Prince Francisque stepped forward, elated beyond measure. “Oh, great goddess, you are wise and benevolent. I cannot express my gratitude that you would bless us with your presence, to aid us in this most dire hour.”
Celina shook her head. “We have not come to fight for you.”
Francisque’s tail wrapped around his leg. “You…haven’t?”
“We have come to bring you word on behalf of all the gods,” Jabint declared, his icy voice shrill against the air. “You are commanded to turn aside now, and return to your lands immediately. So say us all.”
“So say we all,” Celina affirmed.
All the soldiers looked at one another in terror. Everyone was deathly silent.
Chief Maaturro stepped forward. “But…but why would you oppose us? The Rubric of the Stone Council is your common enemy. It threatens your lands and your people, the entire world.”
Celina held up a glowing fist, her voice a crack like thunder. “Do not pretend to council us, mortal,” she bellowed.”
Everyone dropped down at the terrible power of her explosive voice. The Eriia mewed in horror, threatening to scatter.
“The magic that you wield, the very breath of life that exists inside of you, they are a gift from us. We may give them and we may take them at our whim. They belong to us, and we will do with them as we please. You were created to serve us, not the other way around. It is clear to us that this world was a mistake. You have forgotten your place, and so we will begin anew.”
This declaration was like a blow to the head to everyone who heard it. Ambassadors and diplomats fell on their haunches, stunned beyond measure. Hardened soldiers collapsed to their knees, their hopes dashed like so much dust. Everywhere a blanket of despair descended down upon them, shocking in both its intensity and suddenness.
Only Proconsul Neriise dared speak up. “You are to abandon us to death, then? We are all to drown beneath the encroaching seas?”
For a moment, the two gods looked at one another in hesitation.
They held out their mighty hands. “We have a token we were bidden to show you.”
Suddenly Mina screamed as if she were being torn apart from the inside. It startled everyone so much they backed away from her as she fell to the deck, clutching at her heart.
Captain Evere and Athel ran up to her as she convulsed in agony. Light was ripped from her bursting soul, rising up and soaking into the hands of the gods. When it stopped, she was left there, broken in her husband’s arms.
Mina gasped and opened her lavender eyes, her whole soul shivering. “It’s…it’s gone.”
“What’s gone?”
Tears began forming in her eyes. “It’s completely gone…everything…they tore it out of me…”
Evere turned to the gods, his black eyes pulsating with anger. “You wretched eldritch beasts, what did you do to her?”
“We have permanently stripped her of her magic,” Jabint explained.
Everyone who saw staggered from the impact of what they had just seen.
Captain Evere roared in anger, pulling out his rifle and firing without thinking. The shot passed harmlessly through the cloudy form of Celina.
“Listen well, mortals,” the goddess proclaimed. “That was a warning. Any of you who attempt to use our magic against Boeth will be stripped as well. Turn back now. So say we all.”
“So say we all,” Jabint affirmed.
If they wavered before, this final declaration shattered the will and resolve of everyone in the task force. Hardened sailors wept openly. Many prostrated themselves, begging forgiveness, pleading for mercy, but none was offered and none was given.
Kahn Alazaneezer looked up at the sky, disbelief and despair on his face. “The gods…have abandoned us?”
Duke Relivan gloomily took off his hat. “It’s over…everything is lost.”
King Issha brought his knees up to his chin, wrapping his tail around himself. “They’ve given up on this world. We weren’t good enough for them.”
Evere’s rifle dropped from his hands and he collapsed on his wife, holding her close to him, his tears mixing with hers as they wept together.
Athel placed her hands over her face, her heart breaking under the strain. There was no warmth in the sun anymore.
Every time I try, the people I care about get hurt.
She fell to her knees. Her heart burned in her chest. The pain was so bad, it threatened to stop beating. Athel gagged, clutching at her stitches, unable to breathe.
Every time…
The clouds began to dissipate, returning to their natural state. As they boiled away, Celina glanced at Athel in satisfaction. “See? It’s just like she said,” she mentioned to Jabint.
She?
The gods disappeared, leaving the task force alone and grieving in the cold skies.
Athel gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. Struggling, she put one foot under herself, and fought her way onto her feet. “This is Spirea’s doing,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “She’s behind this, I can feel it.”
“Feel it?” Guru Inthanos asked, his nose poking out from his shell.
Athel wiped her face angrily. “They were lying to us. They claim to speak for all the gods, but Milia has been unconscious for nearly a year now. She couldn’t have been a part of this decision.”
“Gods can’t lie, can they?”
“What’s more, they were scared. Couldn’t you sense it?”
“Can gods get scared?”
“It would appear that they can. And if they can be scared, that means they can be…”
Her body straining, her heart cracking, her tears pattering against her dress, Athel painfully climbed atop a barrel, and looked out over the weeping and broken people on the platform. The howdah on every Eriia around her mirrored the same sentiment. Men and women, their faces bereft of hope. A forlorn people, an abandoned people. A people with no future. A world dying, and their hearts dying with it. Their sorrow found no words, only a mournful moan, a corpse noise, an escaping of air from compression and weight, but without life or warmth.
“It’s over…” Regent Kowless whispered wretchedly. “This world will be erased; no memory or record of it having ever existed will remain. It has all been for naught.”
“It’s hopeless,” King Buni whimpered. “Even the gods have given up on us.”
Athel reached back and pulled out her braid. Her auburn red hair was freed, and blew tangled in the wind.
“People of Aetria!” she called out, clutching her lacerated heart. Her voice rang out above the wind, clear strong, and commanding. But it was not her mother’s voice, nor was it the voice of her youth, but a combination of the two.
It was her voice.
“My name is Athel Forsythia. You have followed me this far. Will you follow me a bit farther?”
King Frians looked up; there was no joy in his eyes. “How can we oppose the will of the gods?”
“And what then?” Athel shouted. “Are we to go home and hide in our basements, cowering wretches until the seas come and claim our lives? Are we to tell our families that we had a chance to break the curse on the seas, but we decided to turn around instead of try? If we give up, we are already dead, all of us. But, if we fight, we have a chance to win.”
Athel lifted up her arms. “Arise! Arise men and women of Aetria. Do not lie down and die, stand up, get on your feet, and fight!”
King Turino looked up, despondently. “This is the end, why try?”
“Perhaps you are right. But, if this is to be our end. If this world is to be erased, wiped clean by the seas. If the gods have truly decided that we are no longer worth the bother and they have resigned themselves to start over, then I would have us make such an end, that it will be forever carved in their memories and hearts. I would have us fight them so hard, oppose them with
such ferocity and will, that they will wait a thousand times over before trying this again.”
She pointed to King Frians. “How dare we oppose them? I say, how dare they condemn us?! I say, how dare they call us their children if they are to treat us so spitefully! We do not owe them our loyalty, they have to earn it! If they want us to bow to them, they must first be worthy of our knees.”
Her heart seized painfully in her chest, but she forced herself to stay on her feet. “We are the people of this world. These lives we have may be a gift, but they belong to us now, and we will fight for what is ours. We will not go quietly into our graves. We will not simply lie down and accept our extinction.”
Proconsul Neriise looked up at her, wanting to believe. “But…they have abandoned us.”
“Well, you know what I say? I say, if they have abandoned us, then that makes us free. Free to chart our own course, and carve out our own place. And if we are free, then how should we use that freedom? Shall we cower in fear, awaiting our own demise? Or, shall we stand up and fight for our lives? If your children were here right now, looking into your eyes in this very moment, what would they have you do? Would they have you tremble in defeat, or would they have you fight for them?”
“Arise, people of Aetria! We are abandoned, but we are not alone. The gods will not fight for us, so I say we will fight for each other. We will fight for the person on our left, and the person on our right. We have the strength of our backs and the will in our hearts, and we will use them to fight for our right to live.”
Kahn Alakaneezer clenched his fist and rose to his feet, his eyes quavering. “Right now, my son is back home, hiding beneath his bed, praying for me. My son…he would want me to fight.”
“Aye,” King Buni agreed, rising to his feet. “I promised my daughter I’d be back for her tenth birthday, and I mean to keep my promise.”
King Frians stood up. “My sisters are tending the vineyards for harvest. They are counting on me. I can’t let them down.”
“Yes,” Kaiser Duncan said, standing tall. “So long as there is a will, there is still hope.”
Athel raised her fist for all to see. “ARISE! ARISE PEOPLE OF AETRIA, AND FIGHT FOR WHAT IS OURS! FIGHT FOR YOUR CHILDREN, YOUR SPOUSES, YOUR PEOPLE, ALL THAT YOU HOLD DEAR! FIGHT!”
A scattering of people stood up, and lifted their fists into the air.
“Fight!” they cheered weakly in return.
“FIGHT!”
More stood up, adding their weight to the throng, their voices becoming stronger. “Fight!” they called back.
“FIGHT!”
The rest arose, men and women with tears in their eyes, raising their hands as one. “Fight!” they screamed back, echoing her.
Despite everything that had happened to her. Despite everything she had lost. Despite her injuries. Despite everything that had been taken away from her, Athel stood before them, inspiring them to try again. She seemed to them like a monolith of courage. Even Captain Evere stood up, Mina in his arms. His cheeks wet, he raised up his own fist.
“FIGHT!” the entire task force shouted as one. The very heavens shook at the strength of it.
Without orders, all the Eriia turned to the west and flew as one towards Boeth, the home of the Stonemasters, determined to either save the world, or die trying.
Chapter Nineteen
Ryberts fell over dead, his body rapidly dissolving into the lake of black shakes around them.
“I accept your apology,” Queen Sotol cooed in her stone throne, licking the blood from her fingers which had stretched into long black talons.
Reaching down with her other hand, she scooped up five drops of squirming tar.
The other leaders of the Kabal looked on in horror. Only Dev’in and Blair seemed cool and collected.
Tigera ignored it all, studying carefully the complex chess board before him. “Castling?” he asked.
The Queen shook her head as she let the drops fall onto her tongue. “You cannot castle while in check.”
Dejected, Tigera slid his king aside, exactly where he knew she wanted it to be.
“Number eight…” Jennat snarled.
“Its number four now, actually,” Queen Sotol corrected.
“Number…four,” she continued in disgust. “We just got a message from our observation posts. The invasion force from Wysteria is approaching.”
Queen Sotol picked up her rook and slammed it down. “Time for the next move.”
* * *
“Land-Ho!” the spotter on the command platform called out. Hundreds more echoed the call, like a ripple in a pond amongst the fleet of Eriia swimming through the skies. Gun doors were opened, cannons were loaded and slid into place. Formations were tightened, flags were raised.
In the past, it was customary for even League navy ships to fly only the color of her captain’s island. But, here only one flag flew, the Alliance banner created by Nikki, comprising the symbols of not just the islands in the Alliance, but of all the people of Aetria in a great ring, unbroken, unending.
Athel stood on the command platform, Talliun on one side of her, the Spiritweaver Andolf Kummeritas on the other. No longer was she wearing the royal gowns she had donned for so long, but instead a smart, grey Alliance uniform. No rank insignia adorned her collar. There hadn’t been time to make one. In the past that might have bothered her, but she was past caring about such things. Besides, in a way it felt right like this.
“Are you ready, Mister Kummeritas?” she asked.
The elderly man opened his silver eyes. “Yes, all the spirits are in place.”
“I thank you for helping me. I know it must not be easy to violate your people’s tradition of neutrality.”
He thoughtfully stroked his purple whiskers. “I don’t see it that way. Officially, I am making my services available to both sides in this battle. All are free to come and use my abilities as they see fit to.”
“And unofficially?”
He smiled warmly. “The Whilinham Confederacy is in danger too.”
Athel nodded and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Can everyone hear me?”
Green signal flags were raised from every Eriia, indicating that they could, the spirits instantly relaying her voice to them.
“Very good.”
Athel took in a deep breath. Her stitches hurting her, she reached up and ran her fingers over them, running like a jagged scar over her heart. Despite the dire situation, she allowed herself to think about the people below deck for a moment. Privet, Alder and Mina sleeping in their beds. Evere caring for them, along with Ash and Trillium.
For you, I will try one last time.
In the forward gunnery pit, Ryin set his sights and adjusted them carefully, the domed surface of the two nearest defensive islets becoming visible, like great black marbles rising up out of the broiling seas. One to the left, and another to the right.
For a moment, he caught himself looking over at Ellie as she helped the loader in her gunnery pit. As if she could sense him, she turned around, and for a second their eyes caught each other’s.
They both turned away, embarrassed and sad.
“I estimate we’ll reach the weapons range of their Hollens-cannon in thirty seconds,” Rachael reported, lowering her spyglass.
Athel breathed in deeply. “Thirty seconds…”
Talliun removed a peach from her pack and took a bite. “That means they still have thirty seconds to surrender,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.
Athel chuckled and placed her hand back on Andolf’s shoulder. “All Chidd Imageweavers, activate your circles!”
Guru Inthanos nodded, the carvings in his shell glowing brightly as he touched the intricate layered pattern he had drawn with sand on the deck before him.
They watched as the Eriia before them was bathed in bright, alchemical circles. Th
eir ancient glowing runes burned to life, spinning in the air around them. The sky whale mewed and then split into ten copies of itself.
More circles burned to life around each sky whale in the fleet as their Imageweavers did the same.
* * *
Inside the defensive islets, Stonemasters waited in anticipation, the cannons they manned so large that the people were like ants on their scaffolding.
“The fleet is in range!” came the call from the spotters above.
The commander raised his hammer over his head, and the impossibly thick stone of the domed roof above them opened like an iris. “Prepare to fire!” he shouted.
“Sir, the number of targets is increasing!”
“What?”
The commander shoved the squat man aside and the stone became transparent so he could see. There in the air, the number of sky whales was doubling, then tripling, then quadrupling again. Hundreds of thousands of whales filled the sky so completely that it blocked out the sun.
The gunners looked at their commander, unsure of what to do.
“Which ones do we aim at?”
The commander was speechless.
“Sir? Sir, they’re coming closer!”
He ground his teeth. “I…I don’t know. Just…just shoot at everything!”
* * *
From the command platform, Athel looked on as the two defensive islets erupted in a hail of cannon and rocket. So many bolts and shells struck out towards them, it was like watching rain fall. Streaks of hot shell whizzed through the air, passing harmlessly through the illusions and streaking off into the distance. Rockets corkscrewed through the sky whales, searching for anything to trigger their detonation as they passed though the copies.
There was an explosion to her left. The Eriia squealed in pain, her entire form bathed in fire as a rocket found its mark. Crippled, she fell down out of the sky with her screaming crew, plunging into the thirsting seas.
“It’s like we feared,” Talliun observed. “Our float stone belts don’t work anymore either.”
Rachael stepped away from the edge of the platform, fearful of falling overboard.
Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles Page 56
