Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen (16 page)

“...we don’t want them picking up our scent,” Dr. Griffin grumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Mina asked.

“Nothin’.”

“We've done a lot of sketchy things over the years,” Ryin snorted, “but never something this big. Whoever comes here is going to be wicked angry, and I’d rather not give them a chance to express their feelings, if you catch my drift.”

“Let’s just pray they don’t catch our drift,” Captain Evere said. “We'll need a good strong current, but no bumps, can you handle that, Gerstun?”

Margaret looked up from her notebook and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Um, I think so.”

Captain Evere and Mina looked at each other apprehensively.

“So, we need to plan our next move, then,” Captain Evere opined.

“Already taken care of,” Athel cackled happily as she pulled out some charts. “My mother and I already concurred.”

“When did you do that?” Ryin asked,

“When I spoke to her a few minutes ago,” Athel explained, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth while she pulled out a piece of chalk and began making marks.

“You discussed sensitive war plans over a monitored transmission?” Captain Evere coughed. “Are you daft, lass?”

“Don’t worry, it was all in code,” Athel reassured him. “It’s a variant of the syllabic tests I took when I was younger...”

“You mean like princess training?’” Ryin scoffed.

Athel looked up. “Yes, Colenat, ‘princess training,’ like where we learn to sing to forest creatures and practice sticking our little fingers out when we drink tea.”

“Do princesses really do that?” Ryin asked before Mina smacked him on the back of the head.

“Anyway,” Athel continued. “It’s really quite simple. You have a normal conversation, and just keep an ear out for the 21
^st
, 292
^nd
and 366
^th
syllables to find the key phrases you want to get across to each other.”

“Why those numbers?” Dr. Griffin asked, digging his little finger into his hairy ear.

“Because those were the days of the year when I passed my syllabic tests, of course,” Athel said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wow, you and your mom really do think alike,” Margaret observed as she took notes.

“I knew that’s exactly what she was doing once I saw her wave her hand like that. She never does that except at the start of a test.”

Mina leaned in. “But, sweetie, surely they'll have their code-breakers go over the...”

“That’s just the first layer,” Athel revealed as she drew. “The second layer is contextual. Facts that no outsider could know. For instance, my sister and I learned how to swim on a family trip to Artice, which is where we are going next. Everyone else will meet up with us there.”

“Everyone else?” Dr. Griffin inquired, wiping his finger on his uniform.

Athel nodded. “My cousin’s birthday takes place on the last day of this month, which is when they will meet us there.”

“Meet who?” Dr. Griffin persisted, scratching his elbow.

Athel stood up and showed the charts to everyone. “And the key phrase to reveal our target,” Athel beamed, “is Hai’i Milia Carminie. The golden amber that sustains Nallorn trees.”

Everyone gathered around and looked at the charts.

“I don’t get it,” Ryin complained. Athel has marked up an island south of Kirdish, but what is there?”

“Payday,” Captain Evere grinned from ear to ear.

It was then that Privet ran up, looking as if he had just sprinted the entire length of the tower.

“I have good news...huge news,” he stated in between gulps of air. “I've been down with the tower guards. The serum we gave them finally took effect.”

“What did they tell you, lad?” Captain Evere asked, tipping his hat.

“Everything,” Privet gasped, “but we have to move quickly. This place isn’t just a communication artery, it’s a relay station for airship keystones.” Privet pointed to the electrified sphere above them at the top of the tower.

“What do you mean?” Athel asked, looking up.

“I mean this place keeps airships in the air,” Privet revealed.

“No, the stone-core in each ship keeps them afloat. At least, that is what I was taught,” Mina retorted.

Privet shook his head. “That is what everyone thinks. But apparently the keystones just receive the magical energy that places like these send out. This place is far more important than we ever imagined, it covers the black ocean, the indigo sea, and the entire west sea.”

Captain Evere leaned over Athel’s chart and began making some quick calculations.

“I don’t understand,” Athel admitted. “What are you getting at?”

“Don’t you see?” Privet said, finally catching his breath. “If we destroy this tower, every airship within ten thousand leagues will fall out of the sky.”

Captain Evere stood up. “Right now the entire Navy taskforce that attacked Wysteria should be right smack in the middle of the west sea,” he said grimly.

Everyone grew deathly silent as they realized the full implications of what Privet was suggesting.

“Don’t you see?” Privet said excitedly, grabbing Athel by the arm. “We can destroy the entire Navy Fleet, right here, right now.”

For a long time, no one spoke. It was Athel who finally broke the silence. “How many people are we talking about?” she asked somberly.

“There’s no way to know for sure, lass,” Evere explained. “The standard destroyer has a crew of four-hundred fifty, plus passengers. Transport ships are designed to carry a thousand marines.”

“Best guess, then,” Athel requested grimly.

Captain Evere folded his arms and sighed. “At least three million, probably higher.”

“Why are we even discussing this?” Privet asked. “Let’s just go up there and smash the whole thing while the Navy Airships are still over open water.”

“No,” Athel stated firmly.

“What?”

“I’m not going to murder millions of innocents.”

Privet shook his head in disbelief. “They are not innocents, you dummy, they are soldiers. They nearly reduced your homeland to cinders just now.”

“They are not my enemy.”

“Of course they are your enemy,” Privet insisted. “They attacked you. That is what the word ‘enemy’ means.”

“Fine then, they are not evil,” Athel insisted. “They are just ordinary people following orders.”

“Of course they are not evil,” Privet agreed. “But when they carry out the orders of evil people, they make themselves your enemy.”

Privet took a moment and collected himself. “Look, Athel, I know you have never been in a real war before, so I can understand why you think the way you do. But the reality of war is this: If you do not kill them they will kill you, so you do what you have to do to survive.”

“There is more at stake here than just simple survival,” Athel retorted. “Even in war there are rules. Lines in the ground that we do not cross.”

“No, YOU have rules, rules that make victory more difficult to achieve. Do you think the Stone Council would show restraint if they were in your position?”

“That’s exactly my point,” Athel insisted. “If we behave like them then we are no better than they are. We have to take the high road and do what is right.”

“Do what is right?” Privet repeated, throwing his arms up. “Do you have any idea why most wars are fought? Everyone has their own idea of what is right and what is wrong. In war, both sides are doing what they think is right.”

Even though Privet towered over her in size and strength, Athel stood her ground and folded her arms, matching his will with her own.

Privet’s expression slowly changed to disbelief as he realized that she was not going to relent.

“So, what?” Privet asked, pacing back and forth like a tiger in a cage. “We're just going to let the Navy go, and then kill them all once they attack Wysteria again, but only after they've torched even more of your forest and killed even more of your people? The net effect is the same. In order to win this war, you are going to have to kill them sooner or later, so why not sooner, before they can do more damage?”

Privet stopped and turned to her. “Or, maybe you won’t win. Maybe they'll return and turn the rest of Wysteria to slag. Then we'll look back and see that this was your last chance. What will you say to your dead sisters then? Will you tell them that they all didn’t have to die? That you had the power to end the war right here and right now, but you chose not to because you didn’t want to have a guilty conscience?”

Athel began to fold before his onslaught, her resolve weakening. “Stop it, Privet. We both know there are things more important than life.”

“Like what?”

“Honor,” Athel offered.

“Honor? Is that what you are going to say during your impeachment trial, when the other Matrons find out that you could have saved their daughters’ lives but chose not to? Oh wait, I suppose they can’t yank you off the throne if the throne is just a pile of ashes. Because that is what you will have. A mountain of ashes and bones, and your honor.”

Athel took a step back and looked away. She couldn’t deny the power of what he was saying. Was it right for her to risk the future of so many lives, to wager the existence of her entire race, simply because she did not want to do something distasteful?

Privet stepped forward, looking her right in the eyes. “Honor is just a noise, Athel. It’s just a sound. It may appear to mean something when you are sitting quietly at home, but it doesn’t count for squat when people are shooting at you. The only thing that matters then is surviving. Are you really willing to trade the lives of your people for something as empty as honor?”

Athel took another step back, wrapping her arms around herself. Her face was full of pain. “I’m not a monster. I don’t want to be a monster. Those sailors have families, spouses and children.”

Privet’s expression softened, and he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Of course you don’t want to be a monster. No one does. But war is a monstrous thing, and you can’t win a war by trying to be the good guy.”

Athel slowly looked up at him.

“You cannot win a war if your goal is for people to like you,” Privet counseled.

Athel bit her lip, compassion in her eyes. “I’m sorry Privet, but I won’t do it. I guess it is selfish of me, but I would rather die as me than live on as a monster.”

Privet stood up, disappointment on his face.

“And I would rather live. I would rather protect my people from death. I would rather save the forest rather than allow my enemies to destroy it. You may be willing to die for the forest, but I am willing to live for it.” He looked around, as if expecting the others to enter in on his side, but no one did.

“Fine,” Privet stated, straightening his uniform. “Then I will do it myself.”

Privet turned towards the tower, but Captain Evere stood in his way.

“Don’t tell me you are on her side.”

“There are more than two sides in things, lad.” Evere cautioned. “Mina and I have been on the wrong side of the dock for most of our lives, so this may be new to you although it’s brimmin' obvious to us. The first rule of piratin' is ‘grab what you can and get out alive.’ It doesn’t matter how much extra you grab if you never make it out. Treasure is only valuable while you are alive to spend it.”

“Oh great, annoying AND unhelpful.”

Evere grabbed Privet’s collar and held him close and tight. Privet didn’t flinch. “If we smash this thing,” Evere explained, “our ships will also fall into the ocean, and we'll be stranded here. And while I’m maladroitly fond of you Wysterians, I’m not about to just throw away my life for your cause, so to speak.”

Privet paused. One by one, he looked into the eyes of the others, giving them a chance to speak up. No one did.

“So, unless you've got a Gatemaster hidden in your backpack,” Evere smiled, “we best grab what we can and get out alive to fight another day.”

Evere released Privet. The two stared each other down. For a moment, Athel wondered if they were going to fight. But Privet straightened himself up and turned to walk away.

All eyes were on Privet as he moved, strong and tall. The deck was silent except for his fading footsteps as he went below deck.

Holding her notebook, Margaret slowly leaned over to Alder and whispered, “what does maladroitly mean?”

A few minutes later, the Quaranna slowly flew away towards the clear skies in the south, as the Dreadnaught quietly slipped away towards the approaching storm clouds in the east.

Everyone on the Dreadnaught felt in their hearts that they would never have a chance like this again.

They were the most filthy bunch of individuals anyone on the palace staff had ever seen. No two dressed alike, their clothes and style of dress ranged from little more than worn woolen rags to rich velvet drapings, finely tailored and ornately displayed. Wide-eyed house-husbands pressed themselves as far back to the walls as they could to allow the group to pass. No two came from the same race. A lizard-skinned Tirrakian ambled alongside a brightly-feathered Maliaoite, while a Kirdishian scuttled through the branches that formed the ceiling, using her long spider-like legs. They were as motley and varied as a group of people could be, yet they all possessed a certain dangerous quality. In their eyes was a kind of intelligence that felt like a weapon, a cunning that was perilous to oppose. Servants and guards parted before them as if they were a force of nature, giving them ample berth as they filed, one-by-one, into the special auditorium that had been grown for this unique meeting. The leaders of the largest thirteen Pirate Guilds had come to parlay.

Queen Forsythia sat solemnly in the center of the hall. Her face emaciated and ashen, her eyes sunken and tired. Many of the flowers on her long cape were wilted. Her hair had been braided in a heart-shaped crescent that sloped away from her face. Although the hairstyle framed her face neatly, it seemed to have lost its luster. She sat half-slumped in her throne, as if she was in constant danger of falling over.

Behind her stood Solanum. Her eyes were strange. Just looking at her made one feel like she was about to expose one’s deepest darkest secrets. The candlelight from all the tables seemed to dance around wildly in her eyes.