Ikkchit threw up her stony hands. “This is madness! Why would they listen when our words have no teeth?”
“It will be your responsibility to earn their trust and their love. Treat them kindly. Protect them, care for them. Shelter them, and you will find that they may follow your words with more care and loyalty than they ever did out of fear.”
Quetah balked, but Zelica was more reasonable.
“No, she’s right. It is a better way.”
“These are our children,” Milia argued, stepping forward, her flowered hair floating around her. “They are a part of us, and we are a part of them. We owe them our love, our kindness.”
Veritus stepped forward as well. “We have not dealt justly with our children. And what has it gained us? The fear and hatred of the mortals. Look at them. They’d rather die than continue to serve us. And it’s our fault they feel that way.”
The gods looked around at the people gathering at the base of the tower.
“We’ve tried ruling with fear, and it didn’t work,” Veritus continued. “Let us try something else.”
The gods looked at each other, considering his words.
Odesi leaned back, meditating deeply. “There is wisdom in these words. If we continue to do what we’ve always done, we will continue to see the same results we’ve always seen.”
He opened his eyes. “I say we listen to her.”
The gods listened closely as Athel laid out the new law. “From now on, your peoples will be bound to you by the love and loyalty you earn from them or they will not be bound to you at all. Each individual may change to another god should they wish to at any time, and without reprisal.”
Vestum looked around in concern. “But they could abandon us. Without their prayers, we cannot continue to exist in this world.”
“Then you’d better care for them so they will stay. In ages past, you competed with one another with war and violence. Now, you will compete with benevolence and kindness. Those of you that excel will have more people to sustain you. Those of you who underperform will dwindle and fade. These are the new terms that will govern your interactions with mortals.”
Maa’aat folded her three sets of arms defiantly.
“Make no mistake, immortals,” Athel continued. “The Third Age is over. The reign of the gods ends now! You will either bind yourself to these terms with an unbreakable oath that limits your power and authority regarding us mortals from now until the end of time, or I swear by all that lives I WILL END YOUR EXISTENCE WITH MY OWN HAND!!!”
Quetah stepped forward, his fires blazing, his eyes full of rage.
“It would appear we have no choice.”
Chapter Fifteen
Quetah, the mighty god of fire held up his hands, and swore the oath, binding himself to each of Athel’s terms. Great bands appeared on his wrists, binding him for all time.
The peoples of Aetria slowly filtered into the city, watching in wonder as one by one the gods of Aetria stood before Athel and swore themselves to this new contract.
When it came to be Milia’s turn, she looked at Athel with gratitude. It was such a strange reaction, it even surprised Athe a bit.
“It is done,” Quetah explained. “Not even our combined strength could break the bonds that now hold us.”
“Now the rest,” Athel said cautiously, her body still taut and ready to strike, her hand poised over the trigger.
The gods formed a circle around Valpurgeiss and began to chant. Their bodies grew brighter and brighter, the light flowing out of them as if it were liquid, the golden brilliance soaking into the broken god’s form. Valpurgeiss swelled, like a dried up plant now given water. His body grew full and soft, with a long white beard like clouds, and a kindly, grandfatherly face.
Valpurgeiss sat up, and looked around, as if waking from a deep sleep.
“Where am I?”
Milia began to cry, and embraced him warmly. “Father, I’m sorry,” she breathed, holding him tightly.
Veritus fell upon him as well, breathing out words of regret through tears of remorse.
Many of the other gods broke down as well, declaring apologies and falling upon the restored god. He hugged them back, and for a long time, the mortals of Aetria watched as the gods spoke softly to one another. It was awkward at first, but gradually became friendlier. Old wounds and grudges began to melt away, and they began to speak to each other less like rivals and more like a family.
Athel waited until the sun and moon moved completely out of eclipse. The sky returned to normal, the danger had passed. The orb atop the tower faded away before vanishing completely. Only then, did she allow herself to fall on her knees and weep.
Privet sheathed his sword and held her in his arms.
Captain Evere and Mina walked up, amazed at what they had seen.
“By the waters…” Captain Evere shook his head. “Athel Forsythia, the young woman who stared down the gods, and the gods blinked first. To think I have known such a lass.”
“That was the most amazing thing I ever saw,” Mina gushed. “How in the world did you manage to bluff them like that?”
Privet held Athel as she wept, unable to hold back his own tears. “It worked because she wasn’t bluffing. She really didn’t care if she died.”
The mortals began to filter closer, and the gods sat down with their people and spoke to them. It was strange at first, and many were amazed. There was no request for tribute, no ceremony nor sacrifice. They just sat down and spoke, as one person does to another. Questions were asked, questions were answered. Gradually, things became more comfortable as time went on. This truly would be a new era, and it would take a while for things to become settled--for the new order to feel normal, but after a few hours, the atmosphere was downright pleasant. Everyone started to feel at ease. Celina even laughed at a joke and slapped Vestum on the back, surprising everyone.
Plans for reconstruction were made. There had been so much damage. So much lost. Kohta asked the Sutorians if they would be willing to donate their time to help rebuild the Paxillus capital, and they enthusiastically accepted. Poe requested that he be allowed to help as well, and was reluctantly included. It would take a long time for all the wounds to heal. So many people had been hurt, but in everyone’s heart, they began to believe things were going to get better. They knew it would happen--no--they wanted it to happen, even if it would take a while.
The air began to change. Hope, after so long living in hopelessness, felt strange at first. But gradually the warm feeling of it began to radiate again, like pure sunlight.
Food was brought out, and in a strange impromptu gathering, the gods and mortals ate together side-by- side. The mood was light, jolly even. A few people started to sing, and others played music. Cautious laughter arose, wary at first, but then more often and with more force as time went on. All over the island, the wonderful song of joy and brotherhood began to rise up around the silent, ruined tower.
The war was over, the world had been saved. Peace had returned. But, this was a new peace, a new age. Not a temporary ceasefire, but an actual end. This new age would be an age of peace, an age of wonder and exploration, an age of invention and cooperation. An age of health, of celebration, and of warmth. All could feel it coming, all wanted to see it happen, and more plans were made and more charity shown, all could tell that this time, it would last.
But there was one place where no joy could be found. At the top of the tower, Athel lay in Privet’s arms, weeping for Alder. Privet held her as tightly as he could, but what could he say?
In in his heart, he knew she would never stop crying.
* * *
JaArian closed his eyes expectantly as Valpurgeiss ran his soft kindly hands over his brow. When he removed it, twelve little specks of glowing dust rested in his hand. Valpurgeiss cupped them carefully, speaking softly, as if to a newborn, and
when his hands opened again, twelve people sat there.
They looked up, their deep blue eyes as innocent as a newborn’s. Valpurgeiss handed them to JaArian, who held them close. Everyone who saw it marveled. For the first time in a thousand years, the water tribe existed again.
The other gods cheered; the people of Aetria cheered. Valpurgeiss smiled. His face was so radiant, but a little sad too, as he looked over the gathered crowds.
Quetah stood sulking in the distance, watching carefully as Valpurgeiss waved his hand, and the river to the spirit world came descending down gently.
Milia glanced over at him and tilted her head in encouragement. Quetah’s fire flashed, then grew dim.
Reluctantly, furtively, the mighty god walked over to Valpurgeiss as he spoke with the others. But when he got there, his courage left him, and he stood silently until Valpurgeiss finally regarded him.
“What is it, my son?”
“Father…I…”
The soft, bearded god threw his arms around Quetah and embraced him. It startled Quetah so much that his flames extinguished completely. Slowly, his eyes became soft, and as he returned the embrace, they even became a little moist.
“I’m sorry, father,” he whispered. “I’m sorry about everything.”
They held each other for some time before saying their goodbyes.
Captain Evere checked over his shoulder. Mina was off in the shade of a building, humming quietly to herself as she changed Ash’s diaper. “Will you be going, then?”
Valpurgeiss looked out at the gathered gods and peoples.
“I came to this world to create a paradise. And I did. And for a while, it was perfect. Now it is gone, my children all killed, save for one.”
The gentle god reached down and set his enormous hand across Mandi’s shoulder. She leaned her head against it, resting her cheek on his warm skin. She seemed so content, for the first time in her life.
Valpurgeiss looked out again. “In my rage, I thought to wipe this world clean and create paradise anew, but now I think differently. This place is not a paradise, but it is not without value, either. You are not my children. You were created to destroy, but that is not all you are. There is honor and courage to be found in you as well.”
The kindly god turned around and looked downstream.
“I leave to find a new world. This world, I leave to you, the people of Aetria.”
Molly came up and tugged on Mandi’s sleeve.
Mandi looked down and smiled. “Whaddya say, kid? You wanna go exploring with me?”
Mandi took her hand excitedly. “Yeah!”
Molly took Mandi’s hand, and they waded with Valpurgeiss into the shallows of the waters.
Captain Evere stepped closer. He took off his hat and fidgeted with it in his hands. “Would it be all right if I asked for something before you go?”
Valpurgiess looked at him inquisitively. “Something?”
Even leaned and and whispered to him.
“Oh, I see.”
He extended his glowing finger, and Captain Evere shook it, a small flash of light bursting when they touched.
Valpurgeiss turned around one last time. There was not a dry eye as the peoples and gods of Aetria looked back at him. “Cling to one another. Fill this world with light, fill it with love, fill it with laughter, and it may yet one day become the paradise it once was. Farewell.”
He took Mandi’s hand in his, and the three of them dissolved down into the waters, their lights traveling upstream. Everyone watched as the waters gradually faded away, until they were gone.
* * *
Privet stepped into the dusty hall. There, in the shadows, he found Athel sitting quietly on her throne, feeding Ash with a bottle.
“Why are you here all alone?”
Athel opened her bloodshot eyes. “I am a Queen of Wysteria. To be a Queen, is to be alone.”
Privet tapped the living wood with the back of his knuckle, and the branches parted, letting in weak rays of sunlight from outside. She winced as the light hit her. When her eyes adjusted, she found Privet standing over her, his hand outstretched.
“Not anymore. We’re a team now, you and I.”
Athel looked at his hand, but could not find the heart to take it.
“Won’t you tell me what you’re feeling?” he asked.
“You don’t want to know what I’m feeling.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I feel old. Worn out. Tired. Like a withered old stump.”
She looked up at him, her face heavy with grief. “Why did I have to be born, Privet? What was the point?”
Privet waved his hand and the living wood beside her rose up, reshaping itself into a second throne. He plopped down into it unceremoniously.
“Maybe there was no point,” he suggested. “Maybe it was all just random chance. No prophecy, no destiny, it just happened the way it happened.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Privet shook his head. “No. I believe your birth had a purpose. And a very special one, at that.”
“And what is that?”
Privet reached out and took her hand. “So that I could have someone to love.”
Athel forced herself to smile weakly. “Thanks, Privet. I do love you; I just wish you had someone better than me.”
Privet took her head and leaned it over against his chest. She closed her eyes and savored the strong warmth she found there.
“You know, it was very merciful what you did, Athel. You gave this world another chance.”
“I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to die. I still do.”
“Then why didn’t you just end it all? You could have.”
“Because I promised Alder I’d make his dream come true.”
She looked over her throne with her good eye. “And we Forsythians always keep our word. You’ll need to learn that if you ever hope to take my surname.”
“Oh whatever. You know it doesn’t work that way anymore.”
“I know. I was trying to make a joke…it wasn’t funny.”
“Besides, what makes you think I need to earn your name? The way I see it, you need to earn mine.”
Athel managed a weak laugh. “That was better.”
“See? We’re learning stuff.”
Still holding her hand, Privet pulled her up and led her over to the veranda.
“Where are we going?”
“There’s something you need to see.”
She looked out on the beautiful forest of Wysteria. New fresh trees were sprouting, and even the older trees were taking on a lush color, greener than anyone could recall seeing in their lifetimes. Homes were being made again. They were not formed wholly from the trees as the women had once grown, nor were they the multi-leveled structures the men had built on Madaringa, but a kind of fusion of both styles, one that both and collaborated with and complimented the trees at the same time. Everywhere, there were men and women working together. Trimming the trees, pruning the undergrowth, healing the trees that remained, and honoring those that had passed.
“You see?” Privet said. “Alder isn’t really gone. He’s everywhere. This is the forest he wanted. This is the world he sacrificed himself for. This is his gift to us. To all of us.”
Athel felt her tears brimming up anew.
“But he shouldn’t have had to. The forest should have always been this way.”
“I know. But we can at least honor what he did. We achieved what we set out to do. We saved the world.”
Athel wiped her cheek. “You’re right, we did save the world. But who gets to live in it? The cowards who kept their heads down. The fence-sitters who stayed out of the fighting as long as they could. The people who were complicit in the evil that existed before.”
“Athel…”
“Oh
, they didn’t agree with it, necessarily, but they sure didn’t stand up and oppose it. Where were they when the forests of Wysteria were burning? Where were they when our people fell by the thousands in the trenches before the Monolith? When our need was greatest, when our situation was truly dire, they did nothing to help us. In the end, most of them are parasites, existing by the sacrifice and efforts of others, harvesting what they didn’t sow, and enjoying what they didn’t earn.”
Athel looked out beyond the forest to the calm and lovely seas. Though it was safe to visit the beaches now, habit kept most from doing so.
“All the noblest individuals in this world, the ones who cared enough to actually try, those whose convictions were true, they gave their lives to save this world, but they won’t ever get to live in it. Yes, the world is saved, Privet, but it is also diminished. It has been stripped of its salt, the diamonds are gone. I look out and I see a mountain whose precious ore has all been removed. Those choice bands of glittering brilliance are lost, and all that remains is common rock. All those with true valor are gone. Those that remain…I ask in my heart if they truly deserve what they have been given.”
Privet took her hand. “No, they don’t. So it falls onto those of us who remain to remind them of the cost with which their happiness was purchased, so that they may learn from the examples of those who gave all.”
Athel looked away. “I am through inspiring people. That is a job for heroes. All I want now is to be left alone. I want a quiet life, with my children and my husband.”
She squeezed his hand, grateful he was with her.
“I thought you wanted to see the world.”
“Did I? I can’t even remember anymore.”
“We can if you want to. We can sail from port to port; we can see all the wonders of the world together. I’m sure Deutzia would get a kick out of it.”
She looked down sadly. “There’s nothing out there I want to see.”
“Well, what do you want?”
Athel looked out into the horizon. It had been so long since she had the luxury of thinking about what she wanted, it felt unnatural to her. When Ash finished his bottle, she expertly laid the cloth across her shoulder, and gently burped him.
Isle of Wysteria: Throne of Chains Page 44
