Isle of Wysteria: Throne of Chains

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  She turned to Andolf, her heart as frail as glass. “Is it true? If Veritus is freed, will Alder’s life really be spared?”

  Andolf nodded sincerely. “Yes. Like your son, he will have the ability to replenish his own life force. He would live as long as the women of your island do, perhaps even longer.”

  “Perhaps?”

  “Yes, I believe there is a deeper level to your magic, one that has not been fully enjoyed since ancient times. The lines were so faint, my spirits could barely trace them, but they were there.”

  This surprised her.

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “The women wield the power of spring and summer. The men wield the power of fall and winter, but rather than being used separately, I believe they can we wielded together, fused into one whole, the entire cycle of life, wielded as a single entity.”

  “Like a synthesis,” she realized.

  “Yes. A couple who have earned and cultivated the complete love and trust of one another, could wield their powers as one, experiencing a continual rejuvenation, an existence that transcends the seasons, transcending mortality itself in a way, like the forest itself does. Such a couple would live to be the age of trees.”

  She sat there silently, trying to take it all in.

  That must be what we found in the inner sanctum, she realized. That’s what it’s for. What it’s trying to teach us.

  “Does this surprise you?”

  She breathed in carefully. “No. In fact, it seems kind of beautiful to me, in a way. The cycle of the seasons spins eternally, and it pivots upon love. I find that comforting. It feels right, like that is the way it was always meant to be.”

  The old man nodded. “It is the way it was meant to be. It’s like poetry, as is all magic, but yours is particularly lovely. Out of all the gods, only Milia and Veritus created a realm together, as husband and wife. Your magic is, therefore, a reflection of the love they had for one another.”

  Athel’s grey eyes became troubled. “So, what went wrong? How did Wysteria become such a terrible and hateful place?”

  “According to Mandi, Veritus was betrayed by the other gods. Crippled and imprisoned. He was cut off from his people, the connection to his sons severed. Without her husband, Milia could not replenish her own essence, and has been slowly fading away in agony ever since.”

  “If Veritus is freed, it won’t just save Alder, it should save Milia as well,” Deutzia glimmered hopefully.

  “Only if he makes it that long.” Athel’s lip trembled as she looked upon Alder’s faint breathing. “I don’t understand, I stopped.”

  “What?”

  “I haven’t used my magic once since I found out what it does to him, yet Alder is still getting worse. I can barely feel his heartbeat at all. Why isn’t he getting better?”

  “Even when you don’t invoke spells, you still use magic passively, which draws from him. Your soul instinctively listens for the voice of the grass, the trees, it subconsciously senses the seeds gliding on the wind, and the roots slumbering beneath the ground. You are always using magic, even if only a little.”

  She balled her firsts. “No…NO, it’s not fair. I stopped. I stopped using it. He should be getting better!”

  “You aren’t draining very much from him, but when a candle light is low, even the softest breath can make it flicker.”

  “So, how can I stop it?”

  “It’s not just something you can stop. You can’t train your ears not to hear.”

  “Yes you can. I’ve done it my whole life. When I was a child I’d hear the boys of my household whimpering with hunger during the night, as part of their training. And do you know what I did? I complained that they were keeping me up.

  “As a teenager I’d go visit other families and I’d pretend not to see the bruises on the men. I’d turn my eyes away from their spilt lips, their red eyes, their scarred skin. I stuffed myself with crumpets and then complained with how unseemly it was that the men would lick up the crumbs.”

  She felt a stabbing pain in her chest. “I’ve done nothing but close my eyes and shut my ears to the suffering of men.”

  She reached over and grabbed Andolf by the collar, startling him.

  “All I want to do is stop hurting him,” she cried. “Can’t I stop hurting him, even for a day? What’s wrong with me? Am I a curse to him? Am I some kind of monster?”

  She released him, her fingers contorting. “Alder…didn’t do anything wrong. Why did he have to be cursed with me?”

  She slumped forward in her chair, her hair hanging limply before her face.

  “Do you know what it feels like to know that the person you love is dying because of you?” she asked.

  “No, I suppose I don’t.”

  “It’s the worst feeling ever. An unbalanced scale that will never be righted. A debt that can never be paid. A wrong that will never see justice. I sit here as both defendant and judge of myself. And I am guilty.”

  Andolf looked at her sympathetically. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Your spirits, they can trace the flow of magic, even manipulate the flow, right? I want you to reverse the flow that exists between Alder and myself.”

  His eyes went wide. “But, we are presently on our way to…”

  “Yes, but what if he doesn’t make it till then? He’s growing weaker every day.”

  Shaking, she cupped her hands over Alder’s face. “If he died because of me…I…I can’t even bear the thought of it. Please, take my life and give it to him.”

  Andolf was clearly disturbed by the suggestion. “What you are asking?”

  “I am NOT asking, I am begging.”

  Athel dropped to her knees, grabbing his robes. “Please. I love him. Please spare my husband. Please save his life.”

  “I…”

  “Reverse the flow, let my life flow into him, PLEASE! Let me give him something back. Even if it’s just once. Take all of it, I don’t care…just please, let him live.”

  The old man looked away regretfully. “What you ask is beyond my power.”

  Athel covered her face and wept. Deutzia wrapped a root around her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

  Andolf stood up, on the verge of tears himself.

  “I am sorry.”

  Quietly he left, leaving Athel alone in her sorrow.

  “Alder wouldn’t want you to give up your life, even if it was to save his,” Deutzia shimmered.

  “Don’t you think I feel the same way about him?”

  For a time, the two sisters stayed together, silently sharing one another’s burden. Ultimately, there was nothing that could be said. There were no words that would soothe, no balm that would heal. It was an open wound, as deep and as real as the stitches across her heart.

  Deutzia’s presence was soothing, and Athel finally managed to pat her root thankfully. When she did so, she noticed a presence on the other side of the door.

  Deutzia’s root swung the door open, revealing Privet sitting there in his wheeled chair.

  “How long have you been there?” Athel asked, wiping her eyes.

  He looked at her sympathetically. “I am always by your side. Even when you dismiss me.”

  She stumbled over and threw herself around his waist, hugging him tightly.

  “I hurt you too,” she sobbed. “I have done you deeply wrong, and I cannot undo it.”

  Privet placed his hand on her head and stroked her auburn hair. She seemed so small to him, so frail, like a little child.

  “When I was in the navy, I was in many battles,” he mused. “And every time, I was afraid to die.”

  Athel looked up. “You were?”

  He nodded. “Every time. I didn’t show it, but I was so scared. Shot and canister flying around, bolt and shrapnel. You’re never safe. At any moment, you could be hit by so
me flying piece of lead; you’d be gone before you even realized what happened. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve seen sailors slump over, gone without ever knowing they were hit. But, back on Wysteria, when I threw myself on top of you to stop those bullets, I wasn’t afraid at all. You’d think I would have been, but I wasn’t. Even as I felt the shots hit my spine, I wasn’t afraid to die. The only thought in my head was that I wanted you to live. When I saw that first shot hit you, I wanted to give anything to protect you, even all I had, my very life. I thought of all the days ahead of you, all the things you would do, all the things you would share. It seemed like a fair trade. I only had a few years left, anyway. I was willing to give them up if it would save you.”

  Privet looked at her sorrowfully. “But…when I see you so sad, when I see you suffering like this, I feel like I have done you wrong.”

  “H-how have you done me wrong?”

  He looked away, fighting back his own tears. “I feel like I have only extended your grief.”

  Athel’s eyes went pale. “I…I’m sorry. You saved my life, and I am squandering that gift. I’m making your sacrifice seem in vain. I’m disrespecting what you did for me. I’m wrong and I know it. Not just you, but everyone who fought to save me. But…I just can’t stop feeling this way.”

  With infinite gentleness, Privet leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Then, let’s do something about it.”

  “But, what?”

  He looked at her warmly. “Marry me.”

  “W-what?”

  You promised you would. Why wait? Let’s get married, here, today.”

  She pulled away from him. “What? After what we have learned, are you insane?”

  “Hear me out. I have an idea on how we can save Alder.”

  “By cursing you?”

  “Will you just hear me out?”

  She moved to yell at him, but when she glanced down at his legs, her anger was replaced by guilt. “All right. Go ahead.”

  Privet wheeled himself closer. “Here’s my idea. We’ve long known that men of Braihmin families live longer than men of lower households.”

  “Yes,” she said cautiously. “It’s just a couple of years on average, but yes.”

  “Oh, you say that like it’s a small thing. For you, who live centuries, it must seem so, but to us men, it is enormous. But, no one ever knew why, right? We just assumed it was Milia’s grace, her approval of the aristocrats. Now that we know how Wysterian magic really works, I don’t think that’s what causes it.”

  “No?”

  “No, I think it’s because Braihmin have so many husbands at once.”

  She furrowed her brow.

  “Think about it, Athel. If several men are linked to their wife through the same tree, and they end up living longer than the men who are the only husband…”

  Deutzia’s roots along the floor and walls sparkled brightly.

  Privet looked around. “What did she say?”

  Athel thought hard. “She said the men must be sharing the burden. Sharing their energies.”

  “Exactly. Which means, I think I know how we can help Alder, give him more time.”

  Athel looked terrified. “By marrying a second husband?”

  “Yes, think about it. If we are both linked to you through Deutzia, the draw on Alder will be lessened; he might even be able to get some energy from me.”

  Athel slowly shook her head. “No…I won’t even consider it.”

  “It’s a good idea.”

  Deutzia glittered enthusiastically.

  “See? Even she agrees with me.”

  “You don’t know what she said.”

  Deutzia glittered hopefully.

  “You stay out of this,” Athel ordered.

  One of Deutzia’s roots lifted up and smacked Athel on the back of the head.

  “Ouch! Back off, Deutz!”

  “Tell me what she said, then.”

  Athel rubbed her head, her heart aching in her chest. “She said that she has heard of older trees that could pull on some roots more than others. She thinks that with practice she could do that with you two.”

  “See? I’m not wrong.”

  He could see Athel’s heart turning away. He grabbed her and forced her to look at him. “This will give Alder more time. Time enough to free Veritus. To save his life.”

  Athel’s breathing was a panicked pant. “Privet, right now you aren’t linked to any tree. Madam Ochre and her tree have passed. Lady Tamarack and her tree are gone. You aren’t cursed to a woman right now. Right now, who knows how long you will live? But if you marry me…I’ll be killing you daily as well.”

  She broke free of his grip and walked away. “What you’re asking of me is a death sentence.”

  “Have I not proved to you yet that I am willing to give my life for you?”

  She spun around. “That does not mean I wish to take it! And certainly not by my own hand! Please, do not ask this of me. I beg of you. I would rather die.”

  Privet wheeled himself into the room, alongside Alder’s sleeping form. “Do you really think you are the only one here who cares for Alder?”

  She forced herself to look back at the two of them.

  Privet put his hand on Alder’s head. “As second husband, it is my duty to help him, after all.”

  Deutzia glowed brightly.

  Privet wheeled up behind her.

  “Athel, I know this is hard for you, but consider this. In a few weeks, we may all be dead anyway, and if that is the case, it won’t matter. But, if we do pull off a miracle and save the world, then I want Alder to still be with us to enjoy it.”

  Athel shivered, breathing in long gulps. “I…”

  Privet took her hand. “Please, I feel so helpless all the time. So useless. You have no idea how terrible it is to be a man who cannot work. Our whole lives, our only merit comes from what we can produce and achieve. A man who cannot work is worthless. How do you think it makes me feel to sit in my wheeled chair and watch people work while I sit and eat? It’s torture.”

  He looked over at Alder. “But this, this is something I can still do to help the people I care for.”

  Tears fell down Athel’s cheeks. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Privet…”

  He squeezed her hand. “Please. Have I not earned this one request from you?”

  She gasped in pain.

  He took her other hand. “Did we not promise to marry one another before the end, anyway?”

  Her mouth fell open. “I’m sorry I…I can’t”

  She let go of his hands and fled from the room.

  “I CAN’T!”

  Chapter Five

  (2,104 years ago)

  Dev’in could not recall Mariss ever looking so lovely as she stood across the burning brazier from him. Her veil was made from scrounged material, her necklace of precious stones were painted, and her anklet was little more than a bronze ring he had fashioned himself out of scraps. All of it a far cry from what was expected.

  But, looking into her lovely eyes, none of that mattered.

  The elder raised his hand. “All life carries the same flame within, whether fowl or fish, tree or earth. Water, fire, air, and earth are all expressions of the same spirit.”

  The elder motioned for Dev’in the remove a piece of the flame, and uncle Antin held the brazier for all to see. Devin reached his hand within and found the fire to be cool to the touch. As he removed his hand, a little blue fire danced on his palm.

  Uncle Antin passed the brazier to Mariss’ mom. Normally, the bride’s fellows would perform this part, but there were so few changelings left at this point, everyone had to pull double duty.

  Mariss’ mother could not have looked more proud as she held out the brazier. Mariss bit her lip happily, and reached her hand within. When sh
e withdrew it, a pulsing red flame bounced in her fist.

  “Flame within, and flame without. We share the fire in our hearts, and thus we share ourselves. We become the ocean, and the ocean becomes us.”

  “An ocean of hearts, an ocean of fire, and ocean of life,” the handful of changelings said solemnly.

  Dev’in and Mariss brought their hands closer together. As they did so, the flames they held grew brighter and brighter.

  “Have you picked out a name for your union?” the elder asked.

  Mariss nodded. “Yes, Overtin. It means ‘no mercy to the invaders.’”

  Those in attendance nodded in approval. Dev’in rolled his eyes, but went along with it.

  “Then add fire to fire and create a new life, the union of Dev’in and Mariss Overtin.”

  They took one another by the hand, and the two flames merged into one. As the blue and red swirled together in the air, the two newlyweds kissed below it, their bodies swirling together in mimic of the flame above them.

  There was not a dry eye in the room.

  There was a crack of thunder, and a cannon ball struck through the wall, shattering the brazier and knocking the elder back on his haunches.

  Everyone dropped down in fright as sunlight poured in through the hole in the wood. Mariss ran over to the widow of the abandoned cabin and looked outside. There, sailing in the waters off shore, was a collection of warships.

  “Oh no. They found us!”

  * * *

  (Present Day)

  Exhausted, Athel leaned back against the old withered stump and closed her eyes. The birds were chirping here, the cicadas buzzing excitedly. Ash snuggled dreamily into her bosom, reaching up and batting at a lock of her hair as he drank from his bottle.

  In the distance, she could hear the pinging of hammers as the men and women made hasty repairs to the ship while they took on fresh water and supplies.

  Footsteps approached, and Athel’s face pinched to hear them.

  “I’m kind of surprised they let you out on your own,” Mandi snickered. “Then again, I’m surprised they let out of your chains, too.”

  “I told them I wanted to spend some time with my baby. Alone.”