Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (4 page)

Athel sat down next to her husband and put her arm around him. “If I had done nothing she would have taken our baby away from us. This way, no matter what they find in the scriptures, we get to raise our child together. That is what is important, isn’t it?”

Alder turned his head and kissed the baby on the cheek. “That is important. I do want to raise him. But, even still, I don’t want him to grow up to be a slave.”

Newall Norsoso could barely believe his eyes. The forests of Wysteria were barely recognizable from the last time he had been here. Thousands of warships lay docked with the trees, their branches wrapped around and cradling them in an almost motherly way. People from every island he knew walked about purposefully, and a few from islands he had never heard of. They were all working feverishly, preparing for the invasion they were soon to launch against the Stonemasters. The formerly isolated island was positively cosmopolitan now. Signs were posted everywhere in a variety of languages. Vendors from dozens of different islands rubbed shoulders with each other in the streets, blocking the view to the traditional Wysterian shops behind them. But for all the diversity, the Wysterians themselves refused to participate in it. Their Treesingers skulked in the shadows, watching the foreigners suspiciously, whispering to themselves in their whistly native tongue, and only speaking common when absolutely necessary. Many of the song halls and libraries had placed up banners, restricting access to Wysterians only. Their men remained inside, only occasionally poking their heads out long enough to toss some trash or dust out a window down into the forest floor nearly a mile below.

Newall licked the palm of his hand and wiped it across the few strands of hair he had left, laying them flat against his sweaty skin as the wood before him reshaped itself and he was escorted deeper into the royal tree.

“Um, am I supposed to have a token to present to her Queeness or something?” he asked nervously.

The Treesinger guard rolled her eyes in irritation and muttered some curse, but otherwise ignored him as he was instructed by the men to remove his boots and roughly placed in a line of people waiting to enter the royal hall.

Realizing that his sweaty palms were staining the parchment he carried, he wiped his hands off on his civilian trousers as best he could, leaving a streak where some of the ink had rubbed onto his fingers. He missed his navy uniform. It had a smart cut to it, slimmed him down quite a bit. What’s more, he liked what it stood for. Now all of that was gone. After being twice sent to massacre a peaceful population, the Federal navy’s reputation was irrevocably stained, and nothing could clean it, so he had resigned his commission, along with most of the invasion force. The only people left in the navy were those blood-minded individuals who could care less.

At his feet, a little rootlet grew up and began wrapping itself around his big toe. His first instinct was to kick it off, but looking around at the imposing female guards, he thought better of it, and instead jerked his foot as hard as he thought he could get away with to try and shake it off.

“Presenting Mister Newell Norsoto from the Kingdom of Derets,” Dahoon announced formally in common. The wood before him parted and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light coming from within.

The radiance of the Queen nearly took his breath away as she sat upon her stately throne. Her hair was flawlessly braided, adorned with pears and a beautiful silver circlet. Her gown of white flower petals flattered the beautiful curves of her young body. A cape of living roses and thorns flowed out behind her like a floral waterfall. The walls of living wood that made up the grand hall leaned slightly towards her, as if bowing deferentially. Even the sun itself seemed to bestow its blessing upon her, a ray resting upon her brow, highlighting the beautiful red in her auburn hair.

Only Alder knew that she had actually spent several minutes at the beginning of the day, repositioning the wood and branches to create that very effect.

“Mister Norsoto, it pleases the forest to see you again,” she greeted. Her voice was icily powerful, yet undeniably feminine.

When he realized that this person had once been the scrappy-haired girl who came to his office seeking to join the navy, his brain nearly melted.

The guard nudged him from behind about twice as forcefully as was necessary, nearly making him stumble as he stepped forward into the dignified hall.

“Um, yes, you look so different I... nearly…more beautiful, I mean. Uh, oh, I’m sorry; I probably shouldn’t…er…”

“Have you brought news from your king?” she asked, nudging him back on task.

“Oh, yes.” He fiddled with the clasp and it broke, the long scroll spilling out onto the floor before him. “Oh, figs!” He bent over and scooped it up as best he could. “Um, yes, the King of Derets has agreed to join the Wysterian Alliance. His son has returned with me and will be attending the conference tomorrow as his regent.”

He awkwardly held out the stained and smeared scroll to her, so she could see the royal seal herself.

“Thank you. The forest understands that you were delayed in coming here.”

“Yes, my ship was attacked by navy patrols. They are doing everything they can to disrupt travel outside of Wysterian airspace.”

“A problem that will shortly be remedied,” The Queen assured.

“Thank you. You are as lovely as your mother was. Oh, I mean, not to say you look old…I mean, not to say she did…oh no…what I mean to say is that…”

“May I announce the arrival of Captain Tallia of the Royal Guard,” Dahoon announced formally, cutting the fat man off.

“Oh…” Newall said mousily as he was escorted away.

Captain Tallia entered, standing straight and proud in her armored gown, saluting with her fist across her chest with her one remaining arm. “My Queen. We have finished finding housing for all of the former navy personnel, although it was necessary to place many of them with the Suidra families.”

Queen Forsythia nodded thankfully. “That may create problems, but the forest understands the need for it. However, something else bothers you?”

“Yes. The problem is that we have nearly quadrupled the population of our island.”

“So far, the forest seems to be managing all right.” The Queen knew she was exaggerating. It had been days since she had slept. Putting out the fires of rage her people felt towards their former enemies was pushing her past the brink of exhaustion. For every ember she smothered, it seemed three more sprung up.

“It is true our Treesingers can grow an inexhaustible amount of food, but they can’t make water. At the rate we are going, these foreigners are going to drink the lakes dry.”

The Queen steepled her fingers. “Yes, and the dry season is approaching. That means the forest will have to secure an external source.”

Without a word, Alder stepped up alongside the throne, looking very fetching in his formal attire as he held his clipboard. “My Queen. The only island that has joined us with an excess of fresh water is Ronesia. But they are nearly a month’s journey by sail.”

Bunni Bubbles sat on his shoulder, wearing a tiny royal maid costume. “Too far, that’s just too far,” she sang sweetly, tapping her tiny pen against her tiny clipboard.

“You see the problem,” Tallia continued.

The Queen nodded. “Yes, thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

Tallia saluted again and walked out. The courtiers eyed her uneasily as she left. In their hearts they wondered what should be done with a woman who had lost her magic. Was she to be regarded as a man now? A few whispered of replacing her. But, just as soon as the doubts welled up, the Queen sensed it and touched their hearts through the trees, trying to bolster and reassure them. It only partially worked.

“Presenting Madam Aspen Bursage,” Dahoon announced formally.

Several of the courtiers parted as the wintry-haired woman strode forward, discarding a crumpled fistful of papers at the foot of the throne.

“There! I have returned. Fat lotta good it did, forcing me to live on a rickety ship of corpse-wood for a month. The Kingdom of Hatronesia has refused to join your Alliance.”

There was a wave of hushed surprise through the courtiers.

The Queen leaned forward. “Madam Bursage, the forest completed the negotiations over the crystal array prior to your departure. All that was necessary was for you to acquire their seal and signature.”

“I have never been treated so rudely in all of my life. Those feather heads; they refused to give us the respect owed us.”

“Their customs are…”

“Do you know what they said to me? They said that I was stuffy. I will not be spoken to like that. Do you know who I am?”

The Queen remained as calm as ever. “Aspen, of course the forest knows who you are. You are the Matriarch of one of the largest and most honored Braihmin-class families. It was only fitting that you be sent as our diplomat.”

For the briefest of moments, the old woman’s harsh eyes flickered over to Alder, who shuddered ever so slightly, as if he expected to be struck.

Madam Bursage held up a bony finger. “You are not sending me out amidst those filthy foreigners again,” she insisted, then turned around to leave along with her daughters.

As the courtiers whispered amongst themselves, The Queen leaned back in her throne.

“That is the third one we have lost this week,” Alder noted. He brought his hand up to stifle a cough.

“Yes.”

The Queen tapped her staff, then leaned over to Dahoon. “Please make room for an additional ten minutes of meetings. The forest needs to speak with her naval advisors.”

Dahoon looked crushed as he checked her itinerary. “I’m not sure I can do that,” my Queen.

“Skip my meal breaks then.”

Dahoon opened his mouth to advise her, but then thought better of it. “Yes, my Queen.”

Alder coughed. “My Queen, you must maintain your health.”

The Queen looked back at her husband. “What about you? You do not seem well.”

Alder coughed again. He was looking extremely pale, even for him. “I am fine, my Queen. The fate of the world hangs in the balance over the next few days.”

“Then I am also fine.”

Wysteria was a fairly large island, but it was amazing how quickly something could happen when the Queen commanded it. In the next town over, Ryin sat contentedly around a smokey jatlat table, surrounded by beautiful navy women dressed in slinky evening gowns.

“Oh, I love watching you play, Brian,” one of the purred as she snuggled up close to him.

“It’s Ryin.”

“Yeah, Ryin, of course,” she cooed, kissing him on the neck. “Such a manly name.”

“Attempt to corner the market or pass, ladies man?” Hanner asked, shuffling his cards.

“Attempting to appear more masculine, Ryin took a deep puff on his cigar, but ended up coughing and wheezing instead.

Within seconds of the Queen’s wordless order, the Treesingers nearest to Ryin and Hanner outstretched their staffs, and great vines grew down, plucking the two men straight out of their chairs, and snatching them over to the tip of the enormous branch the town was built on. Then, with a flick stronger than mountains, they were catapulted, screaming for their lives as they were flung several miles through the air to the royal tree, which caught them in a net of branches and leaves softer than a down pillow.

Seconds later, Ryin and Hanner were in utter shock as they were plopped down before the throne. Their clothes were wind-whipped. Twigs and leaves stuck in their hair.

“I’ll pass,” Hanner coughed, a leaf spitting out of his throat.

One of Ryin’s cards fell from his frozen hand to the floor, where one of the Wysterian men quickly snatched it up.

“Forgive me for summoning you so quickly. The forest needs you to go on a diplomatic mission to bring another island into the Alliance. I cannot discuss the details openly, but it is critical that this island in particular on our side.”

Ryin’s brain fought to process what was happening. “U-us?”

“I did appoint you special advisors after all.”

Ryin scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, but still, there’s gotta be better people than us for a job like this.”

The Queen templed her fingers. “It pains me to admit it, but my people make poor diplomats. Most have never left Wysteria. They know nothing of other cultures and don’t care to learn. It is creating a significant obstacle to forging the Alliance.”

“If we are to beat the Stonemasters, we need as many islands on our side as possible,” Alder added.

“Kick their stony butts!” Bunny cheered, waving a pair of tiny pom-poms around.

The Queen gave an obliging nod. “You will do fine. You know enough to avoid offending accidentally. What’s more, I trust you. Will you help this forest?”

This comment made the courtiers decidedly unhappy. They expressed it in hushed jeers and clucked tongues.

The Queen’s penetrating hazel eyes looked out into the crowd. “If any of you wish to volunteer to go in their place, please speak now.”

The courtiers became silent. The only sound was the light shuffling of timid feet.

“Very well, then.”

Ryin put up his hand. “Look, Athel…”

Dahoon stepped forward. “You will address her properly or you will be removed.”

Something in the man’s demeanor told Ryin that he wasn’t kidding. “Ahem. Right. Okay, Queen-lady, I gotta be honest, I really don’t want to do this…”

Alder looked crushed.

A smile crept across Ryin’s face. “…but we’re shipmates, and shipmates are heat-tempered together. You can count me in.”

Queen Forsythia placed her hand over her heart in thanks. “And you, Hanner?”

Hanner spit his cigar stub out onto the floor, where a man quickly scuttled out from the shadows to clean it up. “Might as well. I got nothing squattin’ better to do. The Dreadnaught is scraps, and this place is as boring as a mud pot.”

Several of the courtiers scoffed in offense.

The Queen smiled sincerely. “Thank you both. I honestly don’t know what I would do without you.”

Alder stepped forward. “I’ll have a ship assigned to you. You leave for Hatronesia in the morning.”

Ryin’s head snapped up like it was made of rubber. “Wait, THAT’s where we’re going?” He brought his hands up, nearly trembling with excitement. “Hatronesia, the island closed to outsiders? Filled with the most beautiful and sensual women in all of Aetria? Where there’s only one man for every ten thousand women? You’re sending us…there?”

Alder made a mark on his clipboard. Bunny made a corresponding mark on hers. “I would disagree with the beauty part. Wysterian women are the most beautiful in Aetria, but yes, that is where you are being sent.”