Ambrosia

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  There was a rustle in the tree behind him, and the old man stood up, his eyes hidden beneath his white bushy eyebrows.

  “You should all leave,” he said flatly.

  As they walked away, Wei stepped out from the cherry tree, his body engulfed in red flame, his eyes swirling with maddening hate.

  Gasper did not turn around. “I’m surprised it took you this long. When you brought Philiastra before, I thought that would be the end.”

  The old man’s body shuddered as a razor sharp root shot up out of the ground like a spear, piercing him through the chest.

  “You think the forest would give you a quick, merciful death?” Wei snarled. “No, first I wanted you to see your granddaughter come to hate you, your children to be ashamed of you. I wanted you to lie there at night with their disgust burning in your memory.”

  Gasper slumped over, the root through his chest holding him aloft like a skewer.

  “The human body is so fragile,” Wei mused. “Just a little higher and I would have pierced your black heart. But that would be more than you deserve. I want you to die slowly, I want you to feel every moment of it as your life blood oozes out of your wretched frame.”

  Wei stepped closer, drinking in every detail of the old man’s suffering with perverse fascination. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, human. So long it’s become all I can think about. I’ve killed them all. Every human from Dasikí Chará that you cured, they’re all dead. How does it feel, old man? How does it feel to know that the evil things you did to my tribe accomplished absolutely nothing?”

  Gasper grabbed the root in agony, his blood running down the shaft. With trembling lips, he managed to form four words: “Was it worth it?”

  Wei’s flames flashed brighter. “What did you say, you filth?”

  “All those people you killed. Was it worth it?”

  Wei’s expression became confused, and for a moment, his flames receded, and the madness fled from his eyes.

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  Gasper threw down his head and vomited blood.

  “Don’t die just yet, there is one more thing you need to see.”

  Wei snapped his fingers and Gaetan and Phyllis were dragged closer, bound by powerful thorny vines. Their eyes screamed out in panic as they struggled.

  “Before you die, I’m going to make you watch, old man. I’m going to let you listen to the sounds as I peel the skin off your son and his wife. And then, after they are reduced to ruined corpses, then, and only then, will I let you die!”

  Wei flicked out his hand, his nails growing into long, sharp talons as he approached the frantic pair.

  “Oh, and one more thing to carry with you to the underworld. After I am done here, I am going to impregnate your granddaughter. She will carry the seed of the man who ended you. Tuck that away on your journey to hell.”

  Phyllis screamed in terror as Wei pressed the bladed claw up against her temple.

  “Wei, STOP IT!”

  Wei fell back, his fires extinguishing as he grabbed his head, screaming. The roots he commanded went limp, dropping Gasper to the earth. Gaetan and Phyllis hit the ground, fighting to free themselves.

  Philiastra drew near, walking up the rose pathway to the Pisínes Tragoúdi. Around her neck, she wore the crimson gemstone, giving off a blazing light.

  Wei’s eyes swirled around wildly, his body twisting and cavorting like a man possessed.

  “What…is…happening…?”

  “You are cut off from all magic.”

  Down at the bottom of the path, Storgen eased himself down out of the carriage into his wheeled chair. Philiastra placed herself defiantly between Wei and Phyllis.

  Wei looked up, his body retching. “The stone…so you did get it. You’ve brought it to give to me so we can grow a new heart of the forest.”

  “No, Wei. You’re sick. Very sick. And I am here to help you.”

  He began to cry. “You can’t help me, Philiastra. It’s been too long. There’s been too much blood. I can’t even stop myself! Even if I wanted to. The voices are everywhere! The screaming won’t stop!”

  Wei jumped up and tackled her, the two nymphs crashing back through a fountain and colliding with Jenala’s altar. There was no style of finesse to his attacks, it was just savage, raw combat. Hitting, biting, and clawing. He screamed in strange tongues, forming half words and baleful noises. Philiastra fought him off, rolling him onto his back and pinning his hands above his head, but he managed to get his knee beneath her and threw her off, slamming her through a vine-covered archway, shattering it to pieces. As the stone structure crumbled, he picked up a slab of the altar and held it over his head.

  “They won’t stop! They just won’t stop!”

  He threw the stone with astonishing force for his size. Philiastra jumped away as the stone smashed through a fountain, sending flagstones and water everywhere as she rolled to a stop at the base of the largest tree.

  Wei reached down and hefted up another. “Why won’t they leave me alone?!”

  He threw the slab at her, the air whistling as the sharp edge cut through like a blade. Philiastra moved to jump away, but realized if she did, the rock would hit the tree behind her.

  “No.”

  She grabbed a loose flagstone and caught the impact, the rock shattering against her and cleaving her stone. She hit the tree behind her hard, the crimson gemstone breaking free of its chain and falling to the ground. Philiastra slumped down against the trunk of the tree. She had saved it from being felled, but the impact had broken her ribs.

  As green blood trickling down her face, Wei towered over her.

  “I would have spared you from the judgment of the forest,” he spat. “I would have placed you on a throne of living wood and made you queen of a forest renewed. But you threw in your lot with this trash. You discarded your rightful place.”

  Philiastra looked up at him defiantly, her eye swelling shut. “My place is right here, between you and the people you would hurt.”

  The tree creaked in judgment, and Wei looked up at it in surprise.

  Another tree groaned out, then a third. Wei stumbled back, his eyes rolling around in panic as he listened to their breathless condemnation of his guilt.

  “No! I did this all for you. I did it for the forest. I did it for you!”

  Wei jumped on top of her, wrapping his fingers around her neck and choking. “You turned them against me! You lied to the trees!”

  Suddenly, a chair struck him hard in the head, knocking him off of her. He rolled over and found Storgen drawing near, scooting closer in his wheeled chair. “Get away from her! That’s the woman I love!”

  Wei hissed as Storgen picked up another chair with his remaining hand. Wei grabbed a broken leg and jumped into the air, holding the wood like a stake. Storgen threw the chair, slamming it into Wei’s face as he came crashing down.

  Wei knocked Storgen clean out of his chair, slamming him hard to the ground and plunging the splintered wood deep into his shoulder. Storgen grimaced in pain as Wei cruelly twisted the wood, punching all the way through and staking Storgen into the hard soil.

  “You didn’t even try to dodge me.”

  Storgen grabbed onto Wei’s wrist with his one hand. “Why would I? I have everything I need to beat you right here.”

  Storgen slammed his head forward, bashing Wei in the face with a brutal head-butt. The stunned nymph tried to pull away, but Storgen held him fast and bashed him again, breaking his nose. Wei released the wood and grabbed Storgen’s fingers, trying to pry himself free as Storgen bashed him a third time, dislocating Wei’s jaw with a sickly pop.

  Wei pried himself off and backed away, his eyes wild behind his bloodied face. “You’re one of them!” he howled, crawling and lurching back towards Philiastra. “You benefitted from the pruned leaves just like they did. And so, you must die as well!”

  A shadow fell over him as Gaetan and Phyllis stood before him, standing between him and Philiastr
a.

  “That is my daughter!” Gaetan shouted, throwing aside a broken root.

  “We will not let you hurt her!” Phyllis joined in.

  Philiastra looked up at them, her eyes tearing up. “Mom…Dad.”

  Wei bayed like a wild beast, swiping his arm and knocking them away as if they weighed nothing. They hit the ground hard.

  “No!” Philiastra struggled to her feet, her knees wobbling.

  She stepped before her fallen parents, clutching her injured side. “Do not hurt them!”

  She glanced back at them. “They’re my parents.”

  Gaetan and Phyllis looked up at her, love in their eyes as they held one another.

  Wei spat green blood and stood up, the two powerful forest nymphs facing one another.

  “Humans are the enemy,” Wei said darkly.

  Philiastra looked at him sympathetically. “No, they aren’t. Hate is the enemy.”

  Wei took a swing at her, but she leaned back, letting his clawed hand sail harmlessly before her nose. He punched again, and she moved her head to the side, his hand passing by without touching her.

  He swung again and again, punching, kicking, and clawing, but each time she dodged him, refusing to fight back. He grew angrier and angrier, his attacks becoming sloppier and weaker, but she slipped around everything he threw at her.

  “Fight me!” he screamed, spinning around in a spin hook kick. “I hate you!”

  She ducked beneath it, her face perfectly calm. “I don’t hate you.”

  “Why?” he bellowed, punching and kicking again. “I’m trying to kill you. Why won’t you hate me?”

  His attacks became slower, his strength fading with each punch.

  Philiastra looked at him sympathetically. “Because you are my friend.”

  His strength spent, Wei’s arms fell to his side, tears gathering in his eyes. He fell to the ground, sobbing pitifully as she stood over him.

  “You should hate me,” he whispered. “I do.”

  Philiastra walked over to Gaetan and Phyllis, and helped them to their feet. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, we’ll be fine.”

  Philiastra gave them a quick hug and held out her hand to Wei. “It’s over, Wei. You’ve lost. Come, let me help you. Let me save you.”

  Wei looked up, desperation and despair in his eyes. For a moment, he struggled within himself, fighting with the urge to accept her offer.

  But as he saw Phyllis and Gaetan holding her, his rage began to rise up again. His breathing began ragged, and hate filled his eyes.

  “NEVER!”

  He grabbed the crimson gem where it lay and threw it with all his strength. The glowing stone flew over the hillside, landing atop the roof of Cinque Aleria far below.

  The void now gone, magical forces rushed back in, and Wei burst into searing hot fire. He held up his hands and the hillside burst apart, hundreds of sharp-tipped roots rising up like a forest of spears. The spears rose up like a wave, shredding apart stone benches and metal pools, rushing closer and closer to Philiastra and her parents like a tidal wave of death.

  Something shoved them away, and Philiastra hit the ground hard. The wave of spears stopped suddenly when it reached the tree. Where she had stood, Gasper Thavma lay, his body pierced in a dozen places.

  Wei stood there in disbelief, his eyes shaking in pain as he looked down, a stake of wood protruding out through his heart. Behind him, Storgen knelt holding the far end of the stake, a bloody trail along the ground where he had dragged himself with one arm.

  Wei fell backwards and collapsed to the ground.

  Realizing what had happened, Philiastra scampered over to Gasper. “Why did you do that? Why?”

  The old man looked up, his face pale and cold. “Because… you are my granddaughter.”

  His eyes closed and his breathing ceased. Philiastra reached out and touched his pallid cheek, not knowing what to feel.

  “Philiastra,” a voice wheezed.

  She look over and saw Wei reaching up with a bloody hand.

  “Philiastra,” he wheezed again.

  She crawled over to him, his skin fading, his eyes growing cloudy.

  “It’s so quiet…” he whispered.

  His cloudy eyes looked around blindly. “Philiastra, is that you?”

  She kneeled over him and took his hand. “Yes, it’s me, Wei.”

  “Oh good. I’ve been having…the strangest dream. It was so dark…”

  She gave his hand a squeeze. “It was just a dream, Wei. Just a dream.”

  He closed his eyes peacefully. “I’m glad. It’s so quiet. I can’t hear anything.”

  His remaining leaves began to wither and fall away.

  “I think I’m going to rest now…”

  All color drained from his body, then his skin began to crack. Fractures traced all over his body, then it crumbled into dust.

  Storgen wrapped his arm around her and embraced her. Gaetan and Phyllis joined in.

  Philiastra covered her face and wept.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  “There’s a poetry to natural design. When a man and a woman love one another, it creates life. All people, therefore, are the product of love. To wield love is to wield the power of creation itself. We are therefore all co-creators along with the fates, and we honor them by the children we create and raise in love.”

  - Alcansa the Scholar

  The water was a dazzling blue, so clear it was difficult to tell where the sky ended and the ocean began. The sands of the beach were an immaculate white, as if they themselves were made of clouds. Clouds above, and clouds below. Sky above, and sky below. The sounds of the waves was gently rhythmic. The coral reef beneath the lagoon was vibrant with color, teeming with life. This island felt apart from time, a single moment without beginning and without end. A place without memory, a place of peace.

  Storgen grunted as he strapped himself into the harness and pulled on the pulleys. With his left hand he would hoist himself higher up the tower, momentarily pinching the rope with the hook at the end of his metal forearm, before grabbing up higher with his left hand and hoisting himself further.

  He didn’t ask for help. He didn’t want it.

  The top of the tower gave a spectacular view of the vast, tropical island. The sun was warm and the air was cool. Years of working outside had bleached Storgen’s hair to a platinum blonde and tanned his skin to a light bronze. The tower itself was a marvel, a fusion of alchemic components and living wood. Yet it had none of the monstrous appearance Storgen had known from the creations inside the Alchemy Tower. Instead this felt like a natural integration, an effortless intertwining of tree and machine, of organic and synthetic. It was a fitting testament to its inventor, his wife.

  Reaching the top, Storgen tied off the rope and hit the spring release on his prosthetic arm, and the hook flipped back inside and was replaced by a socket wrench. Carefully, he took the delicate fuse mechanism out of his pouch. It had taken Philiastra a month to make it, and the last thing he wanted to do was drop it like the last one.

  It had a double-helix outer casing of living wood, similar to the kratóntas ta chéria that Philiastra used to use, with an inner glass core and an alchemic prism. Suspended at the center of the prism was a tiny seed from Mikródéntro. Storgen wondered for a moment how the thing worked, but the last time he had made the mistake of asking, his wife’s answer felt like nothing more than driggle-draggle to him, so he just shrugged and screwed it into the clockwork housing of the optic section, using his socket wrench to carefully tighten it into place.

  His task complete, he flipped his hook back out, and began lowering himself down the tower. There were sixteen identical towers spaced evenly around the perimeter of the island, one for each quarter of each season. Yet for all the work they had done, there were still only two trees on the island, but that would soon change. The old palm seemed happy to have the company, and Mikródéntro, who was ecstatic to be replanted here in such a fertile
place.

  Reaching the base of the tower, Storgen found that someone had left him a cupcake and a colorful drawing. He smiled and wolfed down the pastry, carefully folding up the drawing and placing it in his satchel along with dozens of others.

  Scooting out of the harness, he grabbed one of the artificial legs Philiastra had made for him and strapped it to the stump of his knee. There were no fancy alchemic components or motors. Such things wouldn’t work for him. Just carefully tensioned springs and joints. With the use of a sturdy cane, Storgen could amble, albeit slowly, and that was good enough for him.

  Both legs in place, Storgen stood up and tested the weight, taking little steps as he made his way to the houses by the lake. It was such a simple joy, to walk again, and he savored every step.

  ~

  Inside the small house, a young child peeked out through a window. She had her mother’s green skin, but her father’s blue eyes. Her hair was made of leaves, but of various colors. Golden yellows, auburn reds, and chocolatey browns. She wore them in a long braid that stretched down her back. Seeing Storgen approach, she began to bubble with excitement, hopping down from the chair and tottering off to her mother’s workshop.

  Inside, she found her mother hunched over her workbench, carefully welding a delicate crystal board with violet sparks flying out. She wore a set of goggles with dozens of different special lenses of every size and color.

  “Momi, Dad’s coming!”

  Philiastra sat up and took off her goggles, an adorable little smudge of grease on her cheek.

  “Come on, Momi, come on,” the child prodded, grabbing at her white coat and tugging as hard as she could.

  “Just hang on Autumn,” Philiastra scolded. “Mommy’s not as fast as she used to be.”

  Philiastra stood up, her great swollen belly making it hard to find her center of balance.

  “Will baby be coming today?” Autumn asked, looking at her mother’s tummy.

  “Not today, sweetheart, but soon.”