Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  “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.”

  “Well said, husband.”

  Ryin covered his mouth to contain a squeal of joy. “Oh, this is better than ten anvils. I could hug you right now…”

  He opened his arms to embrace her, but only got half a step forward before the royal guard snapped into action. Within a heartbeat Ryin was bound tightly with strong vines, venom dripping from their barbed thorns.

  “…but I won’t.” He choked. “I’ll leave that for Alder.”

  Slowly the vines slackened him. Daintily he pushed away a hovering at his throat. “Heh, heh…sharp.”

  * * *

  Alder had trouble keeping up with Privet as they hacked through the underbrush. With wide, effortless swings of his thick arms, Privet cleared a path through the gnarled and twisted thorn bushes, being careful to stay as far away from the enormous Nallorn tree trunks as possible. At this level, they were like skyscrapers--pillars of wood, some as wide as a city block, rising up to the dizzying heights of the canopy far above.

  Bunni Bubbles swatted at some flies as she sat on Alder’s shoulder. “This place is stinky!”

  Alder pulled out his handkerchief and coughed into it, trying to muffle the sound as best he could.

  “You all right there?” Privet asked as he bisected a man-sized mushroom.

  “Yes, quite all right.”

  They both paused when they reached the edge of the forest. No matter how many times they saw it, it still made them feel like crying. Beyond were the blight lands, the bleached and fetid wasteland created when the Stormcallers of Stretis had hit Wysteria with a tidal wave of acidic sea water.

  “This place is sad,” Bunni commented, trying to understand.

  This is where Deutzia had been planted. Athel’s personal Nallorn tree stood on the border like a sentry; a message to herself and everyone else that their enemies would never be allowed to destroy another inch of the forest.

  “Alder is that you?” Deutzia shimmered in the evening light. “Oh, I have missed you so much. Sometimes it feels like no one ever comes to visit me anymore.”

  “I am pleased to see you as well, Deutzia,” Alder greeted, bowing formally. “But I was here just the other day to gather some sap for the baby. It hasn’t even been half a week.”

  “Oh, but it feels like a month,” Deutzia twinkled grumpily, her branches shaking. “The trees around here are so boring to talk to. They just tell the same stories over and over again. I swear, if old lady birch over there tells me about her robins’ nest one more time, I’m going to uproot myself.”

  Alder chuckled as he took out a small leather pouch and held it out. “Well, you are surprisingly well traveled for a Ma’iltri’ia. Not many trees have traveled around the world like you have.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I am happy to finally be planted in real soil. My roots were so cramped in that horrible pot you had me in, but after seeing so many distant and exotic places, it’s left me…restless.”

  Carefully, Deutzia lowered a special hollow branch and poured some glowing amber liquid into Alder’s pouch for the baby.

  “Well, you are a bit of a celebrity right now. The only tree to ever give birth to a boy. I bet that has made things interesting.”

  “Oh, don’t even get me started. Every tree on the island has the same dumb questions. ‘Did you know?’ ‘What did it feel like?’ ‘Did you do it on purpose?’ ‘Did he kick a lot?’ ‘Was it a curse?’ Blah blah blah blah blah. I keep telling them I don’t know how it happened, I don’t know anything, but it’s like they think I’m hiding something from them. Believe me, i
f I knew why it happened, I’d tell everyone just to get some peace and quiet.”

  As Alder and Deutzia talked, Privet took a few steps back and craned his neck up. Deutzia was already hundreds of feet tall by now. He could barely see the top of her from the ground.

  “It’s hard to believe that this huge thing was Athel’s dumb little tree,” he mused.

  Deutzia twinkled angrily.

  Alder closed the pouch and affixed it to his belt. “Quite right. You’d be well advised to treat her well. You’re marrying the tree as much as the woman, after all.”

  Privet took a step back and regarded Deutzia again. “Yikes. Never thought of it that way before.”

  Deutzia shimmered sarcastically. Alder snickered.

  Bunni giggled. “You made the big tree angry.”

  “So, how long did it take to learn her language?” Privet asked, trying to change the subject.

  Alder shook his head. “I didn’t. Only those bound to her can understand her. You’ll gain that ability yourself after the wedding.”

  Privet scratched his chiseled jaw line. “IF there is a wedding, you mean. Didn’t you say there’s a chance her Nallorn tree might not like me when she reads my soul?”

  “Oh, I’d say there’s very little chance of that, given how enamored my Queen has always been with you. They are twins, after all. They have very similar taste in men.”

  Privet couldn’t help but be a little flattered. “Really? What does she say about me?”

  Alder seemed to grow a little sad. “Oh, she’d prattle on for hours about your masculine physique. Your manly jaw line. The way you held a saber. The way you smell. She would even draw little pictures of you in her diary…the man she always wanted as a husband...”

  Privet placed a strong hand on Alder’s bony shoulder. “Hey, I’m not trying to take your place. You know that, right?”

  Alder shook his head. “It’s quite all right. If marrying you will make her happy, then I am happy.” He took out a handkerchief and coughed painfully into it. “Your abdominal muscles in particular were quite fascinating to her, as well as your tight…ahem. We should probably proceed. This is technically my dinner break.”

  Alder reached out to grab Privet’s hand, but he stilled him. “Okay, but let’s just assume for a second that Deutzia rejects me, what would happen?”

  Alder tilted his head in thought. “If memory serves, she will shriek and attempt to throw you into the sea.”

  “What? You didn’t say anything about that before.”

  “Is it really important? It’s a fairly low probability, after all.”

  “Still important!”

  * * *

  “Presenting Duke Relivan of Saint Seychell.”

  The wiry man crossed a leg behind him and bowed, fanning out his opera cape as wide as he could. “Queen Forsythia, thank you for extending an invitation for my people to attend your conference and join the Alliance. Given the bad blood that existed between us and your grandmother, I cannot help but be touched at your congeniality.”

  Queen Forsythia extended her hand in a polished glide. “That season has passed. As the winter gives way to the spring; now is the time for us to set aside our differences and unite against a common foe.”

  Two of the Duke’s wives brought forth a finely crafted vase, filled with an impeccably arranged bouquet of Seychellian flowers.

  “As is my custom, I present you with Nuriha’chuu, a gift of brotherhood...or in this case sisterhood, or…sibling…hood.”

  The courtiers could not hide their disgust. To present chopped and dying flowers to the Queen of the Forest in her own throne room was unthinkable. It was beyond offensive. They could actually feel the poor flowers screaming in pain as they tried to draw up water through their stalks instead of their roots, barely clinging to agonizing life.

  The Queen, however, remained icily calm, reaching out and taking the vase as if it were a treasure.

  “The forest accepts this gift in the spirit in which it is given,” she said graciously.

  Then her eyes went wide. Her face blushed bright red. Her fingers trembled; her breathing became a rapid pant.

  “Oh…oh my…” she stammered.

  “My Queen are you all right?”

  Gripping the vase by its neck, she clutched her fist over her heaving chest. “My…my heart it feels like…ohh. It’s beating so fast…”

  Losing her grip on the vase, it fell to the floor and shattered. The Queen slumped to one knee, perspiration forming on her brow. Her circlet fell low on her face, and one of her braids popped loose and fell across her cheek.

  Several of the men and guards rushed to her aid.

  “This…this feeling is…” she gasped breathily.

  Duke Relivan stood up, looking indignantly at the wet and shattered remains of Nuriha’chuu soaking into the wood of the hall.

  “So, this is how you treat a gift of brotherhood?” he spat. “Perhaps it was a mistake in coming here.”

  The Queen extended her hand. “No wait, Duke Relivan, please let me explain,” she huffed, trying to push past the powerful emotions that were overwhelming her.

  With a dramatic flip of his cape, Relivan spun around and strode for the exit.

  Athel gritted her teeth in frustration. “Deutzia…”

  * * *

  Deutzia’s entire frame was shaking with joy. She wrapped her branches further around Privet, rocking him back and forth energetically. Pressing him so hard against her trunk that he struggled to breathe.

  “That big tree loves you lots!” Bunni cheered.

  Alder could only watch in awe. Deutzia was shimmering so brightly he had to shield his eyes with his hand. “Amazing, I have never seen that strong a reaction before.”

  “So, I guess this means I passed?” Privet grunted.

  “You passed, all right. Even if Athel didn’t want to marry you, Deutzia would probably force her to anyway at this point.”

  Privet tried to squirm free, but Deutzia held him fast, twinkling and sparkling happily in the language of trees. “Do you think Athel sensed any of this?”

  Alder shook his head. “Oh, I highly doubt it.”

  Alder heard a twig snap behind him. When he turned around, he met a dozen Treesingers, all of them with pistols drawn.

  “…But I have been wrong before.”

  Bunni covered her large eyes with her tiny hands. “Guns are scary,” she said, sticking her tongue out.

  * * *

  The wind whipped through the tall pocketed rock spires, creating an eerie flute-like noise. Molly drew in her fur jacket closer in around her neck as she peaked out over the edge of the pathway they were on, the dizzying heights making her squeal with fright and cling to Mandi’s leg even tighter.

  “Careful, you’ll knock us both over,” Mandi warned, her long blonde hair whipping about in the wind as she ran her fingers over the cold rock, looking for a better handhold.

  “I’m scared,” the young girl whimpered. Mandi broke her concentration and looked down at her companion sympathetically. The girl’s hair had only just started to grow back, leaving her with a boyish crew cut that still managed to look cute somehow, thanks to the bow clipped into it.

  “Don’t worry,” Mandi assured, placing her hand tenderly on Molly’s cheek. “I promise I won’t let you fall.”

  Molly looked up with her trusting eyes, and allowed Mandi to take her hand and lead her further down the path.

  “Ah, here it is, I knew it was around here somewhere,” Mandi said as she lead them into an offshoot from the path. Nestled between two vertical rock walls, it was little more than a crack in the side of the mountain, leading back about a dozen paces, then branching in two, each branch itself ending just a few paces further.

  Glad to be out of the wind, Molly took a moment to breathe into her
cupped hands to stave off the cold, even though Mandi told her it worked better to just put her gloves on instead.

  Leaving Molly at the junction, Mandi stepped a few paces down the right branch and began chanting to herself at the wall.

  Glancing down the left branch, Molly gasped in fright. “There’s another lady back there!” she hollered.

  “Where?” Mandi turned around, and at the exact same moment, the other woman did the same. They had the same face, the same coat, and they moved in unison.

  Molly looked down the left path, then the right, then back down the left one again. “There’s two of you.”

  Realizing what was happening, Mandi chuckled. “It’s all right, they’re both me.”

  Molly tilted her head like a puppy. “How can there be two of you?”

  To illustrate her point, Mandi waved to Molly, her copy doing the same. “This path is folded back in on itself, to keep anyone from finding this secret entrance. Not even Vestum himself knows about this Kabal lair hidden within his own lands.”

  Molly didn’t understand, but decided that she didn’t care if she understood, and instead took out a candy stick to suck on.

  “You’ll get yourself all sticky,” Mandi warned as she resumed her chanting.

  Molly shrugged, tugging on her short hair. “I like being sticky.”

  The rock responded to Mandi’s chanting, and the two branches began to move, growing closer and closer to one another, until they finally fused into a single pathway. Once they had, Mandi was standing not at a dead end, but at an inscribed archway.

  “Come on.”

  Mandi silently strode in, Molly’s feet pattering quickly to catch up to her. When they reached the bottom of the stone stairs, they found rows of dark glass containers, filled with a pulsating green liquid.

  Molly wrapped her arms around Mandi’s leg. “Are these like the tanks they put me in?” she whimpered.

  Mandi reached down and patted her head. “It’s all right. These ones are empty.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to make sure they can never be used to hurt any more little girls ever again.”

  Mandi removed her coat, and then her flesh tore itself apart, sloughing down to the floor as her black bones took on a larger, hunching form. Her skin and muscle slid back up, forming powerful muscles and leathery skin. Finally, a thin layer of rough black hair sprouted out on her arms and back, and big rocky teeth filled her maw.