Isle of Wysteria: Throne of Chains

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  Jeni put out her hand and Talliun handed over the polished and cleaned heartstone. Jeni set it into the throat of the blade, into a little recess she had formed earlier. The stone jumped out of her hand, as if pulled by an unseen force, and slotted itself within.

  Rootlets of red energy like blood flowed out into the material, the entire length resonating and vibrating with a glittering sound, like a million ringing bells. Many present had to cover their ears in pain, but Jeni seemed to relish the sound. “Can you hear it? It’s about to be born,” Jeni announced, the red light reflecting in her eyes. “Just one more thing.”

  “It’s almost set,” Nana warned.

  Jeni reached into her collar and pulled out a thin metal rod. Lacking time to do it properly, she yanked the chain free, sending little links everywhere. She flipped the sword over and pressed the dye into the throat opposite the gemstone. With one final thwack of her hammer, her initials were impressed into the material.

  The blade cooled with a shriek and a roar, the stone soaking up all the heat like a sponge. The blade grew brighter and brighter, until it whited out everything in the cavern. People shielded their eyes. Some cried out in pain. As the light faded, it took some time for everyone’s vision to clear. When it did, they found Jeni holding the finished sword.

  It was cold. One knew it was cold without even having to touch it. It seemed to draw in all the ambient temperature in the cave, feeding off of it. Jeni’s breath misted to be so close to it. The blade was ghostly to look at, as if it only half-existed in this world, yet it contained reflections of fire within it. Ethereal flames of every color, faintly twisting and dancing about, like living memories of flying dragons at the edge of vision. When she twisted it and it caught the light, it seemed to almost vanish completely. Only at the right angles was it truly visible at all, at which point it appeared opal and iridescent. The heartstone suffixed to one side glowed like a slitted eyeball. It looked out, as if alive, and all who saw it swore they could feel it pushing into their minds.

  “This is the greatest thing I have ever made,” Jeni marveled, proud to see her initials glowing dimly in the material. Absentmindedly, her hand came up towards the blade.

  “Don’t touch it!” Nana warned sternly. “The slightest scratch, and you will be forever ruined.”

  “I know how to handle a sword, Mom.”

  “Not like this one. This is more dangerous than anything that has ever been birthed from our forges. More dangerous than any weapon ever forged since the creation of this world.”

  “Is it really that deadly?”

  “You have no idea. We shouldn’t even be looking at it. This…this blade is an abomination.”

  The sternness of her words caught everyone off guard.

  “The blade severs magic,” Athel explained. “All magic, of every kind. Even void magic. If it so much as scratched you, you would lose your magic forever, and your soul would be cut off from your god.”

  Jeni’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t tell me that’s what it could do.”

  Carefully, Jeni set the sword down on her work table, and backed away from it fearfully. “I can’t believe you made me forge such a thing.”

  Jeni wrapped her arms around herself, looking at her initials shamefully. “This…this is an evil thing.”

  She turned to her mother, looking angry. “You tricked me!”

  “I’m sorry, daughter.”

  “Not sorry enough!”

  Jeni looked at it again, her eyes wide. “And my seal is on it. I have brought a great evil into the world.”

  “It’s not evil, daughter. Nor is it good. It is a tool, and like any tool it can be used in a myriad of ways.”

  Nana Colenat turned to Athel. “How will you use it?”

  “I will use it to free the gods and heal the seas to save Alder’s life,” Athel stated firmly.

  Alder was clearly uncomfortable being the center of attention.

  “That’s all well and good, but what about afterwards?” Jeni asked, her voice shrieking a little. “This…thing cannot be unmade! How many future wars will be fought over it? How many swaths of blood will it carve out? All with my name attached to it?! You have put blood on my hands until the end of time!”

  “Your hands are clean!” Athel announced. “I swear it by my soul.”

  The force of her voice surprised Jeni.

  Athel stepped closer. “It was for this very reason I asked your mother not to tell you what it could do,” Athel explained firmly. “You are innocent, and you shall remain innocent. You didn’t know, so you are not responsible. All the blood spilled by this blade will be a stain on my honor, not on yours.”

  Jeni looked at her, relieved. “But…why would you do that?”

  Athel looked away. “Because I know what it feels like to be responsible for countless deaths, and it’s not something I would wish on anyone else.”

  Privet looked on her sadly. He reached out and took her hand, but she did not squeeze it back.

  “One of you will need to seal your blood to the blade,” Nana explained.

  Athel blinked. “Wait, what?”

  “It is a living thing. It will only recognize one master at a time. Which of you will wield it?”

  The crew of the Dreadnaught looked at each other uneasily.

  “We…uh,” Athel stammered. “I’m not really sure.”

  “You’re not sure?”

  “I guess it never occurred to me. I mean, Privet is by far our best swordfighter, but he…”

  She cut herself off, but it was too late. Everyone glanced down at Privet sitting in his broken wheeled chair.

  Athel closed her eyes, but it was too late to unsay. “I’m sorry.”

  Captain Evere straightened his hat. “That thing is as dangerous to the one who wields it as it is to the enemy. As the commanding officer, I should take the risk. I may getting long in the tooth, but I know my way around a cutlass.”

  “It’s not a cutlass, it’s a backsword,” Jeni corrected.

  “It’s long, pointy, and sharp; they’re all basically the same.”

  “No, they’re not. The grip and the balance point are…”

  “Husband, it should be me.”

  Mina stepped forward, Ash sleeping in her arms. “After all, Jabint and Celina already took my magic, I have less to lose than you do.”

  “No good man is going to stand by and let his wife take a risk like that,” Evere argued.

  “He’s right, you still have something to lose,” came a voice.

  All eyes turned to Alder, who was sitting up from the cot where he had been resting. He grabbed the wall, forcing his body to stand up on wobbly legs. “As a Wysterian man, I have neither magic nor a connection to a deity. The touch of that blade would be harmless to me.”

  “No, I won’t even consider it,” Athel insisted. “You can barely stand, and what’s more, the whole reason I’m doing this is to save you. I will not put you in harm’s way.”

  “She’s right, Alder,” Talliun seconded. “Spirea Sotol has void magic at her disposal. She will be a fearsome opponent even with this sword on our side.”

  Athel clenched her chest in pain as a noise approached. The pull was growing stronger. Everyone turned as Margaret came down the carved stone steps, leading a guest with her.

  “Hey everyone, you’ll never guess who came to visit us,” Margaret announced happily. The visitor was a tall and slender woman. The effortless natural poise, the graceful swan-like neck, Athel recognized her even before she withdrew her hood, revealing her face.

  “Solanum. What are you doing here?” Athel asked aloud. The pull pointed right at Solanum.

  Solanum looked around, confused. “I’m…not sure.”

  For a moment their eyes met, and the clouds behind her eyes faded enough for a moment of lucidity. Solanum’s eye
s began to tear up.

  “Sister…I’m sorry…she…she tricked me…”

  Solanum was kicked from behind, and fell tumbling down the stairs. Her attacker revealed herself, a beautiful strong woman with cruel eyes, wearing an ornate suit of black armor.

  “Dahlia Buckthorn?!”

  Margaret never saw it coming. Dahlia drew a mace from her belt, the heavy steel head crackling with black energy as she swung it. The weapon struck Margaret in the shoulder, shattering the bones and sending her flying down the steps, screaming in pain.

  It was so immediately violent, so unexpected, that it seemed unreal for a moment. Everyone stood frozen in place as Dahlia stepped down, crushing Margaret’s glasses beneath her armored boot.

  “Curse you, leaf-witch!” Captain Evere drew his rifle and fired, but the shot bounced off a field of black magic that surrounded her and implanted itself into the wall.

  “Look out!” Athel yelled, but it was too late. Dahlia rushed at Evere, sliding along a wave of black flame that propelled her with frightening speed. Evere tried to dodge, but she was too fast. Her first swing caught his rifle, splintering it apart in his hands.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, you filthy foreigner!” Dahlia gushed.

  Her second swing hit the side of his knee, breaking the bone and bending it sideways with a sickly snap.

  “You desecrated my forest, you corrupted our men!”

  She spun around and landed a vicious spin-kick, throwing the aging man to the ground in agony.

  Mina howled in rage, jumping at Dahlia, clawing at her face, but each strike bounded off the black barrier. Dahlia reached out and snatched her wrist with an armored gauntlet. As Mina bit and snapped with her fangs, Dahlia lifted her up, her feet kicking in the air.

  “I am so sick of your stench, Mesdan!”

  Dahlia squeezed, and Mina’s wrist crunched and popped in her grip. Mina yelped in pain, barely able to hold onto Ash with her free hand. Dahlia punched Mina in the gut, folding her in half as the sound of cracking rib bones echoed through the hall.

  Ryin and Rachael drew their pistols and fired, but the shots bounced off harmlessly.

  “How dare you come into my home and attack my guests!” Nana Colenat yelled. But Dahlia ignored her.

  Discarding Mina to the floor, Dahlia kicked up a wave of black fire and surfed across the floor, charging straight at Ryin, smashing through row after row of reflectors as if they were made of paper. Talliun locked her tumbler and fired a powerful blast of lighting, but the tines deflected off Dahlia’s field, cutting deep channels into the cave wall instead.

  With one swing Dahlia hit Ryin in the chest, shattering his apron and cracking his sternum as he was thrown against a reflector in agony, then with a reverse swing Dahlia caught Rachael in the back of the leg, snapping the bone and flipping her up into the air. Dahlia pulled her fist back and punched the woman in midair, slamming her back down to the ground, screaming in pain.

  “You squandered our water, you left my forest in ruin! And so, I will do the same to your bodies! Each and every one of you!”

  “You are a fool to attack a Ferran whilst wearing a suit made of metal,” Nana Colenat spat. She clenched her fist, intending to roast Dahlia alive inside of her own armor, but nothing happened.

  Jeni grabbed the spigot from her forge and tilted it horizontally, sending out a jet of black fire at their attacker, but the field spilt the flames before her. The jets of fire hit the cave walls, reducing a huge section of the far wall to molten slag.

  Dahlia slammed her gauntlets together and released a powerful wave of darkness, throwing Jeni and Nana back and smashing them against the observation bunker, knocking them both out cold.

  Dahlia spun around and her weapon at Athel. Athel’s scar burned, but the rest of her went cold.

  “You know, Athel, this suit was built for Queen Sotol herself. She had the Kabal fashion it for her, using their darkest magics, to protect her from whatever scheme you cooked up. Can you believe she wanted you dead so badly, she was willing to give it to me so I could finish you off?”

  With shaking hands, Athel drew her pistol and fired, but the shot bounced off harmlessly. Dr. Griffin pulled a handful of glass vials from his belt and threw them. They exploded against Dahlia’s field, concealing her beneath a cloud of sparkling, multi-colored fumes.

  Dahlia laughed from within, her armor creating a bubble of fresh air around her. She waved her hand, and a wave of darkness blew the smoke over the greasy balding man. Dr. Griffin gasped and choked, collapsing to the ground as he clutched his throat painfully.

  “Just the way you look at me, with those disgusting male eyes of yours, incites me to loathing,” Dahlia spat.

  Talliun charged at the woman, punching a quick trio of sonic blasts. Dahlia ignored the attacks, allowing them to bounce off her shield, as she lifted up her mace and swung again. Talliun somersaulted past the attack, then spun her tumbler and punched down at the floor. The mighty jet of fire she released illuminated the entire cavern, but flowed around Dahlia’s armored legs without ever touching them.

  Dahlia cackled wildly and swung again. This strike smashed into Talliun’s brass shoulder, shattering her prosthetic arm to smithereens. Talliun looked on in horror as the thousands of components that had only a second before been a part of her body, spun slowly in the air before her.

  Talliun hit the ground, shrieking in anguish as she grabbed at the ruined metal stump on her shoulder, glowing fluids dripping out.

  “The traitor captain, oh, I expected better of you,” Dahlia snarled. “Haven’t you figured out yet that the filthy foreign magics you sold your soul for cannot hurt me?”

  Despite the pain, Talliun staggered to her feet, stumbling backwards away from her. “I sold my soul? Then what did you do?”

  “I demanded a weapon and I was granted it. As a Braihmin, it was my right and privilege. You could have shot me all day with your fire, and it would have accomplished nothing.”

  Talliun stumbled backwards farther, her strength giving out from the pain as she fell backwards amid the stacks of cordwood.

  “I wasn’t aiming at you, Dahlia.”

  Dahlia looked down at the glowing floor and realized that her boots, while unharmed, had sunk down into the molten rock up to her ankles. She shifted her weight, trying to free a foot, but the heavy rock resisted her and she sunk a little farther.

  “Heh, no matter.”

  Dahlia reached out her arm and a shadow stretched out, wrapping itself around Athel’s neck and lifting her up into the air. Athel gagged and coughed, grasping at her throat as Dahlia tightened her grip.

  “I will have my revenge regardless.”

  Athel’s face turned red, her feet kicking. Dahlia squeezed and listen to Athel’s bones creaking under the strain.

  “I would have waited a millennia for this moment, Athel,” she hissed in satisfaction. “I love the look on your face right now. The fear, the anticipation of oblivion…your miserable, treacherous life passing before your eyes. I can see you wondering where it all went wrong. You were once the crown princess of a noble people, from our greatest house. Now, nothing more than a common criminal, being justly executed for her crimes in some distant, dank pit. There won’t even be a tombstone to mark your remains.”

  Athel’s face began to turn blue, her struggles weakening.

  Dahlia sneered. “What? No last words, Forsythia? No pithy remark, no witty repartee?”

  “How about goodbye?” came a tiny voice from above.

  Dahlia looked up just in time to see Bunni Bubbles standing atop the release gate for the crucible. Privet and Alder yanked on the chain, while Bunni pulled the pin.

  Dahlia tried to jump away, but her feet held her fast. The gate flew open, releasing a gout of molten steel down towards the cave floor below. Andolf summoned his spirits
, the spectral wisps swirling around the white-hot material, herding it into a downpour that landed directly atop Dahlia.

  The steel plopped into her like thick mud, covering her completely as she screamed; the water and design of the floor rapidly cooling it into a squealing, creaking mass of metal.

  The darkness that held her vanished, and Athel fell gasping to the floor.

  The ground began trembling, the cavern began to shake. The metal tomb cracked, black fire spilling out of the seams, then it exploded apart.

  Privet was thrown back into Jeni’s anvil, his chair shattering as a hunk of steaming slag smashed into it. He fell to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. Andolf and Albashire were thrown back against the reflectors, mercifully falling limply in between them as a storm of metal tore through the cavern, peppering every surface like buckshot.

  A chunk struck Athel in the face, throwing her head back against a crystal. Amid the searing pain, her vision on one side went completely dark.

  Dahlia flexed at the center of the crater she had created, her black armor crackling and sparking with dark magic. The entire cavern was all but destroyed. She scooped up her mace and walked over to Athel where she lay, bruised and bloodied from the explosion.

  Dahlia reached down and flipped her over. “No! No you look at me when I kill you! I want to see your face when you die!”

  Athel weakly opened one eye, her other too drenched with blood to open. The entire left side of her face was lacerated.

  “Yes, that’s it,” Dahlia hissed.

  “No…”

  Weakly, Alder crawled up on all fours, and wrapped his frail little arms around Dahlia’s leg.

  “Let go of me, you parasite!”

  “Please…please don’t kill her,” Alder whispered, barely able to speak. “Take me instead.”

  “No, Alder, don’t. She’s a killer.” Athel shook her head, trying to gain her bearings. The whole world was spinning and ringing as she lay there.