Isle of Wysteria: Throne of Chains

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  “Allium!” Lady Jackdaw screamed. Her daughters had to restrain her from running out into the field.

  As they watched the mighty Nallorn tree die, the women of Wysteria wept bitterly.

  * * *

  Ellie was startled into consciousness by the sound of glass breaking. She sat up in her bed, just in time to see a brick miss her head and slam into to wall next to her.

  Breathing heavily, she drew her covers in, looking around with wild eyes. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears. She could hear the footsteps of whoever threw it disappearing into the distance.

  Sensing her alertness, the dark band of mist around her neck awoke, sending everything she saw and heard away to Queen Sotol in her lair. Ellie pulled in her legs tightly. She wanted to cry so badly, her chest hurt from it.

  When her eyes became moist, she clenched her fists and wiped them dry.

  “I will never cry again.”

  She picked up the brick and tossed it into a pile with the others. The walls of her room were pitted and chipped from dozens of such impacts. She sat up and shook her shoes to check for glass. It had only happened once, but that was enough to make it a daily habit. She stood up and walked over to her dresser, which had been graffitied with all manner of curses and slang, but it was the large red letters across her wall that hurt her the most.

  “Traitor,” she translated aloud. “They misspelled it again.”

  She didn’t feel like a traitor, but she felt the guilt of one. She glanced at her shattered mirror, the fragments reflecting a distorted and fractured image of her. Blankly, she reached up to tilt it so she could get a better view of herself, but the nail broke free and the whole thing came crashing to the floor.

  She left it where it landed, leaving without changing into her work clothes or washing up.

  It wouldn’t help. She never felt clean, no matter how hard she scrubbed.

  A little black wisp peeked in and gave a click before moving on.

  When Ellie passed through the door, something tugged on the back of her scalp. Looking back dolefully, she found that some of her long hair had snagged on the handle.

  She pulled her head a little harder, but it only hurt her scalp. Irritated, she looped her hand inside her hair and gave a good hard yank, the tips tearing free.

  Absentmindedly, she took her hair and gathered it up into a pony tail to keep it out of the way. It was halfway down her back now, full of split ends and gnarled knots. She wasn’t even intentionally growing it out at this point, it was just too much of a bother to get it cut.

  “Go on, get out of here!” an angry man shouted as she made her way through the lunch counter. It didn’t seem to matter what time of day she came, there was always someone who recognized her.

  “It’s her, the Kabal spy they put in here,” a pair of women whispered.

  From somewhere an egg was thrown. It struck Ellie in the temple, but she didn’t even flinch. The yolk and shell dripped down her morose face. She made no attempt to wipe it free.

  Dwale stood there in his apron, looking concerned.

  “Good day, Lady Ellie,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. “I managed to save you some of the cherry meringue from this morning.”

  For a brief moment, her sunken eyes flickered up to him as he reached beneath the counter and produced a plate filled with delicious desserts.

  “Dwale, what are you doing?” a navy man argued as he stomped over, his insect-like antennae flitting about angrily.

  “I am feeding my customer,” Dwale said softly.

  “We don’t feed turncoats,” the man spat, yanking the plate out of Dwale’s hands.

  “But, I’m hungry,” Ellie said, despite herself.

  “Oh, you want food?”

  The man pulled the wet cigar out from his mandibles and ground it into her plate. “Here. That’s for all my friends who died on Paxillus because of you.”

  Ellie held up the plate and looked at it. The red embers smoldering amid thick, gooey saliva. She tried to hold it in, she tried to clamp down on her feelings as hard as she could. She tried to justify, reason, and deflect every accusation she made in her heart, but none of it helped.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  She set down her plate and walked away without eating. Some of the navy people cheered to see her suffer. As she left the hall, a wine glass was thrown and struck her in the back of the head.

  She fell to the ground, and they cheered even louder. She picked herself up and walked away, ignoring the blood dripping down her back.

  After his shift, Dwale found her at her usual spot. Beyond the north wall there was a section where the shimmering time dome settled down just outside a stone gated fence, leaving a four-foot gap between the fence and the prismatic wall. A person crouching down there could not be seen from anywhere inside the prison, unless you happened to walk up and look over the side of the wall.

  Dwale came around, his walking stick tapping against the cobblestone to check of any loose rocks or pebbles that might have caused his to stumble.

  Ellie sat there despondently, looking at the ground before her.

  “What are you doing?” Dwale asked, reaching out to find the fence and sitting down behind her.

  “Looking at poo.”

  Dwale furrowed his brow, unsure if he heard her correctly.

  “Did you say…?”

  “Yes.”

  Ellie leaned to the side, revealing the large plop of animal poo she was staring at.

  “I thank you for making room, but I’m afraid I am blind,” Dwale gently corrected.

  “Oh, right, I forgot,” she said, returning upright and staring intently at the poo.

  Dwale took a moment to choose his words carefully. “May I ask why you are…staring at feces?”

  “Ask away.”

  Dwale tried to ignore the absurdity of it all. “Why are you…?”

  “Because she can see it.”

  Dwale scratched at the bandages around his eyes.

  Ellie reached up and ran her fingers through the black mist surrounding her neck like a collar. “Everything I see is sent into her mind, so I spend a few hours each day looking at this pile of poop. Somehow I like the idea that I can force this image into her head. Makes me feel like I have some power over her.”

  Dwale reached out and found her shoulder. She was taller than him now. “I’m sorry for the way the others treat you. They don’t understand.”

  “No, they do understand. It’s you who doesn’t get it. I’m responsible for the God Poe going into a rage and attacking the Alliance.”

  She shrugged her shoulder, pushing his hand away. “Don’t waste your tears on me. I don’t deserve them.”

  She pulled her knees in close. “Even I don’t cry for me anymore.”

  Dwale straightened his back. “A woman is always deserving of compassion.”

  “Oh please. Just because I’m a woman? After all this time, you still believe in all that church of Milia stuff? After everything the Wysterians did to you?”

  Dwale reached into his pouch and fished for something. “Just because someone does not always act divine, does not mean they do not have the potential. It is that potential within all women that I venerate.”

  He set a box in her hands. The sweet scent of cherry wafted up from within.

  “We all have the seed of goodness within us,” he said gently. “Sometimes it just needs a little water.”

  She hid her face. A tear fell on her hand.

  “Thank you.”

  Dwale sat there patiently and quietly while she ate her treat, never once taking her eyes away from the animal dropping before her.

  He heard a familiar ting as a utensil hit the plate.

  “Is that the knife Ryin gave you?”

  His question caught her
of guard. She turned around and looked at him.

  “How did you know that?”

  “It has a different sound than the cutlery we’ve forged here.”

  “Oh.”

  Ellie turned back and held the knife in her hand, looking over the shiny surface, the metal beautifully swirled with different colors, like a fingerprint.

  “I’m kind of surprised I still have it,” she mused, testing its weight. “You know, it’s funny. I meant to throw it away so many times. But…here it is.”

  “It sounds like you have unfinished business.”

  Her eyes became distant. “I guess I’ll never know. For a long time, I wanted to talk to him again. Wanted to apologize…”

  Her lip quivered. “But when I did, he turned me down.”

  “Then perhaps you should give him another chance?”

  “No. I have nothing to live for.”

  There was an audible snap, and the ring of darkness around her neck faded away.

  “Finally,” she grunted.

  Suddenly she was a different person. A flurry of energy and focus. She reached into her shirt and pulled out a folded piece of papyrus. Quickly, she laid it out before her, adding furiously to the intricate drawings already present like a woman possessed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Finishing my sketch,” she said quickly, glancing up to check her work. “A detailed map of the tower we’re constructing. The runic incantations, the mana channels, the shafts that point up to each constellation.”

  “But…why?”

  She put her quill in her mouth and took out an eraser, correcting a mistake. “Can’t talk…drawing.”

  Dwale was flustered. At times like this, he regretted discarding the artificial eyes Setsuna had purchased for him. “But…won’t she see what you are doing?”

  Ellie looked up and copied down some of the new incantations carved into the north wall. “Queen Sotol finally got tired of looking through my eyes and switched it off for a while. This is the only time I can be myself.”

  “You mean…all of that was an act?”

  His question made her pause. “No, I do feel that way.”

  She got back to work. “But I suppose I did embellish it quite a bit. The more she thinks I’m inert with sadness, the more comfortable she is looking away for a few minutes.”

  Dwale felt like he had been tricked. “So, did you mean it when you said you have nothing to live for?”

  “No, I have found something to live for.”

  “You have? What?”

  She rolled up the finished schematic and slapped it into his hands. “Revenge.”

  “R-revenge?”

  “Yes, and you are going to help me.”

  His mouth fell open.

  “I am?”

  * * *

  Athel stirred pleasantly in her bed, the warm cozy scent of baking bread caressing her senses. A hint of cinnamon, and a sweetness that was a mix of honey and apricot.

  Her eyes shot open when she realized what it was.

  Athel threw off her covers and jumped out of bed, nearly knocking poor Privet to the floor as she scampered over him and ran out into the corridor.

  Still in her nightgown, she ran into the galley, and found Alder there, quietly chopping up vegetables.

  “Alder!”

  Alder barely had time to turn his head before she was on him, embracing him in a hug that nearly tackled him over.

  “Oh, good morning, Miss Athel,” he said warmly, trying to keep his balance. “Forgive me if I woke you.”

  Athel hugged him as tightly as her trembling arms would allow. Tears of joy ran down her face. “Oh, Alder, I missed you so much. I thought I’d never see you again.”

  Alder smiled gently and returned her embrace. “I’m sorry to have caused you worry, my dear Athel.”

  “Why? Why didn’t you tell me that you had the stillness?” Athel cried, her heart pouring out emotions faster than she could process them.

  Alder looked ashamed. “I was wrong to mislead you. I just didn’t want you to be unhappy.”

  She held him even tighter, making him grunt. “You idiot! Do you really think I could be happy without you?”

  “But…”

  She looked up at him, her eyes red. “Do I look like I was happy?”

  His eyes swam. “No, I suppose not.”

  Athel wiped her cheek and poked a finger in his chest. “If you are sick, you tell me, okay? I want to know every detail, no matter how bad it is, okay?”

  He smiled at her lovingly. “All right.”

  Athel took his face and leaned forward to kiss him. He had been asleep for so long, she had forgotten how much taller than him she was. When their lips touched, all of her pent up fears and feelings came flooding out. One moment she laughed as they kissed, overjoyed to hold him again in her arms, and to be held by him, the next moment she was sobbing, letting lose all the pain of losing him. It was a kiss that contained every emotion, and it lasted for so long, her lips were a bit sore by the end of it.

  “I love you, Aldi,” she said, holding him close so he could not leave her.

  “I love you too,” he said.

  “No, I mean I love you, I really love you,” she implored, desperate for him to feel it as deeply as she meant it.

  His beautiful eyes looked her over with that pure adoration she had missed for so long. “I love you too, Athi,” he returned. They may not have been able to share their feelings through the trees, but in her heart, she knew that he did indeed feel it as deeply as she had meant it.

  Athel found herself nearly bubbling over. “I love you, Alder, I love you so much.”

  Alder chuckled. “I believe you. You don’t have to keep saying it.”

  “Yes I do,” she sobbed, pulling him into her and holding him even tighter. “Because, for a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to say it again. So, now I’ll say it all the time.”

  Alder peeked out at the stove. “Do you mind if I move the tray between recitations?”

  She looked over and saw black smoke creeping out from the oven.

  “Oh no, I’m sorry,” she yelped, releasing him.

  “It’s quite all right,” he said gently, opening up the over and fanning the smoke away. “I was fairly disoriented when I woke, but then I saw the kitchen here and I started to feel at ease. I thought I might surprise you with an apricot cobbler.”

  He took out the burned dessert and set it on the stove. “I think I might be able to salvage the center for you.”

  “I guess I kissed you longer than I thought,” she apologized. “Can you blame me?”

  He shook his head. “Never.” It made her heart jump to see it. She had forgotten how adorable he could be.

  Alder scraped the charcoal and closed the stove, taking a moment to look around. “Athel, where are we? Why are we not back at your palace?”

  The question darkened her countenance, and her eyes became sad. All the feelings she had been struggling against came bubbling back up to haunt her.

  “Alder…you should probably sit down.”

  Detecting the seriousness of her tone, he did as he was asked.

  Athel fidgeted with her fingers, desperate to avoid saying what she knew she must.

  “First, let me say that I love you dearly, Aldi…”

  “Yes, I recall you saying as much.”

  Athel’s face pinched. “…And I want you to know things are going to be different between us. I’m going to be a better wife, a real wife. I’m going to work as hard as I can every day to make you comfortable and happy, like you deserve…”

  Alder stood up and took her hands in his. “Athel, no matter what it is, you can tell me.”

  Their eyes met. His confident and peaceful, hers anxious and guilt-ridden
. His gentle touch and loving gaze gave her strength.

  Athel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wanted so badly to run from the room, to be anywhere but here. “Alder, back on Wysteria, we found out something terrible. Your stillness, the stillness of all our men, is being caused by our women’s magic…”

  Her voice cracked, her eyes tearing up anew. “I…I’ve been slowly killing you ever since we got married…your…your stillness is my fault.”

  His mouth came open, and his face went pale. “I…see.”

  His legs became a little wobbly, and he had to let go of her hands to sit back down.

  Athel was devastated, the feelings she felt when she first learned the truth stabbing her heart, as painful as it had been the first time. The scar over her heart burned in agony.

  Alder put her hands over his mouth, trying to take it all in. “So much makes sense now.”

  Athel’s mouth burst open. “I’m so sorry, Aldi!…I…I didn’t know. No one did!”

  She felt her entire frame shake, her insides turning to jelly under the weight of the guilt she felt.

  He looked up at her gently. “I forgive you, Athi.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “How? How can you forgive me just like that? After all I did to you?”

  He stood up, his own eyes tearing up. “Because I love you.”

  Athel broke down crying and fell into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly while she sobbed. “I’m sorry,” she bawled. “I’m so sorry…”

  He silenced her cries by placing his lips against hers and kissing her anew. It was such a pure and tender thing, it took her breath away. Athel gasped audibly as he slid his hand beneath her ear, and gently cupped the back of her neck, drawing her in for an even tighter kiss.

  It felt like he was drawing out all her pain, removing her sorrow, somehow sucking it out of her heart. It was more magical than anything else she had ever felt in her life.

  He felt so strong to her, so overwhelmingly strong, and she basked in the glow of his love. It was spiritual sunlight, after a long dark winter. Like venom removed from a wound, she felt her injured soul slowly begin to recover.