. It landed at their feet.
The ramp closed, and Margaret changed the direction of the wind, tearing the black ship free of the ro
ck, and blowing it clear of the island.
The Stonemasters kicked at the sand revealing the thing she had thrown.
It was a single piece of wrapped candy.
“Can you really do that?” Molly asked, running up to Margaret as she latched the cargo doors closed.
“Do what?”
“Can you really make their lungs explode?”
“I dunno, I’ve never tried. How would you even practice something like that?”
Molly looked over at the hole in the hull, and became concerned. “So, what do we do now? Sis said we should find Athel if something happened to her.”
Margaret looked around at the racks of sick and injured people that had up until recently been her cell mates. She looked over at Mandi, lying unconscious on a pile of blankets Molly had made for her. An unused dish of water at her side.
“We will, but first, we need to get these people somewhere safe,” Margaret said, summoning up a breeze that pushed the listing airship to the north-east.
* * *
Queen Forsythia stepped up the dais at the center of the forum. Row upon row of expectant matrons rose up around her like a great dish. A million eyes scrutinized her every move, a half million tongues whispered rumors about what she would say. A half million hearts thrummed with anxiety.
Behind her calm, icy exterior, Athel was a storm of emotions.
Everything will be decided in the next five minutes. The future of the forest, the future of the men, the future of my reign. Alder’s future, the war, the whole world. Everything rides on this one thing. Can I really do this?
She forced her heart to calm down, and thought of her husband, lying in his bed.
I can do this. I have to do this. For Alder.
At the base of the stairs, Mina and Evere stood with her guards, holding her sons and cheering her on as best they could. Odger hid beneath a table, terrified at the crowd. Nikki was there too, unsure of what to make of all this. Privet did something he hadn’t done since he was a boy. He lowered his head and offered a silent prayer.
Goddess, I know you hate me, and you know what? I hate you too. But this isn’t about me right now. Please, if you can hear me, please give Athel strength.
Queen Forsythia glided to the center, a picture of poise and elegance, her eyes a graceful, dispassionate mask. Inscrutable, unwavering, unyielding, yet possessing a mother’s kindness.
Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles Page 48
