Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  She looked at it dolefully, but made no attempt to take it.

  “I actually wanted to thank you,” he continued. “It turned out to be the best story I’ve ever written. I started back at the beginning, taking your suggestions. I thought you’d want to have a look before I send it to my publisher.”

  Athel’s eyes were heartsick. “I don’t want to read it.”

  “Why? After all the fuss you put me through? You practically held me hostage because you wanted the Tower of Frost to have a fitting ending. Don’t you want to know what happens to Daians?”

  “I used to. In my youth I idolized Daians. I wanted to be a hero like her. Now, the very thought of it makes me sick.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “I meant no offense. I just…I guess I just don’t believe in it anymore.”

  Albashire withdrew the book and held it in his hands. “Why?”

  “Because I’ve learned something.”

  “And what is that?”

  Athel traced over her stitches. “There’s no such thing as heroes.”

  This surprised him so much he couldn’t begin to know how to respond. “What do you mean?”

  “Queen Sotol, she manipulates people, she sends soldiers to their deaths. I do the same thing. I manipulate people without a second thought. I bend them to my will, make them dance like puppets on a string. In a way, I am worse than she is, because I do it while presenting myself as this benevolent ruler. But it’s not true.”

  “I have known many rulers, and you are one of the best I have ever known.”

  “Am I?”

  She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a tight bundle of scrolls.

  “What are those?”

  She looked at them despondently. “These are my victims.”

  She untied one of the scrolls, and allowed the long list to unfurl in the wind. The names were written in the tiniest letters, yet they covered the entire length of the paper.

  “Everyone I sent to Paxillius, their names are here,” she explained. “I sent those young men and women to their deaths.”

  The wind snatched the flapping scroll from her hand. She made no attempt to retrieve it as it tumbled down beneath them, disappearing beneath the clouds.

  “Privet was right,” she said bitterly. “He was so right. In war, no one stays clean. You either stain your hands with the blood of your enemies, or you stain your hands with the blood of your allies. I was a fool to think it was even possible to do otherwise. Kill one person you are a murder. Kill ten people in a row and you are a monster.”

  She turned to him. “What do you call someone who kills sixty thousand? Do we even have a word for that?”

  She brought her knees up to her chin. “At night I hear their screams, a growing crowd of the people I’ve killed. My gods, it’s three cities worth of people. That’s so many I can barely wrap my head around it. In the end, Spirea and I are the same; we are both just butchers. Even the magic she and I wield is nearly identical. Wysterian magic and void magic both come at the cost of another.”

  “You are different. You give people a choice.”

  She shook her head. “Choice? Choice is just an illusion. You place someone in a situation with two options, one of which they will never accept, and they will do the other every single time. I know, because I do it to people fifty times a day. I learned it from my mother…I am so like her it scares me. If choice were really so important, would it be so easily bypassed?”

  “You can’t really believe that.”

  “Can’t I? Two weeks ago, I tricked our enemy into killing six thousand people. And you know what the scary part is? It didn’t even really bother me that much. Six thousand people…people with family, spouses, children, and I killed them without a second thought. I feel guilty for not feeling guilty, but I don’t feel guilty for doing it. I watched them die and I didn’t bat an eyelash. I was more worried about how it affected those around me, because it didn’t affect me at all.”

  She put her hand over her ruined heart. “I’m getting harder,” she whispered. “Something is dying inside of me, and somehow I just know I’ll never get it back. I’m afraid of what I am becoming, and yet I don’t even think there is anything I can do to stop it. I’m like a spectator to my own fate, watching myself become a monster before my very eyes.”

  He held out his hand to her. “Let me show you something.”

  “What?”

  He helped her to her feet, and held his hands out to the vast sea of Eriia swimming around them.

  “These are the people you saved.”

  “Many of them could die.”

  “Everyone dies eventually, but not everyone really lives. These are people who, only a few months ago, were bound by generations of hate and mistrust towards one another. You taught them to work together. You saved them from that cycle of hate. What you have done…has never been done before. Can’t you feel any pride for that?”

  She was reluctant to answer.

  “Anyone can take a life,” he explained. “Creating death is easy, but to create peace? That is a rare gift. To free whole peoples from prejudice is an act worthy of the gods.”

  Athel laughed somberly. “Don’t patronize me.”

  “I’m not. Think on it. It’s not just these people you’ve saved. Their children, their grandchildren, their great grandchildren, will grow up in a world where the islands of Aetria aren’t constantly at each other’s throats. You’ve created a legacy of peace that will bless their lives for generations. You and I will turn to dust one day, but the ripples of what you have started will carry on forever.”

  Athel wiped a tear from her face. “Only if they survive.”

  “Why are your thoughts so dark?”

  “Because the harder I fight, the more the people I love get hurt! Every time I stand up, I am punished for it and beaten back down. Do you know what the definition of insanity is?”

  “I’d ask Odger.”

  “Shut up! Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting something different to happen! I’ve tried fighting back. I’ve tried standing up again. It’s time to try something different. It’s the only sane option.”

  “Is it sane to pout while the whole world falls into the sea?”

  Her heart began hurting her, forcing her to sit down again. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Because you need it.”

  “You don’t know what you are talking about. This fleet around us, it’s only a tenth of what we had planned to attack with. Eriia were supposed to be launched from every island in the Alliance, instead, we only prepared enough herds to launch from Wysteria. Right now, I could be leading everyone here to their graves. What if…”

  Athel clutched her heart painfully. “What if I’m wrong? What if this doesn’t work? What if I get everybody killed? That would make me the worst villain ever.”

  He sat down with her.

  “I don’t think a hero is someone who never hurts anyone.”

  “Now who’s being dark?”

  “People get hurt. It’s a tragic fact of war. People get hurt if you do something, and people get hurt if you do nothing. Those who have never been leaders, they don’t understand the horrible arithmetic of it. You sacrifice ten to save a hundred. You kill a thousand to save ten thousand. That’s just the way it is. A hero isn’t just someone who throws the fewest numbers of bodies on the pile.”

  “You only think that because you’re not the one who has to do it. You’re not the one who has to write to their parents and tell them why their son or daughter isn’t coming home. You’re not the one…”

  She shuddered in pain, grabbing her chest.

  Albashire leaned in close. “I think a hero is someone who fights to protect those who can’t fight for themselves. You can beat yourself up for being like Spirea al
l you want, but the fact is, you are different. Right now, all over the world, there are families; mothers, fathers and children huddled beneath their dining tables and cloistered around their hearths, fearful that the world will soon come to an end. Who is fighting for them? You are. You know what I think a hero is? A hero is someone who doesn’t give up, even when it is hard. Even when it is very, very hard. A hero is someone who finds the strength to keep going when everyone else would have given up.”

  Athel’s lip trembled, tears trickled down her face. “I don’t think I can try again…it hurts too much.”

  He took her hands and set the book into them. “You may have idolized Daians, but I created her. I know her better than anyone, and do you know what I think?”

  Athel shook her head sorrowfully.

  “I think she would have looked up to you, Athel Forsythia. I think you would have been her hero.”

  He stood up and walked away, leaving the book balanced on her arms. She sat there by herself, the wind caressing the leaves around her.

  It hurts so much…

  Slowly, almost imperceptibly, her fingers curled around the book, and pulled it in close to her.

  * * *

  Kahn Alakaneezer of Iso slammed his furry white paw against the command table before them, causing the crystal lamps around the room to flicker and shift in place. “We’re going about this the wrong way,” he argued, his fangs glistening, “we should divide the invasion force into six parts and attack each of the outer islets simultaneously.”

  “That would be needlessly wasteful,” King Turino of Artice retorted, adjusting his monocle. Alakaneeser sat back and folded his enormous arms proudly. “My warriors can take one of those islets unopposed. If your forces are so feckless that you are required to back down from a challenge…”

  “This isn’t a competition,” King Frians of Hoeun said, flicking at his dreadlocks. “Trying to prove what an alpha male you are will only deplete our forces. We have three rings of defenses to push through before we can even get to the monolith.”

  All the Alliance Council members looked down at the detailed chart of Boeth, encircled by hexagons of defensive islets.

  “I honestly don’t see what would be gained by smashing all six of them,” Kaiser Duncan of Almany shared, his clockwork prosthetics whirring. “The original plan called for us to only take out two of the outer ring islets to allow the fleet to slip through.”

  “The original plan had all of Hatronesia on our side, not slaughtering my people,” Regent Kowless of Paxillus said, his mandibles clicking in outrage.

  “We do have a handful of them,” King Dolan of Madaringa said, opening his mouth and waiting for Rachael to place a grape inside. She rolled her eyes and reluctantly did so.

  “Yes, we do have them, and they should stand trial for war crimes!” Kowless clicked.

  “That would be a meaningless gesture at this point.”

  “The lives of my people are not meaningless!”

  Turino took a sip of tea. “Turning away sorcerers willing to help us and putting them on trial on the eve of the invasion is ludicrous.”

  King Issha of Tirrak was more diplomatic. “Regent Kowless, look, what happened to your people…no to our people, because we are all one allied people now…” He looked around at everyone with his reptilian eyes to ram to point home. “…what happened was a tragedy, but the Hatronesians were only following direct orders from their god. How can we punish them for that? Any one of us would have done the same.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Chief Maaturro said, scratching at the white hairs poking out through his wooden armor. “Until he earns my trust back, Tidnaa can kiss my feet for all I care.”

  Proconsul Neriise nodded, causing his long mustache to ripple. “Same with Demeres. She did nothing while Ericsdale fell into the sea. Why should I bow to her wishes without question?”

  Precept Nolocauss of Timmeron held up his hand. “Don’t blaspheme. We need all the divine help we can get right now. We have only one opportunity to attack the monolith. If it fails, we are all doomed.”

  King Buni of Hazari scratched behind his ear with his hind leg. “So, we switch to the backup plan.”

  “The backup plan called for thousands of shadow mines,” President Kaln of Sutor said, adjusting his finely crafted spectacles.

  “How many did we manage to make off with?”

  Chief Maaturro looked down sadly. “Only two.”

  “Ugh!”

  Kaln tried to remain hopeful. “All right, then, we go to the backup backup plan.”

  “There is no backup backup plan.”

  “Well, there should have been!”

  Prince Francisque of Mesda stepped forward, his tall ears twitching. “Perhaps we are overthinking this. The Eriia are basically like oversized cavalry, we should just form up into a wedge and break straight through.”

  Guru Inthanos of Chidd nearly fell out of his chair and onto his shell. “Bunching up? The second ring has those caves that can spray jets of seawater. We’d just allow them to hit the whole fleet at once.”

  “All right…so, we go fast.”

  “We can’t go fast,” King Frians chuckled darkly, fingering his Beastmaster necklace.

  “Frians is right,” Neriise affirmed. “The biggest problem is that our Eriia can carry a lot of weight, but they are ponderously slow. They won’t be able to dodge any of the incoming fire.”

  “It’s not like an airship could,” Duncan remarked.

  Frians laughed. “An airship isn’t a living beast that panics and rolls when it’s injured.”

  “He’s right; they are like cavalry. You don’t have to kill the armored knight, all you have to do is wound the horse and it panics. Everything comes crashing down.”

  “We can’t make a run on the guns without the Eriia getting hurt; they’re not fast enough,” Duke Relivan of Saint Seychell complained, the huge feather in his hat flicking in Frians’ face.

  King Frians batted the feather away. “And not even my magic can force an Eriia to stay still and stoic while it’s being shot full of holes.”

  The Council leaders all looked at each other uncertainly.

  King Turino took off his monocle. “So…what do we do? We arrive in less than a week.”

  President Kaln looked down at the charts worriedly. “I…I don’t know.”

  There was a furtive knock from outside. The guards opened the door, revealing a frail-looking Wysterian woman standing on the other side, clutching Albashire’s book in her arms.

  Everyone stopped their fretting and turned. Every eye was upon her.

  Athel stepped in sheepishly. “I…uh…” she began, her lip trembling. “I know I’m not a queen anymore…”

  They made no response. She withered under their gaze.

  “…and I’m sorry I wasn’t completely forthcoming when we created the Alliance…”

  She wanted nothing more than to turn and run.

  “…but, if you’ll still have me, I think I might have an idea.”

  King Buni gave a big grin, revealing his canines as his short stubby tail wagged. “Well, all right then, let’s hear it.”

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” Kahn Alakaneezer praised, striding abreast and slapping her on the back so hard it nearly knocked her over.

  Athel grimaced, her stitches on fire.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  As she approached, Prince Francisque lifted his gloved hands and began clapping. Princess Turion and Guru Inthanos joined in the supportive applause. Chief Maaturro and Naanie put their fingers in their mouths and whistled a cheer.

  Athel managed a weak smile as she was led up to the command table.

  “So, what’s the first step?” King Orens’shaw of Lahiti said, smoothing back his mane.

  Athel closed her eyes and took a deep breath, tryi
ng desperately to shove aside her fears. The stitches over her heart burned brightly beneath her bandages.

  For Alder, for Privet, and for Nikki. I’ll try again. Milia, please don’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.

  She opened her hazel eyes. “First, we’re going to diversify our crews. Instead of placing all the Sutorians in one formation, and all the Hazarians in another, for example, we’re going to spread them around, so there’s at least one on each Eriia.”

  The leaders all looked at each other hesitantly.

  Athel looked up at them. “Do you think they can handle working together like that in mixed units?

  Issha looked around and nodded his scaly head, his long tongue flicking out. “Yes…yes I think they can.”

  “We’ll make it happen,” Kaiser Duncan affirmed with a grin.

  Kahn Alakaneezer slammed his clawed fist into his paw. “If they refuse, I’ll twist their arms until they submit.”

  Athel nodded. “Okay, the next step involves the Hatronesians. We’re going to make two special attack wings of six Eriia each. I need your best people for these, your most skilled mages…”

  The command platform rocked, throwing chairs and charts about. Everyone had to grab hold of something to keep their footing.

  King Vilmas of Korsica poked his head up, his colorful beak snapping worriedly. “Suni’s feathers, what was that?”

  Mina ran to the doorway and looked in, panting. “We have a problem.”

  As the Alliance leaders made their way atop the command platform, the fleet of Eriia around them moaned and caterwauled. The Beastmasters could barely keep their fear contained.

  The entire formation had come to a halt. Before them, the clouds were rearranging themselves into a pair of enormous figures. One, a figure of frost, icicles like a porcupine covering his body. The other a tall Amazon, her skin glowing like the morning sun. The massive Eriia were little more than mice before their size.

  Mina’s ears dropped, her mouth hanging open. “It’s the god Jabint and the goddess Celina.”

  All the Mesdans and Articians in the invasion force dropped to their knees in worship. Most of the others recoiled in fear.