Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  Everyone laughed.

  Margaret hid her face in shame. “Now I'll never be able to be a proper bride.”

  Outside the cave, there were three enormous thumps that shook the ground. The cave around them opened up like the lid of a chest, revealing misty skies above them. A ruby-scaled dragon poked its head in, looking them over as it craned its long neck.

  Margaret screamed as it reached down and plucked her and Setsuna up with one clawed hand, Captain Evere and Privet in another. Effortlessly, it flipped them upright and caught them again. The Dragon flapped his massive wings. He breathed in deeply, gathering prismatic fire in his open mouth.

  “Oh, this has bad day written all over it,” Setsuna winced.

  The dragonfire washed over them, but it did not consume. Instead, they found themselves wrapped in bliss. As the flames touched their wounds, the flesh mended itself, and new skin grew into place, leaving no evidence that there had ever been an injury.

  “Okay, I definitely didn’t see that one coming,” Setsuna admitted as she took off her sling and cast, her arm completely mended. The dragon set them back down as Athel and the others dropped down off the other dragon’s backs.

  “How did you do that?” Captain Ever said, feeling his restored neck.

  Kyrkk'ia helped Athel down off her back. “Eilio'ama, what you call Spirit Magic, is the power of creation. Creation through life,” the dragon explained in her wise, tender tones. “What you call void magic is its brother, creation through death. These two energies existed long before the creation of this world.”

  “How can you create through death?” Privet wondered aloud as he examined his healed leg.

  Vah’mnemn shoved his snout right in Privet’s face. “You mortals always create through death. It is your nature. You kill trees to build your ships, you kill animals to feed your bellies, you kill to make your clothes, you kill to make room for more of your own kind. Everything you create comes at the expense of another.”

  “Sorry I asked,” Privet whispered.

  Rather than be offended, Athel thought hard on his words. “I guess when you put it that way, it must be very distasteful.”

  Igne'aku nodded. “That is why we keep to ourselves. My siblings and I created this world long ago to be a place of rest, of meditation, of sharing.”

  “And then we came along.”

  “Yes, but I try to remind myself that it is not your fault. There are many kinds of spirits in the spirit world, and some became intrigued with this world we dragons had created. They stole from us the light of creation and shattered it amongst themselves. They used those fragments to make for each of them an island and a people. They began to call themselves gods.” He snorted, a little flick of white fire coming out of his nostrils. “The impertinence. They even renamed it Aetria, as if they had the right.”

  “So what did you call it?”

  Igne'aku opened his mouth a little and squinted his eyes. It took Athel a moment to realize that he was smiling. “We called this world Eia'eino, the gathering of hearts.”

  While Alder loaded up their things, Athel informed the others about what had happened in their absence.

  * * *

  Back on the Dreadnaught, Odger came waddling up to the deck. If anyone else had been there to see him, they would have stared in disbelief. His face was washed, his hair and beard were clean and braided. He smelled of sweet incense. Even his clothes had been washed and pressed. He looked like an entirely different person.

  “Dr. Griffin! Dr. Griffin!” he called out as he waddled around the deck happily waving a glowing vial around in his clean hand. “I’m cured! I’m cured!” he yelled. “This new batch of medicine you gave me has stopped the hallucinations!”

  Odger stopped and breathed in deeply. “The world smells right again, the world sounds right again. For the first time in years, I can think clearly. The voices are gone!”

  Odger jumped up and down and spun around in a happy little dance. With unbridled joy, he kicked his short legs and waved his stubby arms.

  Then three dragons landed in front of him on the deck.

  Odger screamed louder than he ever had in his life. He stared up at the enormous creatures with their armored scales, magical fire trailing out through their eyes and nostrils.

  “This stuff makes it worse!” he hollered, tossing the vial overboard, and scrambling back downstairs as fast as his stubby little legs would carry him.

  Athel and the others jumped down off the dragon’s backs.

  “...I’m telling you, I didn’t eat your ruttin’ bird, Cap’n,” Hanner complained as he draped Strenner over his back and burped him.

  “So where is he, then?” Evere yelled, following Hanner belowdeck. “We meet up with you again and the very same day Tim goes missing. Coincidence?”

  “Yes, it is a coincidence, because that is what the word coincidence means. Two blasted things that happen after each other but are un-ruttin’-related!”

  “Thank you so much for bringing us back to our ship,” Athel said to the dragons, giving a formal curtsy.

  Igne'aku took her hand with the tip of his fingers and turned it over. He breathed a gentle flame of multi-colored fire into her open palm. It was warm and gentle, like a soothing bath. When the flame ebbed, a living red rose lay in her hand, wet drops of dew on its delicate petals.

  “What is that?” asked Alder.

  Athel could hardly believe it. “It’s a red cliff rose,” she stammered.

  Alder came close to admire it. “I've never seen a red one before.”

  Athel laughed in disbelief. “No one has. They were destroyed during the unification wars. Even our greatest horticulturists have been unable to breed a true red since then.”

  “Although Lady Cadagi Lotebush did manage a faint pink once,” Alder remarked.

  Igne'aku smiled again. “This was lost; now it is restored. Wear it as you fight to restore to this world what it has lost.”

  Athel took it close and held it gently against her chest. “Thank you.”

  “I name you Dragonfriend, and promise you safe passage through our lands.”

  Igne'aku turned around and flew away, the bow of the ship dipping down as he leapt into the air and flapped his wings.

  “Okay, everyone, I want the sails set while I chart us a course to Wysteria,” Mina shouted. Everyone got to work.

  Garh’tik dipped his head in salute and then flew away, rocking the ship again. Vah’mnemn moved to leave as well, but Alder placed his hand on his foot to stop him.

  “Please forgive my intrusion, but I have a question I must ask you,” Alder said, trying to compose himself as best he could.

  “And if you do no like the answer?” Vah’mnemn warned.

  “I suppose then I will still be grateful to know it,” Alder committed himself.

  “Speak quickly, then.”

  “It is about the magic you use, I wanted to...”

  “Use?” Vah’mnemn repeated, cutting him off. “We do not use magic. Mortals use magic, the same way a monkey uses a stick, or an otter uses a rock. It is something that can be given and taken away. Our power is inseparable from us. We are magic.”

  “Of course, my apologies,” Alder added diplomatically. “But, the men of Wysteria, my kin, they cannot use magic at all. Why is that?”

  The dragon snorted, sending a short burst of fire from his nostrils. “Because the link to your god has been severed.”

  “Severed? I don’t understand. Is that why we don’t have souls?”

  “Soul?” Vah’mnemn repeated. He rolled the word around in his mouth again and again, as if coming to grips with it. Finally he shook his head in disgust. “Only a mortal would attempt to combine together so many different concepts into one simple word. Soul,” he spat. “How disrespectful a term. Never use it again in my presence.”

  With a dip of his armored sapphire head, the dragon took off into the air and flew away, leaving Alder with more questions than he started with.

>   “I believe I may have offended him,” Alder mentioned as Athel came up alongside him.

  “Actually, I don’t think you did,” Athel clarified. “Given his distaste for us, that was about as civil as could be hoped for.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “If you had actually offended him, he would have eaten you.”

  Within an hour, they were on their way. Margaret gave them a generous updraft and soon they found themselves up high in a powerful jetstream, heading towards Wysteria. The Dreadnaught’s unusual design, with three sets of sails held out before her like a horseshoe, allowed her to take full advantage of dead astern winds. With a Stormcaller on board to create a tailwind for her, she was one of the fastest ships in the skies.

  As the sun sank low over the seas like a melting pat of butter, Athel and Alder sat with Margaret on the command podium, helping her get everything they had learned about dragons written down before they forgot anything.

  Nearby, Privet and Setsuna sat on the main deck, cleaning the ship’s cannon.

  Margaret squealed with delight as she rocked her hands back and forth, coaxing the winds to blow a little faster. “Oh, this is so exciting,” she gushed. “When Professor Ancorage sees this, I'll probably get a full semester’s worth of credits towards graduation.” The winds strengthened and the ship surged forward a little faster. “Oh, don’t forget the part where the red one used his fire to heal them.”

  “Yes, Ma'am,” Adler said as he scribbled away in her book.

  “You know, Margaret,” Athel pointed out as she looked over Alder’s shoulder, “you really should consider aiming a little higher.”

  Margaret wrinkled her nose and looked up, as if expecting to see something.

  “No, what I mean is, if you give all these notes to your professor, he’s going to publish them and get all the credit. You've got way more actual experience then he does. Why not just publish it all yourself?”

  “Oh, I could never do that,” Margaret blushed. The University Board decides what may be published and what may not be published.”

  “So, publish it yourself. Use some of your share of the gemstones.”

  Margaret blinked. “But, even if I did, it wouldn’t count as a real book.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because only the University Board can decide what counts as a real book.”

  “Says who?”

  “The University Board.”

  “Well, who are they to decide? Do they write books?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Are they experts on Dragons or Wysterian culture or something?”

  “Oh no, definitely not. They just make money off things other people have written.” Margaret thought for a second. “In fact, most of the books they pick aren’t really that good.”

  Athel leaned in close. “Why not let the readers decide what they want to read? Eh? Why not decide for yourself?”

  Margaret thought long and hard. Suddenly, her face lit up. “I think I see what you are saying.”

  “Good.” Athel grinned.

  “You're saying that if I work my way onto the board, then one day I can decide which books count and which ones do not.”

  Athel groaned and covered her face with her hands.

  “You're thinking like a poor person,” Privet observed as he slid the cleaned cannon into place and secured it. “With the amount of money you have in your cabin, you could print a million copies and give them away to everyone. If your books are everywhere, who would have the right to say they weren’t real?”

  Privet hopped up onto the command deck and sat down. “Or, just bribe the University Board members to acknowledge your book. That’s probably cheaper, anyway.”

  A tear in the air appeared and Setsuna stepped through. She quietly sat down at Privet’s feet and began using a wet cloth to wipe the dust and dirt off of his boots for him.

  Margaret chewed on her thumbnail. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting this to be so complicated. I’m not sure what to do.”

  “What do you think, Setsuna?” Alder asked without looking up.

  Setsuna looked up and smiled sweetly, then went to work applying a fresh layer of polish to Privet’s boots.

  “The point is,” Privet continued, “that you are dealing with a system designed to keep people out, and this board has set themselves up as the gatekeepers. But you don’t have to play their game by their rules. With your resources, you can ignore it, subvert it, or bribe your way past it. Heck, with the money you have you could just buy the board and then dismantle the whole thing.”

  Athel was having trouble hiding her irritation as she watched Setsuna lovingly buff up Privet’s boots to a mirror shine. Her mind knew that Privet did not belong to her, but her heart reacted as if something of hers was being stolen.

  Margaret, on the other hand, looked completely overwhelmed, and the winds were becoming more choppy as a result. “All I wanted was to graduate,” she pouted, “now I don’t know what to do.”

  It was then that Pops the janitor worked his way past the podium, calmly mopping the deck in his home-made Navy uniform. “Some people have big dreams,” he mused, “and some people have small dreams.”

  Pops reached out and placed an aged hand on Margaret’s shoulder. “If your dreams are small, keep them that way. What is important is that they are yours.”

  Margaret nodded. “Thanks, Pops.”

  Mina walked up wearing a fresh uniform with a towel around her head. “After an hour of scrubbing I still can’t get all the mud out,” she complained.

  Setsuna vanished then reappeared behind Privet, and began rubbing his wide shoulders with her hands. Privet leaned back, accepting the back rub with gusto.

  “What is she doing?” Captain Evere asked as he joined them.

  As if to emphasize the point, Setsuna rubbed lower on his back, looking straight at Athel with teasing green eyes as her lips hovered an inch from Privet’s neck.

  “Don’t you get it?” Athel burst out. “You told her back there that you like girls that don’t speak much, so she’s pretending to be a mute.”

  “Not just a mute,” Privet clarified, leaning forward to give Setsuna better access to his back. “A mute who does whatever I ask of her.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” Athel warned, folding her arms.

  “Are you kidding? For the first time in my life, a woman does what I ask her to. I’m totally taking advantage of this. Maybe being married might not be such a bad idea after all.”

  Setsuna squealed with delight and wrapped her arms around Privet’s neck. “Do you mean it?” she gushed. “Does this mean you accept me as your wife?”

  Athel looked like she was about to pop as she fought to contain her anger.

  Setsuna moved to pull the rings off her necklace, but Privet motioned for her to stop. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he cautioned. “These things take time.”

  “So, what can I do to speed things along?” Setsuna asked, a little smirk crossing her lips.

  Privet shrugged. “Some ice cream couldn’t hurt your odds.”

  Setsuna squeed happily and disappeared through a gate.

  “You should not take advantage of her,” Alder scolded.

  “Why not?” Privet asked, “Athel treats you the same way.”

  “That’s different,” Alder insisted.

  “How?” Privet pushed.

  Alder moved to answer him, but stopped. He was at a loss for words.

  “Actually, she treated him worse,” Captain Evere recalled. “Made the boy dance in a skirt.”

  “Yes, I did that and worse,” Athel admitted. “But I was wrong, and I regret what I did. I called him a dog and a pig and even worse, but he’s not, he’s a good strong man.”

  Athel looked at Alder, her eyes swimming. The truth is I don’t deserve him.” Then she turned to Privet. “And you will regret it too, if you don’t knock it off.”

  “I don’t understand what the big deal is,”
Privet defended. “I’m just having a little fun.” He looked around for someone to agree with him, but no one did. “Look, she is dangerous. I know that, we all do. I figure it’s only a matter of time before she tries to stab me in the back. Until then, I'll just keep my guard up and enjoy the ride.”

  “But it is flattering, isn’t it?” Mina asked. “Having someone fawn over you.”

  Privet shrugged. “I guess.”

  Mina’s lavender eyes twinkled. “How do you think Alder defrosted Athel’s icy heart? You let her pamper you long enough, and it will get to you, whether you want it to or not.”

  Athel glanced over at Mina, trying to decide if she was kidding or not. “I don’t have an icy heart!” she protested.

  “Not anymore,” Mina clarified.

  A fresh gate opened up and Setsuna stepped though, happily carrying a bowl filled with three different kinds of ice cream, and topped with just about every topping possible. “I brought you ice cream, sweetie,” she boasted.

  “Oh, not the Marionberry,” Alder said, clearly distressed. “I was saving that for one of Lady Athel’s midnight cravings.”

  “You didn’t have to go this far,” Privet cautioned as he took the bowl from her. One of the scoops of ice cream stirred, and then Bunni Bubbles poked her head out, her hair covered with syrup and sprinkles. “I’m a sundae!” she sang happily.

  “Hey, get out of there,” Setsuna said as she plucked Bunni out of the bowl and tossed her aside. “You are going to make people sick getting in their food like that.”

  “Actually, golems are completely sanitary,” Alder reminded everyone as he gently picked up Bunni from the deck and took her downstairs to get cleaned up.

  “Athel used to treat Bunni like that too,” Ryin recalled.

  “Okay, I think we've played the ‘Let’s Point out Athel’s Flaws Game’ long enough,” Athel complained. “Let’s go and do something else.” The emotional high from earlier was wearing off, and she was beginning to feel uneasy again. Even though they were in the middle of the sky, with the wind whipping about, she felt as if walls were closing in tight around her.

  Margaret picked up her notebook. “Well, if you have the time, you still haven’t covered a few things about Wysteria for me.”