Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  “I agree, but that is why we were sent here. It really would be best if we sat down and discussed the details with your…um…you know what? I’m really not sure what to call you.”

  Poe placed a glowing finger on his chin and smiled. “How about Mr. Poe, the Great and Powerful?”

  Ryin stared at him for a moment. “Ah sure, okay. Mr. Poe, the Great and Powerful, shall we find a private place to talk? I think you will find Queen Forsythia’s proposals most fair to…”

  Poe stuck out his tongue. “You can’t parlay on an empty stomach. How about some tiramisu?”

  With a wave of his hand, a scrumptious dessert appeared in Ryin’s mouth, inflating his cheeks.

  “Ack!”

  As Ryin bent over and coughed the intrusive dessert out of his throat. Hanner gave him a slap on the back to expel the rest. “Look, we’ve played your squattin’ games, Poe, and you’ve been a good host, but now it’s time for business, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I say, nay! You’ve played games, but haven’t won yet.”

  “Why should that matter?”

  “No one could be truly happy in Paradise until they have won a game.”

  “I didn’t lose, I let her win,” Ryin hacked, spitting out a chunk of mocha.

  Hanner stepped up and looked over the glowing menu. “Fine, you wanna’ play a game? Let’s play a game. You make a dessert, and if I can eat it, you sign the treaty.”

  Poe twirled around excitedly. “Oh, I like this. What’s your stakes?”

  Hanner licked his purple tongue over dry lips. “You got anything here with some punch to it? Maybe something with ghost peppers?”

  Poe grinned excitedly. “Just how hot do you like it?”

  Hanner gave a deep masculine chuckle and folded his arms. “Just how hot can you make it?”

  Poe’s mischievous smile nearly split his face in two. He rubbed his hands together, and when his pulled them apart, a beautiful red sundae fell into Hanner’s waiting grip, the bowl sizzling where the peppered contents made content. A gentle fire rose up off the tip of the cream like a candle.

  Hanner gave the concoction an approving sniff, then grabbed the sizzling spoon.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Layla asked worriedly.

  “Don’t worry,” Ryin assured, wiping his face off. “Hanner here has a cast-iron stomach. I saw him eat a stove plate once by accident.”

  “By accident?”

  “Yeah, some whip cream fell on it and he thought it was a burnt waffle. Anyway, don’t worry, there’s nothing that could beat his gut. Not in a million billion years.”

  Hanner confidently put the first bite in his mouth.

  While Hanner recovered in the healing ward, Layla took them on the stroll down the pier walk, basically a hovering causeway that wove through the floating city like a cobblestone ribbon. Despite a lifetime of living on airships, Ryin had trouble keeping his feet about him. Up and down just didn’t seem to mean anything in this place. He’d look up and find himself looking down through the open big top of a carnival tent, watching from above as children rode on elephants and fed zebras, then he’d look to his right, and find a large floating ball of water filled with exotic freshwater fish, the women of Hatronesia hefting up orphans so they could reach inside and touch the slick scales of scarlet eels through the rippling surface. Ellie laughed when he nearly stumbled off the edge of the walkway, which startled him quite a bit, even though Layla assured him that a fall from any distance here would do him no harm. After some mucking about, he found that by focusing on the distant horizon, he could more or less keep his senses about him.

  Where the causeway linked up with the top of a rocky spire, Layla led them to a gorgeous open-aired pavilion, surrounded by bright orange and yellow jungle flowers that gave off a warm radiance. Several women were there, braiding each other’s golden hair. When they saw Ryin, they whispered and pointed, giggling to one another in hushed and luscious tones.

  “This place truly is paradise, I’m going to thank Athel till the day I die.”

  “Yeah, well, you can thank her later, right now I’m ready for some real food,” Ellie said, running up to a roadside grill.

  “Welcome visitors!” Poe greeted as he popped up, wearing a chef’s hat.

  “Ahh!” Ryin jumped back, covering his chest with his hand. “I see you work here too.”

  Poe created a glowing spatula in one hand, a grilling fork in the other. “What can I get for my friends? Steak? Sausage? Candy canes?”

  Poe leaned in closer, looking at Ryin sidelong. “Perhaps another spice challenge?”

  Ryin stepped back, sweat dripping down his cheek. In his mind he could still hear Hanner’s screams of pain. “Ah, after seeing what happened to my shipmate, I think I’ll try to win against someone that…isn’t you.”

  I’ll take the tilapia sandwich,” Ellie asked politely, and Poe happily went to work.

  “Why do you sell candy canes at a grill?” Ryin asked, looking at the glowing sign.

  “I serve everything everywhere,” Poe responded as he juggled the ingredients in the air before him.

  “So, why call it a grill?”

  “Because I get to wear this fancy hat when it’s called a grill.”

  A pebble hit Ryin on the shoulder, drawing his attention to the left, where a small drink stand stood. Poe waved at him from over there, wearing a soda jerk hat.

  “Oh wow, you’re over there too.”

  “He can do that,” Ellie explained.

  “I see that.”

  “He can be in as many places at once as he needs to be.”

  Ryin looked up, and saw Poe sitting on some scaffolding attached to a building, washing the windows happily in a pair of overalls. Then, beyond him, he saw Poe wearing a janitor’s cap and sweeping up an entryway.

  “Oh wow, even Pops couldn’t top this.”

  “Who’s Pops?” Layla asked.

  Ryin looked around, and saw Poe at least a dozen more times, building, cleaning, polishing, and entertaining the orphans.

  “So, does, like anyone actually work around here?”

  “What is work?” Layla asked innocently.

  “Guess that answers that.”

  “Does this surprise you?”

  “Well…yeah, actually. I mean, a god that waits on every single one of his children hand and foot? Sign me up.”

  Layla clapped her hands enthusiastically, her wings trembling. “Do you wish to renounce the dream of Maltua and wake up to become one of Poe’s playmates?”

  Concern washed over Ryin’s face as he looked at Poe floating there happily. “Ah, no offense...”

  Layla was crushed. “You do not like Poe?”

  “No, it’s not that. Maltua doesn’t really let people…leave him. He’s like a pirate guild that way. Last guy that tried…well, let’s just say we’re still finding pieces of him splattered about.”

  Ellie took her sandwich and sat down. Poe waved his hand and created a nice comfortable chair beneath her. “I know you don’t know any better Layla, but you really shouldn’t ask people things like that. Belonging to a god isn’t something you can just cancel like a contract. The Goddess Chalcion is a part of me, and I am a part of her. It would be like tearing out a piece out of my own soul.”

  Layla looked down sadly, her wings drooping. “Oh.”

  “Hey, hey, we’re all friends here,” Ryin soothed, taking Layla’s hand. “This is Paradise, and no one should be sad in Paradise, right?”

  “Indubitably,” Poe said, picking up a bell and ringing it to award him five points.

  “Does that mean we can discuss the treaty now?” Ryin asked hopefully.

  “No, but you’re five points closer.”

  Layla looked up at Ryin and blushed in thanks.

  “So don’t be mean to
her, Squirt,” Ryin said. “She meant no harm.”

  Ellie chewed on her sandwich. “Mean? I’m not mean. I’m just…honest.”

  “No, you’re rude and overly competitive.”

  “I’m overly competitive?”

  Ryin lifted up Layla’s delicate hand and kissed it. “And a delicate flower like Layla deserves gentler treatment.”

  Layla blushed even more deeply as Ryin led her away. Ellie looked around, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Oh come on, really, Layla? That’s like the sappiest line ever, how could you fall for that?”

  Layla wrapped her arm around Ryin’s waist as they walked off together. Ryin took a second to peek back over her wing and stick out his tongue at Ellie, who fumed and took a big, honking bite of her sandwich.

  Ryin couldn’t remember the last time he felt so excited about the future. The horrors of the war seemed worlds away as he and Layla sat on a bench amid the sweet smelling jungle blossoms, watching the sun lazily melt into the horizon. Even the ocean managed to seem tranquil at this distance, the thirsting swells and grasping tentacles nothing more than glints of light, barely even registering at the edge of vision. All seemed peaceful, almost hopeful even, and in his heart he felt grateful just to be alive.

  Layla leaned over and rested her head against his shoulder. Her scent was different from that of Ferran women. It was light, with a hint of sweetness to it, like faintly roasting hazelnuts. He found it intoxicating.

  “Today was really fun,” she said dreamily, running her fingers up and down his biceps.

  “It was fun,” he said, trying to make his voice sound a little deeper and manlier. “But don’t your people have any other games?”

  She sat up and blinked. “Like guessing games?”

  “No, I mean, like other games.”

  She tilted her head. “Word riddles?”

  “No, I mean like games just between two people. You know. Two adults.”

  Layla furrowed her brow. “Are you talking about…procreation?”

  Ryin clapped his hands. “Yes! Oh definitely yes. Oh, I’m so glad you understand. I was starting to worry that you didn’t have that here.”

  She shrugged. “Of course we do that. We call it Eveershive. It is done all the time.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.”

  Layla’s wings spread open as her jaw dropped in surprise. “Are you saying that…you want to do that…with me?”

  Ryin’s eyes darted about. “Well, yeah! That would be awesome.”

  She placed her hands over her heart and drew her wings in close. “Oh wow, I didn’t think I was worthy of such an honor.”

  Ryin snorted. “Oh, you are definitely worthy.”

  She perked up and gave a beautiful smile. “All right, let’s go then.”

  Ryin was so stunned by her declaration he could barely answer. “What, right now?”

  She gave an alluring grin. “Why wait?”

  “Well…actually you know what? You’re right, why wait?”

  Ryin stood up proudly, and presented his arm to her.

  “Come, I’ll take you to my love nest,” she bade, pulling him along.

  “Oh, I like the sound of that!”

  By the time they reached the door to her apartment, Ryin was so excited he found he could barely keep a thought in his head or remember to breathe.

  Oh, I am finally going to…this is so exciting. I’m going to be grateful to Athel forever and ever.

  She opened the door and showed him inside. It was sparse, but nice, with a good view of the lake and many shelves filled with her favorite things. Shell necklaces she had made, wreaths of flowers she had twisted, wooden figures of Poe she had carved, and various baubles from distant lands she had acquired somehow.

  Layla spun around excitedly, leaning up against the inner door to the bedchamber. Her skin was beautiful and flushed, her eyes soft and dewy, her wings trembling with anticipation.

  “Are you ready?” she asked in her sensual dulcet tones.

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been ready for a decade.”

  “Well, then, let us begin Eveershive.”

  As Ryin walked towards her, she flung open the doors, releasing a rush of cool sparkling ivory air. Inside, was a large woven nest, upon which three large eggs rested.

  Ryin froze in place. “What…what is this?”

  “It is my love nest, of course,” she said proudly. “I told you I would bring you to it.”

  Ryin felt like the gears in his brain were threatening to fall out. “Well, yeah but…I didn’t think it was an…an actual nest.”

  Layla giggled and placed a flower in her golden hair. “Of course it is. All Hatronesian females lay three eggs when we become adults. Those eggs sleep here, protected in the nest, until a male finds her worthy of Eveershive, and awakens the eggs by spreading pollen from his wings onto them.”

  Ryin’s face fell into his trembling hands. “Athel must have known about this.”

  Layla fluttered over to her mirror and began primping her hair. “I can’t tell you how excited I am. We have so few males, there is a lot of competition for their attention, as you can imagine. When you and your friends arrived here, I just had a feeling about you. You seemed so lost and lonely, like a little sad puppy, I just knew I could easily win your approval.”

  Ryin gritted his teeth. “That wicked little leaf-witch. I swear…I’m going to get her back for this if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Layla turned around and took a bite out of an apple, growing concerned. “Are you not going to begin spreading your pollen?”

  Ryin threw his head back and screamed. “CURSE YOU, ATHEL FORSYTHIA!”

  * * *

  The temple of Milia was open-roofed, the walls of living white trunks giving way to lush branches of ivory blossoms that parted above, allowing columns of sunlight to fall down upon the small garden of Nallorn saplings. Nourished by shimmering channels of amber milk, they unfurled their first tender leaves, drawing strength from the purest soil of all. Ma’anni tui’iva, ground from the heartwood of trees past. Thus, the previous generation passed a bit of themselves to the next, a continuous cycle of renewed life. An unbroken link that stretched back forever. That was the way of women, the way of the forest.

  Orlaya Oleander sung quietly to herself as she walked along the row of saplings, her white robes glowing in the sunlight. As light as a feather, her fingers caressed the tender stalks, and each grew a few inches under her care.

  She could feel their minds slumbering, some stirring on the edge of consciousness, their spirits tossing back and forth, as if in a dream. She comforted them with her song and with her powers, telling them without words that when they finally awakened, they would be safe among sisters.

  When her ivory fingers touched the final sapling, it did not grow, instead, it began to glow dimly.

  “Oh, is it time, little one?” Orlaya gushed, lacing her fingers together excitedly.

  Threads of gold began rising up the stalk as the young tree trembled.

  “It is!” Orlaya said, jumping up and down. “This is my favorite part.”

  “Is it time?” Delphinium asked, poking her head around the statue of Milia, her hands braiding her golden hair.

  “Yes, come here, sis!” Orlaya bade, waving her hands.

  Delphinium ran as fast as she could, nearly stumbling over herself as she tied her hair off so it would be out of the way.

  The two priestly sisters held hands, grateful that this joyous occasion had occurred on their watch. The young tree glowed brighter and brighter, until it was as if it were made of light itself. It stretched and stretched, its young stalk popping and crackling, then the light burst like a bubble, and the tree shivered into wakefulness.

  “Catalumbrah, young one,” they said reverentially, placing their hands over t
heir hearts.

  The young tree looked about, as if confused.

  “My name is Orlaya Oleander, and this is my sister Delphinium, but we just call her Delphie.”

  “Don’t tell her that,” Delphinium chided, elbowing her in the side.

  “Welcome to the forest of Milia,” Orlaya said, rubbing her ribs.

  The tree hesitated, then sparkled thankfully.

  “We were starting to think you’d never wake up. All the others in your nursery were planted some weeks ago.”

  The tree shimmered worriedly.

  “Oh no, there is nothing wrong with being a late bloomer,” Orlaya soothed. “My twin Amaryllis took longer than you even.”

  “Orlaya is the same way,” Delphinium shared. “She’s late to every shift here at the temple because no one can get her out of bed in the morning.”

  “Stop it,” Orlaya said, kicking her sister in the shin.

  “Ow, don’t kick me!”

  The tree sighed in relief.

  “May we ask your name?”

  The tree glittered happily.

  The two priestesses stared at the tree, blinking.

  “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

  The tree glittered again.

  The two sisters stared in disbelief. “Wait…say that one more time.”

  The tree glittered intently.

  Orlaya and Delphinium looked at each other in shock.

  “What did you say?” High Priestess Oleander asked, rising up out of her ivory chair, knocking her scripture binding off her desk.

  “It’s a male tree,” Orlaya repeated, bubbling with excitement. “The first one in a millennia. Can you believe it?!”

  “Impossible.”

  “It’s true,” Delphinium confirmed. “His name is Trillium. We linked with him twice just to make sure.”

  The High Priestess placed her creamy wrinkled hand over her mouth and sat back down. “This is most troubling. If this were made known…” She shot a wary eye at her daughters. “Who have you told?”

  The priestesses looked at each other worriedly. “No one, mother.”

  Oleander looked over at her staff on its rack. “If you linked, then half the forest knows already. How could you be so careless?”