Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  “Oh no,” Margaret warned, pushing her glasses up from the tip of her nose. “You don’t want to do that. Believe me, when something is bothering you, you just swallow it down. You choose to be the bigger person and be the peacemaker.” Margaret’s eyes became distant. “Just hide it deep inside of you, where no one will ever see it. Make sure that no one’s feelings get hurt except your own. Just let it sit there until it begins to fester and becomes an illness. Just squash it down until you can’t take it anymore, and you feel like you want to scream all the time.” Margaret’s eyes slanted, her lips twisting into a snarl. “Then, one day when no one is looking, you set your room on fire, and you jump on the first ship you can find. You watch the smoke until it is just a little wisp on the horizon...”

  Margaret snapped out of her trance and looked up. Everyone was staring at her. Some people still had food in their mouths, but were no longer chewing.

  “...Hypothetically speaking, of course,” Margaret finished, her cheeks blushing brightly with embarrassment.

  “Well, I disagree with Margaret,” Athel opined. “If there is a problem, you should confront it and deal with it.”

  Mina took a moment and forced herself to calm down. “Athel, sweetie, I love that you care so much, but you are still a newlywed. Evere and I have been married a long time, and you just can’t...”

  “Mesdans smell.” Evere grunted, cutting Mina off.

  Mina wrinkled her nose. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me,” Evere insisted. “Mesdans stink. I can’t stand it. Every time I get a good whiff of you, it triggers my gag reflex.”

  Mina chuckled calmly, but there was nothing calm in her eyes. “No, I’m sure you are mistaken, I most certainly do not smell bad.”

  Evere looked right back at her. When he didn’t back down, Mina looked around at the others for confirmation, but each of them intentionally avoided her glare.

  “Fine, I'll ask Alder then,” Mina growled.

  “Why me?” Alder squeaked.

  “Because I know you won’t lie to me. Tell me, do I smell bad?”

  Alder’s eyes flickered towards the doorway, and for a second it looked like he might flee. Instead, he stood up tall as he could and straightened out his uniform. “Mrs. Duvare, you are one of the cleanest individuals I have ever met. You bathe and clean yourself impeccably on a daily basis,” he began.

  “See, I told...”

  “However, your natural musk is quite pungent.”

  Mina’s arms fell down at her side.

  “I am sure you Mesdans do not even notice it,” Alder soothed, “but to outsiders it can be quite strong.”

  Mina could only stand there, looking deflated.

  “See, this is good,” Ryin encouraged. “Now that this is out in the open, we can deal with it.”

  Mina sat down and pulled out a small notebook and began writing in it.

  “What is that?” Evere asked.

  “This is my grudge diary,” Mina growled. “Normally, I’d wait till later but I’m just too upset right now to wait.”

  “Your what?”

  “A grudge diary is where she writes down every wrong or insult ever done to her for future use,” Alder explained.

  “Future use?”

  “In an argument, for instance, or when demanding a favor,” Alder elucidated.

  “Wait, how would you know about her grievance journal?” Evere demanded.

  Alder blinked. “All women keep a grudge diary.”

  Evere laughed mightily. “No, they don’t.”

  Athel reached into her belt and pulled out a small pink notebook and waved it around. Margaret reached into her purse and took out a tome so large that it rattled the table when she set it down. All the men stared at Margaret.

  “Um, when you work in customer service, you get yelled at a lot,” Margaret giggled, trying to excuse herself.

  Dr. Griffin lifted up the tome. “Is there a whole section just dedicated to me?” he asked, peering inside.

  “Don’t read it!” Margaret yelled, slamming the book on his fingers.

  “A grudge diary,” Privet repeated aloud as he rubbed his temples. “By the gods, you women are petty.”

  “Are we now?” Athel asked. All three women dropped their heads down and began making a new entry in their respective diaries.

  “No, wait,” Privet protested. “You don’t have to...Aw, crap.”

  Ryin scooted his chair over next to Mina’s. “Mina, it’s your turn,” he encouraged. Say what you really feel.”

  “Fine,” Mina said, a slight tremble in her voice as she looked up at her husband. “Since we are all being so hurtfully honest, and since we are doing it front of everybody...I've always had trouble seeing you as a man.”

  “What?” Evere asked, scratching his solid chin in confusion.

  “You don’t have a tail.”

  “Of course I don’t have a tail, woman!” Evere grunted as he stood up, his vice-like hands clenched, his barrel-like chest heaving.

  “You're a bear of a man, no doubts there, but with Mesdans, the virility of a man is measured only by the size of his tail,” Mina explained. “The larger the tail, the better mate he is. In fact, in any pack it is the man with the largest tail who is designated as the Alpha, regardless of age.”

  “So,” Evere grunted. “Because I don’t have a tail I seem to you like a...like a...”

  “A eunuch, yes,” Mina assured him.

  Ryin burst out laughing.

  “By thunder, woman! That is unfair. You know I’m not Mesdan!”

  “Of course I know that!” Mina shot back, her tail sticking up straight. “But I just can’t help seeing things that way. It is the way I was raised.”

  “This is good, this is good,” Ryin coaxed. “Let’s have some more, get it all out.”

  “She keeps snuffing out the iron furnace in our room,” Evere complained. “I can’t sleep in a freezing bedroom.”

  “So, put on a coat, or cover up with a blanket,” Mina shot back. “It’s not like I can take this fur coat off, you know!”

  Privet sat down and grabbed a bowl of popcorn.

  “You don’t really care, do you Colenat?” Privet accused.

  “Of course I do,” Ryin replied, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “This is the most fun I've had in weeks.”

  “Mesdan couples are supposed to sleep curled up together,” Mina shouted. “But he keeps pushing me off of him during the night until I’m curled up at the foot of the bed like a blasted pet.”

  “That’s because I keep getting your fur caught in my throat. Suffocating is not fun for us, Tomani.”

  “You always come to me for advice every time there is a decision to be made,” Mina complained.

  “Of course I do,” Evere yelled back. “For my people, the matriarch of any caravan should be allowed to voice her opinion on important matters before a decision is made. It is a sign of respect, you thick-headed trollop.”

  “Yes, but don’t you see that to a Mesdan that is a sign of weakness? An Alpha takes charge, that is what makes him the Alpha!”

  “Why would I want to be like a Mesdan Alpha? They are the ones that took my eyes!”

  “Jabint’s teeth!” Mina swore. “No matter what, it’s always back to the blasted eyes with you,” she complained, throwing her arms up.

  “Of course it is,” Evere said, popping out one of the black orbs, revealing the empty eye socket left behind. “When I was born there was an eye in here. Having them taken out by red-hot pokers kind of leaves an impression on you. Filthy Mesdans!”

  “Effeminate Tomani!”

  At that point, Evere and Mina stopped using words all together and simply started screaming back and forth at each other. Mina’s screams released blades of sonic energy that tore through the banquet, slicing saucers and dishes in half and scattering food all over the room. Tim panicked and flapped his wings. A roast duck disintegrated, spraying meat and bone all over Margaret. A coc
onut flew directly at Privet’s head, but he batted it away with the back of his plate. A tray of pineapples exploded, dousing Dr. Griffin with juice and rind. Back and forth they yelled, until finally fatigue overtook them and they sat down, breathing heavily from exertion.

  The only other sound was that of Margaret’s pen, scratching away furiously in her notebook.

  “Fascinating,” Margaret mumbled to herself, duck juice dripping from her hair. “Professor Olem will love this.”

  Ryin picked up a piece of lettuce off his shoulder and tossed it aside. “Now, don’t you feel better?”

  “You know what?” Mina gasped between deep breaths. “I guess I actually do, a little.”

  “How can you feel better?” Evere wheezed. “We didn’t resolve anything.”

  “I know,” Mina panted. “But, I feel like at least you heard me.”

  Evere looked around. “How could I have not heard you?” he heaved. “Your voice shredded the galley to pieces.”

  Mina looked around at the destruction. Pudding and mashed potatoes were splattered everywhere. Bits of vegetables and fruit slowly slid down the walls towards the floor.

  “Kinda’ reminds me of that time Hanner blew up that cauldron of gravy,” Dr. Griffin observed.

  There was a muffled struggling noise coming from a dollop of porridge clinging to the ceiling. Slowly it dripped down, plopping into the center of the table. Bunni Bubbles poked her little head out, her doll-hair soaked through.

  “I don’t like this game,” she complained, sticking out her tiny tongue. “I wanna play bath time instead.”

  Mina began to giggle.

  Evere smiled, and then he began to laugh.

  Louder and louder, the captain and his wife laughed, the sound reverberating throughout the ship.

  Everyone else smiled and nodded to one another.

  Mina and Evere laughed until their sides hurt so much they bent over. Nothing more was said, and without instructions, everyone began gathering up the scattered chairs and broken dishes. When they sat down again, Evere and Mina sat down next to each other.

  “Well, it looks like your gift managed to pass though unscathed,” Alder observed, picking up the statuette.

  “Well thank the Great Mother for that,” Athel said boorishly, picking bits of mushroom out of her hair.

  Something piqued Alder’s interest and he began examining it very closely.

  “What is it, Aldi?” Athel asked, walking over to him.

  “There are no seams in this,” he observed.

  “What?”

  “This statuette Odger made, there is no glue or seams. It is one solid piece of material.”

  “Let me see that,” Athel said, snatching it out of his hands. Slowly, she rotated the figure before her.

  “You know, you never do your hair like that,” Privet observed, tapping on the statue’s braided hair. “You should try it sometime.”

  “I have offered to braid her hair on numerous occasions,” Alder shared, “but she has always declined.”

  “Why are you so obsessed with braiding my hair?” Athel groaned as she examined the statue.

  “I am not obsessed,” Alder defended. “I spent many years training to become proficient at it, and I consider it a romantic way for a couple to spend time together.”

  “He’s right!” Athel gasped.

  “I don’t really think it’s that romantic, lass.” Captain Evere observed.

  “No, not about that. About the seams on the figure thing.”

  “So the crazy short guy gave you a nice gift, so what?” Privet critiqued, flicking a carrot off his collar.

  Athel lashed out to slug him in the arm, but he caught her wrist without even looking.

  “No, don’t you remember what he said?” Athel said, pulling her arm free. “He said that the creation of this thingy requires all the different skills a Stonemaster learns.”

  “So what?” Dr. Griffin asked, his mouth full of peach slices.

  “So, what does this have to do with making airships fly, or sending invisible messages between islands, or any of the other things we see the Stonemasters doing every day?”

  Athel looked around for confirmation, but no one offered any.

  Margaret stopped writing in her notebook and looked up, her glasses falling to the tip of her nose. “I suppose it doesn’t really seem to have anything to do with it,” she observed.

  “That’s my point,” Athel insisted. “Think about it. If stone magic involves harmonizing and manipulating earth, then why would that make a ship fly? It doesn’t even make any sense.”

  Several people shot uncomfortable glances at one another.

  “So, just what are you diving at, lass?” Captain Evere asked at last.

  “The first time I went into the stone core, it felt completely bizarre to me, even scary. At first I thought it was just because I was inexperienced with foreign magic, but now I realize that I was wrong. Each island has its own specialty, but it all feels the same to me when I’m around it. I’m not quite sure how to describe it...it’s like it is part of the same whole.”

  “Yes, I have often felt that, too,” Mina confirmed. Even sonic and ice magic seem to...I dunno, fit together somehow.”

  Athel held up the statuette. “When I touch this, the magic surrounding it doesn’t feel bizarre to me at all. This feels natural, this feels right. The stone core however, feels completely different.”

  “In what way?” Margaret asked, taking notes.

  “I can’t be certain, but to me it feels like...it feels like the magic that was carved into Spirea.”

  There was a moment where no one breathed.

  “Void magic?” Dr. Griffin whispered, as if the mere utterance of the word was a crime.

  Everyone looked around. They could hear the steady hum of the ship’s stone core. Normally, it was so ubiquitous they didn’t even notice it, but now it seemed darker, even ominous, like the beating of an evil heart.

  Chapter Six

  Balen did his best to keep his body still as he stood in his formal wear before The Eternal Gate, an archway of living wood and vine that led down into the heart of the Sacred Tree of Milia. The morning sun was getting high in the sky, and still there had been no word from his bride-to-be. He had long since stopped wondering what mysteries and secrets lay within the realm beyond the gate. Such things were the province of women, and were not meant for men to know. Still, the forbidden always carried with it a certain degree of allure, at least for the first few hours. Balen had strained his ears attempting catch any noise or whisper coming from within, but discovered only silence. Now, it had been nearly two days and he no longer cared what took place within. His strong body was accustomed to long periods of deprivation from his house-husband training, but even he was beginning to feel the effects of deep fatigue.

  Dahoon slowly approached, dressed also in his finest formal-wear. His eyes were sunken and his shoulders drooped. “I regret to inform you that the last of the wedding guests have excused themselves. We have less than six hours left before the Naval deadline, and they must prepare their households. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Balen boasted weakly. “No one will ever forget who I am now. The only Forsythian husband to ever be stood up at the altar. That makes me something of a celebrity, don’t you know?”

  Balen’s forced smile faded. They both glanced over at the Queen’s staff, leaning against the gate where she had left it.

  “It has been a long time,” Dahoon suggested uneasily. “Perhaps we should...”

  Balen silenced him with a raised hand. “I am worried as well, believe me. But we both know that is not our place.”

  “Of course,” Dahoon apologized.

  “Besides,” Balen added with a wink, “forbidden doors are the worst kind of luck there is.”

  * * *

  Deep in the heart of the Sacred Tree, Queen Hazel knelt in prayer. Perspiration beaded at her forehead, her knuckles white as she grasped the livi
ng wood before her. Her physical body cried out in hunger, thirst, and fatigue, but that was nothing compared to the sounds of her heart crying within her. As she prayed, the level of light around her slowly grew brighter. Although Hazel knew the chamber she was in was actually quite small, she could no longer see the walls, or any feature beyond her direct touch. She seemed to be in a realm of mist and light that extended on forever in all directions.

  Exhausted, but steadfast, Queen Forsythia stood up and opened her eyes—relieved that her prayers were finally about to be answered. Floating in the air before her was the Goddess Milia, her body glowing with divine light. Her raiment, robes of purest white, gently flowed around her as if suspended in water. Her long, shimmering hair flowed down behind her like a waterfall. Her presence was one of perfect mildness. She exuded a profound tenderness, as natural to be around as a cherry blossom landing gently on your cheek.

  “Your daughters have followed your every command, Great Mother, but when I look out at the vast numbers gathered against us, I can see no path that will lead to victory.”

  Milia extended out her hand, her expression sad. “I am sorry, my child. I have made a great error. I miscalculated.”

  The Queen took a step back, a look of confusion on her face. “Can a god make a mistake?”

  Milia cast her eyes downwards. “I was so sure the others would come to our aid. I have spoken with each of the other gods. Vestum...Faunatimos...even Hestial. “None of them will command their people to end this war.”

  Queen Hazel could only look up, her eyes swimming. “How can that be?”

  “They have betrayed us again...” Milia answered distantly.

  “But their lands are in danger as well,” Hazel cried, thrusting her hands out. “How can they care nothing for the people they created? For their own children?”

  Milia looked at her with eyes as deep as the ocean. “There is something strange at work here, my daughter. Some shadow gathers at the horizon and encircles our island. When I spoke to the other gods, I could sense they were hiding something from me. There is something they are deeply afraid of.”