To the east, the sky grew momentarily dark as a Tirrakian Bireme gathered together the sunlight around it and released it as a tight beam, slicing straight through the trunk of one of the taller trees. Its severed top section fell into the burning forest below. Under the influence of several Treesingers, one tree grew up tall and straight, piercing through the center of the Bireme like a lance, tossing the ship’s rowers in all directions before slowly plummeting into the forest below.
To the west, a Paxillus Plague-Ship released clouds of death into the forest below it. Purple streams of toxin that caused everything it touched to shrivel and wither.
“Admiral, their defenses are shattered. Should I signal their leaders and demand their surrender?” Nicole asked hopefully.
Admiral Roapes laughed, an unusual reaction for him. “Nikki, do you really think the Stone Council would allow me to get away with simply giving these rebels a bloody nose? No, an example must be made. We must make sure that any time another island even thinks of defying the Stone Council, they will think on this day and be so filled with terror they are cowed into abandoning the idea completely.”
“Were those their exact words?” Nicole asked, terrified.
“Almost,” Roapes said, taking a long swig of wine. “They mentioned that to rule by fear is to rule completely.”
Nicole couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She had joined the Navy to help people, to save lives. As she looked out on the pillars of smoke and embers rising up from the dying forest, she couldn’t help but feel responsible for being part of such a cruelty.
“And what if they signal their surrender?” she asked.
Admiral Roapes leaned back and received a chocolate placed in his mouth by Jessica’s long slender fingers. “The Stone Council commands us to ignore any such communication.”
Nicole could only turn away. She felt like throwing up.
With the entire southern forest ablaze, the Navy ships now turned north. Before them was the impressive sight of Cliffrose, the Wysterian capital. The Royal Tree towered above everything else, more than two miles high, its branches opened up like a canopy above the capital, as if it were a mother protecting her children.
“Incoming message from Stretis, Miguelito,” Rachael announced, filing her nails.
Admiral Roapes looked overwhelmingly pleased with himself as the image of Erin Strelan magically flickered to life before him on the bridge.
“I trust the battle is going well?” Erin asked, nonchalantly taking the tip of her braid and flicking it back and forth against her nose.
“It could not be otherwise. I have fought with all the skill and strength I posses,” Admiral Roapes boasted, as if he had done everything himself. “The bark-lickers’ capital is within our sights. The battle will be over in a number of hours.”
“Excellent,” Erin said. “I will inform the Stone Council of our success. You have permission to proceed to Phase two.”
The image of the Dutchess faded before them.
“Nikki, signal all ships to assume attack formation mesai on the capital.”
“Um...Aye, sir,” Nicole responded weakly, trying to shut out the horror around her.
“Admiral, someone has climbed to the top of the largest tree,” the ship’s bosun called out as he looked through his telescope.
Nicole pulled out her own spyglass and looked at well. Dressed in pure white, a woman stood at the highest point, her cape of flowers fluttering in the breeze. “It’s Queen Forsythia,” Nicole confirmed.
The viewport became filled with light, forcing everyone to shield their eyes with their hands.
“Pilot, turn us away from the sun,” Admiral Roapes ordered.
“The sun is to our portside,” the pilot confirmed.
“Then what is that?”
Slowly, the light concentrated itself into the visage of a woman. As tall as the Royal Tree itself, she hung floating in the air. Her skin and clothes glowed with divine radiance, brighter than the sun.
“What is that?” Rachael asked, slowly uncovering her eyes.
“It isn’t the Queen. It’s Milia, their goddess,” Nicole realized aloud.
Milia closed her eyes and sidestepped, becoming one with The Royal Tree. Both overlapped each other, existing at the same time. When the visage of Milia raised her arms, the tree raised its mighty branches.
Admiral Roapes stood up, his eyes alight with ambition. “Nikki,” signal all ships ahead full.” A twisted and sadistic smile crossed his face. “Today, my friends, we go down in the history books. Today, we are going to kill a goddess.”
* * *
Alder backed up slowly as his copy circled in towards him. He scurried round a bronze cauldron, placing it between them. His copy grinned evilly and drew out a rusted blade.
“Bad form, I must protest,” Alder said, pointing his finger. “I don’t even have a sword, so why would my copy have one?”
Alder’s copy stabbed at him, but Athel interjected herself, blocking the attack with the flat of her blade.
Mina’s copy flanked Athel and sliced at her midsection with her claws. Athel twisted to avoid it, but it still grazed her back, sliding along the armor plating of her combat gown.
This is bad. If I wasn’t wearing armor she'd have sliced me open.
“Great Mother, your claws are sharp, Mina,” Athel swore, ducking under another swipe.
“Sorry about that,” the real Mina apologized, sidestepping an attack.
Another set of copies rose up from the mirrors, then another. Between the copies and all the reflections, the room seemed endlessly filled with opponents, slowly circling in.
“This is too many, we need to make a break for it,” Evere cautioned, blocking a blow from the side. The corridor they had entered from faded away, replaced by more mirrors, through which more copies stepped through.
“Oh, this is just great!” Athel complained as she caught a blade in a hilt lock. “First I got hit by lightning by that dog guy.”
“Murphi,” Alder corrected, placing himself behind Athel.
“Then I had to fight that shapeshifter twig,” Athel huffed, wrenching her hilt to one side, freeing her weapon just in time to block a slice from the side.
“I believe Mandi was her name.”
Athel turned around, fire in her eyes. “I don’t care what their names are!”
A copy of Mina kicked Athel in the back, knocking her and Alder to the mirrored floor. Athel looked up just in time to see copies of Privet and Evere stabbing their weapons straight down at them. Athel grabbed Alder and rolled, barely avoiding being skewered as the tips hit the floor.
* * *
Milia had become one with the royal tree. With her massive hand, she reached out and grabbed a trio of Navy Interceptors as if they were nothing more than toys and flipped them over, their crews slowly falling down to the forest below, before crushing the ships into dust and splinters with the palms of her hands.
Thousands of ships fired their cannons into Milia. The smaller shells did little more than embed themselves into bark, but the mortars did far more damage, exploding within her, and tearing out large sections of living wood and leaving deep wounds behind.
Around her the ships swarmed, like a mass of angry insects. Milia swiped her hand, swatting several out of the air, but thousands more remained. Tirrakian beam ships cut deeply into her; Lightning Galleons struck her repeatedly, setting large sections of her body on fire. Back and forth, Milia thrashed to defend her forest and her daughters, striking three and four ships at a time, but on and on they came. Fumes and smoke from tens of thousands of cannons covered the island in a thick haze of black, sulfurous clouds.
Volley after volley slammed into Milia. Weaker now, she battled on, her limbs trembling with pain as she lashed out at the airships breaking their masts and cracking their hulls, yet failing to destroy them. The Indominable came about directly in front of her, so close that the smoke from her burning body clogged the view of the gunnery crews.
With a thunderous roar, the Indomitable released a broadside directly into Milia’s chest. For a moment, all became still, then slowly, Milia brought her hands up, clutching the deep wound over her heart. Agony crossed her face, and her lips moved, as if to speak, to plead on behalf of her daughters, but her voice was lost in the thunder of cannon fire. Slowly, she began to fall. Like a mountain, she came crashing to her knees. The earth shook and the seas beyond rippled from the shock wave.
Great silver tears ran down Milia’s cheeks falling to the ground below, but The Navy ships showed no mercy. They fired into her burning and broken body. Like spiteful carrion they relished the destruction they created, the pain they were inflicting.
* * *
“This is bad,” Ryin complained as he backed up towards a wall, cradling his injured arm, which had taken a nasty cut at the elbow. “I can’t tell which one of you are the real ones and which ones are the copies.”
“I'll give you a hint, I’m the one who is bleeding,” Evere coughed. With one hand, he fought off a trio of Minas, and with the other hand he held his side, his uniform stained red with blood.
Privet forced his opponent’s blade to the floor, then came up just in time to block a slice aimed at his head. He spun around and instinctively raised his saber to attack a new opponent. Margaret shrieked in fear and dropped down, covering her head with her hands.
“Oh, sorry,” Privet apologized.
Athel and Alder were being forced back towards the wall. Athel blocked one slash with her blade, but another attack caught her in the shoulder. Her armor turned the blade, but she was thrown off balance.
Dr. Griffin yelped and fell, gripping a deep stab wound in his thigh.
A copy of Ryin caught Athel at the back of the knee, where there was no armor. She screamed in pain, amber-colored blood gushing from her wound as she fell to the ground. Her saber clattered behind her.
Evere bellowed in pain as a cutlass from his own copy chopped deeply into his shoulder.
Mina was knocked to the ground by a copy of Ryin, his blade held tight against her throat.
Athel tried to roll herself upright, but two copies of Privet grabbed her arms and held her down flat on her back. A third copy of Privet stood over her and lifted his blade to finish her off.
“Leave her alone!” Alder commanded, his voice uncommonly deep and forceful. He snatched up Athel’s blade from where it had fallen and lifted it up over his head as if to chop at the apparitions. But the weight of the weapon put him off balance, and he fell awkwardly backwards onto the floor.
Athel’s face fell. “My hero,” she said sarcastically.
But the third Privet copy did not strike her. Instead, it stepped back, clutching a wound placed at its heart, a dark purple light emanating from within.
“How did you do that?” Athel asked, craning her neck around to see Alder.
“I-I’m not sure,” Alder admitted as he rose to his knees.
Athel looked underneath him, and saw that her blade had cracked a mirror with its point when Alder had fallen.
“The mirror,” Athel gasped. “Do it again!”
Alder jammed the blade down and this time, the mirror shattered. The other two Privet copies released her, clutching injuries across their chests.
“The mirrors, break the mirrors!” Athel yelled out for all to hear.
Captain Evere stabbed his cutlass down, breaking the mirror beneath him. The copies around him clutched deep wounds on their legs and arms. Dr. Griffin pulled out a vial and tossed it forward, exploding in a flash that destroyed several mirrors. Copies all over fell to their knees, wounds across their bodies.
The copy of Ryin holding Mina dropped his weapon and reeled back, deep gashes along his shoulders and face.
“You'll want to cover your ears for this one.” Mina warned everyone as she leapt up and cupped her hands before her. Her mouth opened as if she were singing, but so sound could be heard. Instead, the energy was gathered between her hands, a nearly invisible compressed ball that grew larger and larger in her grasp.
Privet spun at an attack from a copy of Athel and smashed the mirror beneath him.
Mina released the sonic energy, a beautiful, single note that radiated out in a glowing sphere. In its wake, the mirrors shattered, a wave of broken glass that encompassed the entire room. The remaining copies exploded into a purple dust that slowly diminished as if fell through the air, disappearing long before any of it reached the ground.
The crew of the Dreadnaught looked around at each other. Slowly, the artificial room around them faded and the reality took shape. Before them stood the enormous prism stream that powered the Navy’s communications. It grew up out of the obsidian floor as long hexagonal crystals, each the size of a house, arranged in a fan shape, vaguely resembling a pipe organ. Shadowy faces moved through the crystal facets, sometimes in pain, other times with an expression of pleading.
No order was given; they all knew what to do. Mina charged up a sonic blast. Evere, Privet, and Ryin loaded and readied their rifles. Dr. Griffin pulled out several explosive vials. Alder tossed a seed to Athel and she dropped it to the ground, using her staff to grow a trio of powerful, sinuous barbed vines that wound themselves together like a drill, ready to strike.
As one, they released their attacks and the crystals shattered. Spectral cries flowed out in all directions. The broken fragments melted into a black tar that splattered to the floor, bubbling and hissing.
“Black shakes,” Athel realized. “The whole thing was made out of black shakes.”
The pool of tar flowed out across the floor. Afraid to let it touch them, the crew of the Dreadnaught backed away. Margaret summoned a wind that cleared the floor nearest them.
When the tar washed over the vines Athel had grown, they thrashed about wildly.
Athel screamed as she clutched her staff. Her long red hair flew out in al directions as purple and black crackles of energy swirled around her.
“Athel, let go of you staff,” Privet warned.
“I-I can’t,” Athel yelled, falling to her knees. Her body shook violently, amber blood trickling from her ears and nose.
“We have to break her link to the vines,” Alder instructed. Without hesitation, Privet drew his blade and hacked. Athel’s staff broke in half, then disintegrated. She fell backwards into Alder’s arms.
The vines withered and died from their contact with the black shakes.
Slowly everyone backed away, dragging Athel until they reached a safe distance from the expanding pool of black shakes.
Alder was white with worry as he held his wife in his arms, gently stroking her freckled cheek until she finally opened her beautiful brown eyes.
“It...it felt like my soul was being sucked straight out of me,” Athel whispered.
* * *
Milia’s tears fell to the ground, enraging the remaining trees of the forest. They fought back with a power and vigor that was shocking to behold. Without any regard for their own safety, trees uprooted themselves, leaping up into the air and wrapping themselves around airships, dragging them to the ground by their own weight and bulk. Some trees, already on fire, intentionally wrapped themselves around two or three Navy ships and drew them in close, attempting to light the airships on fire with their own burning bodies.
“Admiral, I can’t signal any of our flagships,” Nicole called out as The Indomitable was pulled hard to starboard by a pair of uprooted trees attempting to flip her over with their mass.
“They must have damaged the prism stream.” Admiral Roapes said as he clung to his chair, the entire room listing heavily to one side. “Engage the backups, Nikki.”
Rachael lost her footing and slid across the floor, pinning one of the pilots against the wall and spilling nail polish all over the both of them
“I already have,” Nicole reported, clutching the map podium. “The entire communications artery is down. I can’t signal anyone.”
There was a horrible scre
ech of twisting metal. The room shook violently, then snapped to the other side. Jessica was thrown against the opposite wall, only to have Rachael and the pilot slide across the floor and land on top of her.
Nicole looked up and saw a terrible sight. A burning tree was falling away towards the blazing forest below, clutching in its branches a huge section of the gun deck that it had managed to tear free. Terrified sailors fell around it like leaves.
Through the forward viewport, she could see the dying form of Milia, struggling to right herself.
“Give her another volley,” Admiral Roapes ordered, his eyes alight. “We've almost got her!”
“There has been damage to the portside stone array,” Nicole reported, trying to make sense of the dozens of voices screaming into the call-tubes. “We must withdraw.”
The ship jerked to one side, tossing Admiral Roapes out of his command chair. Steam tracers burst, filling the room with a searing white mist.
“I said volley fire!” Roapes said, emerging from the mist like a demon. “Follow my commands!”
Nicole froze. She had always been taught that there was no such thing as evil, that there were merely other cultures, other points of view. But, standing above the call-tubes filled with screaming voices, the dying form of Milia before her, the screaming visage of Admiral Roapes behind her, her heart told her that this was evil.
“I'll do it myself,” Admiral Roapes barked, shoving Nicole back. Nicole thudded to the floor painfully as Admiral Roapes thundered into the call-tubes. “All gun decks, continue fire!”
Another volley of mortar shells struck out from the Indomitable into Milia. Her whole body trembled and shook with pain as the devastating weapons tore away deep, exposed parts of her body.
Just then, there was a clanging of metal on metal, something Nicole had not heard before during this battle of wood and vine. Struggling to her feet, she looked out the viewport with her telescope. Flashes of cannon-fire caught her attention, followed by more impacts. Below them were groups of Wysterians, men by their shabby appearance. In teams of four and five, they were running fearlessly out into the burning forest, and bringing back salvaged cannon from the crashed Navy ships. Dragging them to the feet of Milia, they loaded and fired them towards The Indomitable. More than two dozen were already firing, with twice as many being setup around the goddess.
Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen Page 10
