Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  Alder lowered his eyes sadly. “She would brutally punish anyone who corrected her, even if he was only trying to look out for her and protect her best interests by doing so.”

  Alder’s weak little frame flinched a little, as if remembering the pain. Even though he was fully dressed, Athel felt like she could clearly see the deep scars criss-crossing across his back.

  “That I would be fortunate enough to be given to a kind and generous and wonderful woman like you…well…it’s more than I ever hoped for.”

  Alder looked deeply into her eyes. It was still a little difficult for him to do, even after all this time. His training still had quite a hold on him. “I love you, Athi.”

  Her lip trembling, Athel reached out and embraced him. She hugged him as hard as she could, hoping against hope that she could somehow suck the pain out of him. In that moment, she lamented more deeply than she ever had before that men could not link through the trees. If they could, she could take his pain upon herself. As it was, all she could do was love him, and hope that was enough.

  “I’m so sorry Aldi,” she whispered. “I wish I could change the way you were treated. I wish I could make it better.”

  “But you can, Athi.”

  Athel ran her hands up along his back. Even through the fabric, she could feel his scars. “No, I can’t.”

  “Not for me, but for the others.”

  Athel furrowed her brow. “How?”

  “You are the Queen. Once you announce our son Ash as your heir, it will change the way the women of this island think of their men. It will change the way they treat them. Think about it. There are tens of thousands of young boys whose lives will be improved.”

  Athel’s eyes went wide with fear. “I…I can’t do that. There would be an open revolt! The Buckthorns and the Greenbriers would immediately call for my expulsion. And the Bursages…they would call for my head.”

  “But, you do not serve them, my Queen. You serve Milia’s law.”

  Athel was terrified at the prospect of what he was suggesting. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She knew what he was saying made sense. She knew what he was saying was the law. She knew what he was saying was probably right. But still…

  “I can see that this is difficult for you,” Alder sympathized.

  “You have no idea…” In her mind, she could see a thousand different ways that this could play out, and all of them seemed to end in disaster.

  Alder knelt before her. “May I teach you something?”

  “I…suppose…”

  “Thank you. I know it is not my place.”

  Alder reached over to where Bunni Bubbles sat, coloring on her mini-tablet with some chalk. “Bunni, may I borrow one of your pieces of chalk?”

  “No,” she said, pulling the tablet away. “I’m drawing a unicorn.”

  “Please,” Alder implored.

  Bunni struggled. “Okay, you can have the brown one, I don’t need it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Alder wiped off a spare tablet and drew a symbol. One long line on one side, three smaller lines on the other, all coming together like a chevron, but with the single line reaching up over the others.

  “In the current tongue, this is the Wysterian symbol for people,” Alder explained. “The lines lean up against one another, signifying the way we all rely on one another. But, if you pay attention, they do not lean against each other equally. The larger line leans while the smaller lines support it. That is because, in reality, the Wysterian concept of people consists of two unequal groups, one of which exists solely to support the other.”

  Athel considered his words. “I never really thought of it that way.”

  Alder wiped the tablet clean. “Now, if you look at the old tongue, you’ll see that the same word, “people” was written like this:”

  He drew three sets of symbols in a chevron pattern, each consisting of two parallel lines of equal height, side by side.

  “Notice how the lines are paired and equal. I believe this indicates that the ancient concept of “people” was that of a collection of couples. Radically different from our current paradigm. Now, I believe that somewhere in our history, our island experienced a cultural shift that explains this radically different definition.”

  Athel raised an eyebrow. “And you’re deducing all of this based on calligraphy?”

  Alder straightened his shirt. “A great many things can be learned from calligraphy. The way we express ideas doesn’t simply facilitate communication, it creates the framework of shared concepts that makes communication possible in the first place.”

  “Except that written and spoken communication are fundamentally inferior to communicating through the forest itself. Sure they are useful for record keeping or talking to foreigners, but compared to linking spirits, they are slow, imprecise, and bothersome to use.”

  “You are correct, of course Athi. I cannot explain why our men are the only beings in Aetria with no magic of their own, or why they cannot link to the trees. Nevertheless, it is my fervent belief that in ancient times the position of Ruler of the Forest was held by a couple. A wife and husband.”

  “You mean the Queen of the Forest,” she corrected.

  “No, I mean the Ruler of the Forest. ‘Queen of the Forest’ is a modern term. It doesn’t appear anywhere in the scrolls. The scriptures always refer to the Ruler of the Forest.”

  Athel was doubtful. “Are you sure about that? Maybe I should have Lady Cypress double check…”

  Alder sighed.

  Athel held up her hands. “Sorry, you’re right. You wouldn’t say it if you weren’t sure.”

  “Thank you. Now, if you give me some time and access to the sealed archives, I believe I can put together a very persuasive presentation that we can show to the Matrons…”

  Athel couldn’t help but laugh out loud. She stopped when she noticed how much it hurt him. “I’m sorry Alder, I shouldn’t have laughed. It’s just…well; it’s adorable that you think they can be so easily persuaded.”

  This troubled him greatly.

  “Could it be that their prejudice runs so deep that they would ignore the law?” he wondered.

  “It’s not prejudice, Aldi.”

  “What else could you call it?”

  “I…I don’t know. But, it’s not prejudice. It’s just the way things are.”

  Alder’s face tightened a little. “Forgive me for saying so, my Queen, but it always seems like it’s just the way things are when it is happening to somebody else.”

  There was a harsh knock at the door, and the hall opened wide to an enraged Lady Bursage. Like a demon she walked up to the throne, a crumpled scroll in her fist.

  “How dare you tell me how to conduct business in my own household!” she yelled, throwing the wad at the Queen’s feet. “Not even your mother had the audacity to command how I treat my own.”

  The Queen calmly looked down at the scroll. “But they are not part of your household. The navy personnel stationed here are guests only. They come from different cultures with different traditions.”

  “If they are living under my roof, they will obey my rule.”

  “That is not their way. What’s more, their rights are guaranteed by the treaty the forest signed with them. The forest must uphold its agreements.”

  Madam Bursage threw up her arms. “So, do we simply abandon Milia’s laws the minute they become inconvenient?”

  “I’m not sure Milia’s laws address the issue of foreigners living temporarily within our borders.”

  “How convenient for you!”

  Queen Forsythia serenely placed her hands on her staff. “As I am attempting to do Milia’s will, I find it decidedly inconvenient that the law is not more specific on this point.”

  “Bah!”

  While Madam Bursage ranted and
raved a string of insults, The Queen closed her eyes for a moment and explored the limitless branches of possibilities. The Bursages were powerful, and held almost as much influence with the other Matrons as the Forsythians. Staunch traditionalists, they believed sternly in the class system, that it was the responsibility of the Braihmin class to set an example to the others. Athel searched for a solution that would allow Madam Bursage to save face. If she simply commanded the Bursages, it would plant a seed of discontent in their hearts, and within a decade, they would be rivals. It wasn’t enough to simply resolve the issue in the short term. A Forsythian Queen had to shape the future seasons ahead of time. Finally, she found what she was looking for.

  “I believe there is a compromise,” Queen Forsythia suggested. “A way for you to maintain your traditions within your house, while honoring our treaties. We will move around some of our guests, so that only female navy officers reside within your domain. I trust this is acceptable to you?”

  “Compromise,” Madam Bursage spat. “If you were really trying to do Milia’s will, you never would have invited those filthy foreigners to come here to begin with.”

  “We cannot defeat the monolith by ourselves. The forest needs them if it is to survive. You agreed to this course of action, as did we all. This was not decided by just one person.”

  Madam Bursage spun around, taking a moment at the doorway to hurl out one final barb. “Perhaps if you had been more forthright in what would come of it, the forest would not have been so quick to agree.”

  Even Alder was aghast at the sharpness of her words.

  Although she didn’t show it, her words hurt Athel deeply. Madam Bursage knew perfectly well that Athel had held nothing back. She had completely opened herself up to the scrutiny of the forest when she became Queen. She had torn her heart asunder, exposing every embarrassing and secret place, to be sifted through and scrutinized by all. It had been the most humiliating experience of her life, so to have it so casually dismissed and even accused of deception was hurtful indeed.

  Unable to hide her pain, Athel closed the door and released her staff and withdrew from the link for a time, at least until she could get her feelings under control.

  Alder walked over and put his arms around her sympathetically. “I am sorry, Athi. I see now what you mean about the other Matrons. I failed to appreciate how difficult a position I am placing you in.”

  He stepped before her and bowed deeply. “I apologize.”

  Athel shook her head. “Please don’t bow to me. At least not when we’re alone together.”

  “Very well.”

  She forced herself not to cry. “You’re right. I am prejudiced. I just didn’t see it until it affected someone I cared about. Our whole island, all the women, are so prejudiced against the men they can barely see straight. I mean, look at how Madam Bursage reacted just because I told her she cannot beat the men of the navy or deprive them of food. You’d think I had stolen her family crest or something. When I think about my son being ruled over by women like her…I see it now for what it really is. Privet was right; we do treat them like slaves. I guess I just…didn’t want to see it.”

  She looked up at him. “Even still, it won’t do any good to try and persuade the hard-liners. There are some things even the Queen cannot change.”

  “But will you at least let me try?”

  She moved to deny him, but then thought better of it. “Yes, I’ll give you access to the archives. It would be wrong for me not to at least give you that.”

  Alder started to bow, but caught himself. “Thank you.”

  Athel sniffed. Just looking at him made her feel a little better. “But, you have to promise not to mark up the records if you find any spelling or grammatical errors, okay?”

  “I will try to restrain myself.”

  She grabbed his hand. “Aldi, I am serious, do not proofread our holy scrolls.”

  He smiled warmly. “Of course I won’t.”

  Suddenly there was a sharp ping of energy followed by a distant explosion. The royal tree rocked slowly from side to side. Athel and Alder’s eyes went wide and they looked at each other.

  “The baby!”

  Even in her queenly robes, Athel managed to outdistance her bodyguards as she rounded the corner and arrived at her bedchambers, where she found a handful of black guards taking cover in the hallway, blasts of sonic energy tearing through the doorway and slamming into the walls of the corridor.

  “My Queen, thank Milia you are here,” High Priestess Oleander called out over the noise, looking relieved. “Please call off your guard dogs, I came here and they attacked me.”

  Alder’s eyes were wide with panic, but the Queen was icily calm. “Mina, Allister, I am here; please hold your fire.”

  The magical attacks stopped, and the Queen stepped into the ruined doorway, to find Mina and Captain Evere holed up in a corner, where bed frames and cushions had been gathered together into makeshift defenses.

  “What happened?”

  “She tried to barge in here and take the baby!” Captain Evere bellowed as he cradled Ash in his arms.

  The Queen turned her cold gaze to the High Priestess. “Is this true?”

  Oleander backed off a little at the accusation. “I…I am here as part of an official church tribunal. I should not need anyone’s permission to enter, much less theirs. I really don’t know what to think right now. In all my long years I have never been treated so shamefully. Forgive me for saying so, but how can you run your household like this? Do your dogs even realize that attacking a Priestess of Milia can be punishable by death?”

  “I dare you to call me that again,” Mina snarled, a ball of energy in her claws, ready to throw.

  Alder trembled as he looked at the Black Guards, clutching their staffs. He knew all too well that a single word from the High Priestess and this would end in bloodshed.

  Queen Forsythia stepped in between them and tried to pacify the situation.

  “May I ask the subject of your tribunal?”

  Oleander straightened her robes, obviously pleased to be speaking with someone rational again. “Yes, of course. There is a rumor spreading through the forest that your son has developed demonic powers. The church has sent me to ascertain the validity of those rumors and render judgment as necessary.”

  The Queen calmly stepped into her bedchambers and motioned for the High Priestess to follow her. “The rumors are true; Ash does have magic, although I think it would be premature to call his powers demonic.”

  She brought the High Priestess and her Black Guard over to a collection of flower vases from a dozen different cultures and styles, all dusted with the ash from flowers destroyed by the baby’s touch.

  Oleander could not hide her abhorrence.

  “Premature?” she repeated, her trembling hand reaching out to the dusty plant remains. “My Queen, no matter how much soft language you use, you cannot downplay the severity of this. A man who kills trees is an affront to Milia.”

  Queen Forsythia templed her hands atop her staff. “We do not know Milia’s will in this matter.”

  Oleander knelt down and said a prayer in the old tongue and waved her hand over the ashes, blessing the spirits of the plants as they returned to become part of Milia again. When she finished she stood up, her eyes resolute. “It is perfectly obvious that Milia would oppose a man with the ability to kill her daughters. As speaker for Milia, I can assure you of that.”

  “He is not a man, he is a baby,” Mina pleaded, placing her hands gently on Ash’s soft little head.

  “What is wrong with you Wysterians?” Captain Evere hollered, holding the baby tighter against his barrel chest. “Don’t you have any natural affection towards your little ones?”

  Oleander’s lip trembled in anger. “I should not have to stand here and be judged by a Tomani in my own lands. You gypsy scum! Do you th
ink I enjoy issuing a death sentence to a newborn? No, it tears me apart inside. I have been avoiding this for days. In my heart, I have been dreading the possibility of this day ever since this man was born. But, protecting the forest is more important than my own feelings.”

  The Black Guard tightened their grip on their weapons. The Queen’s guards did the same. Both sides stared each other down, waiting like coiled springs; ready to snap into action the instant they received the order.

  The High Priestess turned to the Queen, meeting her gaze with a will to rival hers. “I know you understand that.”

  “All too well,” the Queen said icily. “I, too, have sacrificed my heart to the forest, so I feel a kinship to you. Even now, as we disagree, I do not feel in my heart that you are my enemy.”

  Oleander’s face softened. “I am relieved to hear that. My greatest fear today is that you would grow to hate me for fulfilling my duties.”

  “No magic in this world can bring back the dead; therefore it behooves us to be cautious when dealing out judgment in the course of our duties. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “He kills plants, it is sacrilege. What more evidence do we need?”

  Oleander placed a tender hand against the wall, communing with the royal tree. “What if he were to use it to kill a Nallorn tree?”

  Alder was appalled at the suggestion. The Queen was passive.

  “That would be serious, I agree, High Priestess, but so far he seems to only use it on dying plants like these decapitated flowers the foreigners keep giving me as gifts.”

  Oleander shook her head. “Monstrous.”