Isle of Wysteria: Throne of Chains

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  “For not averting your eyes. Since I lost my legs, everyone looks away, like I’m not really here. I feel like a ghost sometimes.”

  Talliun’s eyes became sad. “You’re welcome.”

  Privet looked at the scars peeking out from where her prosthetic arm met her shoulder. He remembered hearing the stories about how she was treated after she had lost her sister-tree, unable to ever perform magic again. “I guess you know what that feels like,” he whispered.

  She managed a weak smile and patted him on the shoulder. “We all lost things on Wysteria.”

  Privet reached up and grabbed her arm with a strength that surprised her. She had to remind herself that while he had lost the use of his legs, his rippling arms were as potent as ever.

  “We didn’t lose them,” he said steadily, looking over to where Alder lay sleeping in his bed. “They were taken from us.”

  Her eyes became steady and sullen, and they shared a moment only wounded soldiers can have, a shared bond stronger than steel.

  “Yes,” she said grimly. “Yes, they were.”

  With some help from Talliun when one of his wheels got caught on a root, Privet managed to scoot his way over to the dark tent where Athel was being kept. It nearly broke his heart what he saw when the flap was pulled back.

  Athel lay on the bare ground, chained like an animal in the dark. She was filthy from head to toe, so much mud caked into her hair it seemed brown. She didn’t seem like the woman he had once known; she was more like the corpse of the person she had once been.

  The only sound that came from within was her shallow breathing.

  “Does she really have to be chained like that?” he asked, trying to control his emotions.

  “She kept trying to escape during the night,” Talliun said regretfully. “It was the only way we could stop her from turning herself in to the authorities.”

  Talliun wheeled Privet inside and set a plate of food in his lap.

  “No spoon?” he asked.

  Talliun shook her head. “Yesterday she tried to sharpen the spoon against the shackles and hurt herself.”

  Privet noticed the fresh bandages on Athel’s arms.

  Talliun unsnapped the flap on her way out.

  “Good luck.”

  Now alone with his fiancé, Privet didn’t know what to do. He had never seen eyes as empty as hers were. They had become grey, a lost hopeless grey, like a clouded night sky without a star. He scooted himself around to face her, she was so hollow; it hurt just to look at her. No recognition or acknowledgment passed over her. Her lifeless eyes looked right through him, as if he wasn’t even there.

  Privet fumbled with the plate in his hands. “I…ah…brought you some dinner.”

  She didn’t respond.

  He gathered together some of the rice. “It’s not Alder’s cooking or anything, but it’s not too bad. The Tomani really like to spice their food; it’s kind of surprising how hot it is.”

  She lay still.

  Privet pinched some rice and leaned over, placing it against her lips. “You need to eat, Athel.”

  The rice fell across her lips to the ground, a few grains sticking to her dry, cracked skin.

  Privet clenched his fists. “I…ah…I hate seeing you suffer like this, Athel. I want to fix it. I want to make it right. Just…just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’d slay a dragon if you asked me to.”

  He looked down at his legs. “At least I would have.”

  She said nothing.

  Privet hated being useless. He took the water cup and held it up to her lips. “Please, just take a little.”

  His hand trembling, he poured the water, but it just trickled down her cheek into the mud.

  Privet could feel his eyes tearing up. He could feel years of training kicking in. Lashes on his back, burns on his arms, and a lifetime of conditioning instructing him to hide what he felt.

  His frustration turned to anger, and he slammed the cup back onto the plate.

  “Blast it, Athel! Talk to me! Don’t treat me like I’m not here!”

  She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Privet.”

  Her voice was so shallow, like air leaking from a bag. “I know you need me, but I can’t be there for you…I can’t be there for anybody.”

  Privet set down the plate and wheeled himself closer. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Her vacant grey eyes opened. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”

  “Try me.”

  For the first time, there was a stirring in her eyes. A flicker of regret and grief.

  “Why did I have to be born?” she asked.

  Privet didn’t know if she was waiting for a response. He didn’t know what to say. He wished that Alder was here. He was always better at this kind of thing. “I don’t know…because Wysteria needed a Queen?”

  “I did everything I could, and the forest will still die. If I had never existed, the forest also would have died. So, what was the point? What purpose did my life serve? Why the struggle and the heartache? Why the sacrifice and the pain, if the result was to be the same either way? It’s like some cosmic joke. Dangle a carrot before our eyes with no intention of ever letting us get it. Make us think we can make a difference, when in reality we can’t. Blair was right, the gods are cruel, I just never realized how bitterly cruel they were.”

  Privet felt like he was making things worse. He tried to think of some counter-argument, some retort, but nothing came to mind. Shrugging his shoulders, he sat back in resignation.

  “You’re right,” he admitted.

  Her eyes weakly turned to him, faintly surprised at his response.

  “I feel the same way,” he admitted, scratching at the scars on his arms. “When I left the navy and came back to Wysteria to marry Aden, she betrayed me and I was put back into slavery.”

  His eyes became distant, recalling painful memories he had tried to smother. “I think that’s when it hurt the most. When I was a kid, I didn’t know any better, working twenty hours a day felt normal, but after I had tasted freedom…oh, those were bitter times for me. I’d lay there at night planning out all the ways I’d kill my matron and then myself. I’d categorize each plan, sorting them and rating them, debating endlessly about exactly which one I would use. I watched the other men die from sickness, accidents, or see the stillness take them. It felt like the only decision I had left was when and where I would die, and I was determined to do it on my terms, not theirs.”

  Privet stopped scratching and placed his hands on his knees.

  “But, then something happened,” he whispered.

  Athel looked at him, waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t.

  “What?” she finally asked hoarsely.

  Privet looked up and decided to just admit it. “I fell in love with you.”

  She looked at his legs strapped limply into the chair, and her eyes became moist. “And look what that got you.”

  She placed her hands over the deep stitches running across her heart, and rolled over onto her side.

  Privet bit his lip. He felt like he was making things even worse. “No, that’s not why I said that. You…you helped me though those times, and now I want to help you.”

  “You don’t need to help me,” she whispered. “It won’t change anything.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Athel reached out her filthy hand, her fingers scabbed over from where the nails had been shorn off. “Can’t you feel it?”

  “Feel what?”

  She ran her palm along the ground. “The sea,” she said dreamily.

  “The…sea?”

  “It’s coming for us, she whispered mournfully. “All of us. I can feel it everywhere. Even beneath us. At this very moment, it is eating away at the roots
of this island, dissolving it away.”

  “That’s exactly why you need to eat.”

  She sniffed, a tear rolling down her cracked cheek. “You know, I used to fear the sea. All little girls are taught to fear it, from the day we are ripe. I remember my aunt Briar talking to us about it when I was little…she said all the sadness, all the hate, all the evils of the world rolled down the hills and became the sea.”

  She trailed off and gripped a fistful of mud. “I don’t fear it anymore.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head, a fresh tear creating a streak down her cheek. “No. It’s like a great soap, washing away the sins of this world, cleansing it, creating a place without memory, without pain, a beautiful void, free of guilt, free of regret. I can see why the gods have decided to just let it happen. I now see the mercy in it. Just close your eyes, let it take you, and the pain finally stops. The voices stop screaming, your heart stops aching.”

  She closed her eyes. “It’s…bliss.”

  Privet felt his emotions welling up, his eyes became moist, and his breathing became erratic. He could feel his lungs fading.

  “What do you want me to do, Athel? Huh? Do you want me to cry? Do you want me to beg?”

  Her face pinched in pain. “No. I’ve hurt you too much already.”

  Privet threw himself out of his chair, clumsily flopping to the ground. It startled her enough that she sat up.

  Pitifully, painfully, he dragged himself, elbow over elbow, his legs dragging limply behind him, huffing and wheezing as he went.

  She covered her mouth, unable to bear the sight of it.

  When he pulled himself alongside her, his feelings broke through his conditioning, and he wrapped his arms around her.

  “Please…” he coughed. “Please Athel, please don’t die. I can’t do this without you.”

  He buried his face in her shoulder and allowed himself to cry.

  “I lost my legs,” he wept. “I lost my legs and I can’t stand it!”

  Athel’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I need you,” he sobbed. “I need you to stay with me.”

  Her dry lips trembled. “I…I don’t think I can.”

  He pulled her even closer, and she began to weep as well. She wrapped her arms around him and hid her face in his chest. She trembled to see someone so strong cry so completely in her arms. She felt ashamed, so ashamed that she could not help him, that she could not help anybody, but in her heart she knew that Queen Sotol had broken her. No matter how horrible she felt, it would never be enough to regain what she had lost.

  “I hate being crippled,” Privet admitted softly.

  Athel placed her hands on the back of his head. “I know you do. I’m so sorry.”

  They lay there for what felt like hours, quietly crying as they held one another. In the distance, Athel imagined she could feel the seas drawing near. Every hour growing closer to the time when she wouldn’t hurt anymore. It felt so inviting.

  Privet let go first, sniffing and wiping his nose, embarrassed at having displayed such vulnerability.

  Athel sadly touched his cheek, and let him know that it was all right, and that she thought no less of him for it. He thanked her for that.

  Carefully, Privet picked up the tin cup and held it out to her.

  Athel’s whole body clenched with pain. She shook her head.

  “Please,” he begged. “For me.”

  Wracked with pain, tormented with guilt, she closed her eyes tight, fresh tears breaking free. He placed the cup to her parched lips, and she reluctantly sipped the water.

  * * *

  The Tomani women silently scooped up their things, and began filtering out of the mother’s tent. That was the worst part. When they were disgusted, they didn’t say anything, they just picked up and left, leaving Captain Evere and Mina alone to feel embarrassed. In many ways, they’d have preferred a good tongue lashing to being shunned, but that wasn’t the Tomani way.

  Mina bounced baby Ash in her arms, patting his back as he screamed, walking around and humming frantically, but nothing would soothe him. It was fourth mid-bells, and neither of them had had a wink of sleep. Ash rubbed his eyes, exhausted from his own screeching, but not so tired that he could fall asleep without what he was asking for.

  “Blast it, woman, just give him what he wants,” Evere complained, his patience giving out as he watered Trillium, the sapling shimmering sleepily. Nallorn trees could completely ignore noise when they wanted to, and right now Evere would have given anything for that ability.

  Mina’s eyes were bloodshot, her long white tail whipping about angrily as she paced. “I can’t give him what he wants,” she said through gritted fangs.

  Evere slammed the watering can down, his own eyes as red as hers. “We never had this problem before. What’s different now?”

  Mina pursed her lips and began pacing faster. She was nearly jogging at this point, Ash’s screaming rising and falling in pitch as he bounced against her.

  The baby reached out to Mina, clearly asking for something.

  Her lavender eyes twinged. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I can’t do that.”

  Ash threw his tiny head back and screamed in frustration again, even louder than before.

  “Blast it, woman, just give him what he wants,” Evere shouted, stomping over.

  Mina clenched her fists. “I can’t okay!”

  “What do you mean you can’t? Does he want food?”

  “No.”

  “Water?”

  “NO.”

  “That sap stuff?”

  “NO!!!”

  “Then what does he want?”

  Mina planted her feet, her eyes filling with tears. “He wants me to use magic to make a sound sphere for him to play with, OKAY?!”

  Evere instantly backed down. “Woman, I’m…I’m so sorry.”

  Mina wiped her furry cheek and switched Ash to her other shoulder.

  Ashamed, Evere reached out. “Can I help you with that?”

  Mina slapped his hand away. “Don’t treat me like an invalid!”

  Captain Evere nodded and stepped away, holding his hand where her claws had cut him.

  Mina could see that she had hurt him, and her anger collapsed in on itself.

  “I…I’m sorry I…”

  Evere waved his hand and sat down in the hammock. “It’s all right…you’ve…you’ve been through a lot.”

  Mina bit her lip, watching her husband remorsefully. Ash quieted down, his sleepiness finally getting the better of him, and hung his head disgruntledly over her arm.

  Mina took her hand and gently ran it over his little head. “It was his favorite thing,” she said softly. “Now I can’t do it for him anymore.”

  Mina looked like she might shatter, standing there. Evere could not help but come to her. Without asking, he stood up and walked over to her, encircling her in his strong arms. She was grateful that he did.

  “I’m sorry,” he said simply.

  “Me too,” she whispered back.

  “I know how hard it is to lose a piece of yourself.”

  Mina glanced up mournfully at his prosthetic eyes. Like black marbles they sat, moving about like living things, but obviously artificial. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t recall the color they had been when she had known him as a boy.

  “Magic wasn’t just something I learned and did,” she admitted. “It was a part of who I was. A part of what made me…me. The gods tore it out of me…I can’t describe how horrible it felt. It was…a violation of every part of me, body and soul. I keep flinching at every sound, jumping at every shadow. I’m like a meek, trembling little pterra mouse now. I feel unsafe all the time, like it’s about to happen again. Like something bad is just a few seconds away, but I don’t know what it is. Every cell in my body rememb
ers what it felt like, and it won’t let me forget.”

  Mina closed her eyes and tried to let herself relax. Tried to let the alarms in her mind die down for a few minutes so she could sleep. It would be dawn soon, and although she desperately needed the rest, she just couldn’t make herself feel safe, even in his arms.

  “This is going to take some adjustment,” she said.

  He nodded. “For us both.”

  * * *

  Privet delicately took another spoonful of gruel and placed it into Athel’s mouth. Her grey eyes looked at him defiantly, irritated at being treated like a child, but she took the morsel and slurped it down joylessly.

  “Thank you, Athel,” he said gratefully. The morning light was seeping in through the tent seams as he set down the empty saucer.

  The flap was opened and Talliun looked in, relieved to see that she had taken in some food. “You have a visitor, my Queen.”

  Whether Talliun meant it as a sign of respect or in jest, either way, Athel clearly didn’t appreciate it. She wasn’t a queen anymore. The matrons of Wysteria had not only deposed her, they had attempted to assassinate her.

  Mina walked in with some of the Tomani women, carrying Ash, dressed in a bright sparkling hdjayi wrap the women had donated. He looked beyond adorable, and even Athel brightened up a little to see him.

  “Hey sweetie, look who’s here,” Mina cooed, pointing to Athel.

  Athel was reluctant as Mina walked towards her. She felt as filthy as she looked, but Mina asked no leave, she simply placed the baby in his mother’s arms.

  For a moment Athel and Ash stared at each other. He surprised to see her so muddy, she struggling with conflicting feelings within. She reached up and ran her scabbed fingers over his perfect little cheek. His skin was so exquisitely soft.

  “Hi little bud, how are you doing?”

  Ash reached out and touched the chains attached to her wrists, causing them to jingle. He looked up, wondering what they were, and his mother looked away in shame.

  “Mami,” he cooed.

  Everyone’s eyes went wide with joy.

  “Did you hear that? Mina gushed. “He said his first word!”

  “Mami,” he repeated, clearly pleased with himself.