Isle of Wysteria: Throne of Chains
Page 32
Akar and Hanner stood before the portals, helping the thousands of men and woman board the ships. They formed them into lines as best they could, instructing others to grab supplies and water from the shelters.
Many of the men couldn’t help but look back on the homes they had lavished and slaved over for so many years. All the time spent decorating, painting, sanding, cleaning, and furnishing. In an instant, everything they had built, all the work and emotion had been reduced to nothing more than crumpled piles of rubble.
“Come on, guys, keep moving. There will be time to mourn later. Let’s get everyone out alive.”
When Ellie helped Dwale through the portal, she and Hanner caught one another’s eyes. His face pinched with anger as he picked up Strenner and held him close.
Ellie shrunk away. “Oh, it’s you! I…It’s been a long time…”
“Only been a few weeks for me,” he frowned.
“Right…”
Hanner shook his head in disgust. “Look, just get on the ship, okay?”
“Um…all right.”
Ellie stepped up to the portal then stopped to look back. “Thanks…for not shooting me. You would have been right to do so.”
He looked her over. “Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
The contrition in her voice got to him, and he shook his head regretfully. “I’ll never agree with what you did, but I…I guess I can understand why you did it.”
Her eyes became moist. “Thanks.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “Holy squat, you look so different. You look eight years older since I last saw you.”
She laughed and wiped her cheek. “That’s because I am. Nine, actually.”
“Well, I suppose nine years of good behavior is about enough for an early release.”
Ellie nodded and stepped through the portal. After Akar was satisfied that every single person was accounted for, he and Hanner stepped through and the gates closed.
* * *
Captain Evere found her in the powder keg storage. Sectioned off from the rest of the ship with double bulkheads, the magazine room held no lanterns, the only light coming from stained glass that allowed light to pass in from the next room.
There it sat on a table mounting. The dragon bone sword Jeni had forged. Here in the dim light, it looked like shimmering opal, glowing from within with ominous multi-colored flecks of light.
Athel stood before it, lost in its shifting surface.
“Have you ever killed anyone, Captain?” she asked without turning around.
Evere nodded sadly. “Quite a few, sad to say.”
Athel’s face pinched. “Does it get easier?”
“Ah, now that’s the scary part, isn’t it?” He pulled up a barrel of powder and took a seat on it. “The first time you are forced to kill, you lose something inside. After that, it gets easier and easier to do it again. If you’re not careful, it becomes too easy. You get too casual about it. Before you know it, you’re not even a person anymore, just a beast. I’ve seen good soldiers fall into the abyss and never come out again.”
Athel looked at her distorted reflection in the blade. “How did you keep from falling in?”
He smiled, his white teeth shining in the dim light. “I married a good woman.”
Athel placed her hand on her chest. “I’ve got no rudder, Allister. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. I don’t know what I’m not supposed to do, either. I used to live by a code. It was naïve, and contradictory, but it was mine, and it guided me…”
She clutched her hand over her scar. “Until it betrayed me. Since then, I found new purpose. I was going to save the people I love, and I was going to do whatever it took to make that happen. Now, I look at myself, and I’m afraid of what I see. I’ve got no root and no branches. I’m lost.”
“You’ve always wanted a set of rules you could apply in any situation, but reality doesn’t work that way, lass. You have to allow yourself the flexibility to determine what is right for this situation, even if the right choice breaks your own rules.”
“Rules that you break aren’t rules.”
“Aye, breaking rules has consequences. You can’t avoid that. But, sometimes the consequences of following the rules is worse than the consequences of breaking the rules. In the end, the only question you need concern yourself with is, ‘what is right?’”
“That’s the problem, I don’t know anymore. I’ve got nothing left to believe in. All I have is Alder, and I am so desperately afraid that I’m going to lose him too.”
“You’re wrong Athel.”
“Am I?”
He gave a sincere smile. “You’ve got us, too.”
She nodded in thanks, and then began to cry as she looked at her reflection in the blade.
“Look at me, Allister. I’m…I’m hideous.”
She reached up with her fingers and touched the scars and burns on her face. Her white, blind eye staring back from her reflection. “I look like a monster.”
“Hey, it will be all right.”
“No, it won’t. You don’t understand.”
“You don’t think I know what you’re going through? When I lost my eyes, and was forced to get these ugly black marbles, I thought I’d never be able to live around a mirror again as long as I lived. I used to smash ‘em, break ‘em, toss ‘em overboard. Anyone so much as brought a hand mirror I’d snatch it from them and destroy it. But, Mina helped me though it all. We’ll help you, too.”
Athel shook her head. “I don’t think you can help me with this.”
“Why not, lass?”
“Because I’m afraid…so afraid that this is what I really am inside. It’s just now finding its way to the surface. All seeds eventually grow into what they’re meant to be. I’m scared that this is the real me. I’ve felt it coming for a long time. Felt myself becoming colder, more callous, more cruel. I’m scared that the young woman I used to see in the mirror was just a shell, a seed from which something else is emerging. Something…evil.”
“This is not who you are; this is something that happened to you. Something that was done to you. It is not part of your core.”
“Isn’t it? Even when I was a kid, I was a bully and a braggart. When the other students showed more skill than me, I just browbeat them until they stopped trying to make myself look better. I was brash and rude, and I had no respect for anyone’s authority…”
“Actually, you still do that.”
“Right. I’ve tried to fight against it, I’ve tried to hide it, but the reality is…I’ve always been a bad person. Just look at the way I treat everyone. Look what my magic does. It hurts people, steals their life away. Takes the most precious thing imaginable and turns it into something as mundane as making crops grow. You know what else makes crops grow? Nothing, they grow all on their own. They just need a little water and sunshine. In the end, my magic does the most evil thing I can think of; it sacrifices precious life for nothing at all, a mere shortcut.”
“You didn’t know that’s what it did, lass. And, as soon as you found out, you stopped using it.”
“My magic is a part of me, a part of who I am. If anything, it aligns with everything else about me. I am a person that hurts others…all the time. I look at myself, and I realize something terrible.”
“What is that, lass?”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “I realize that I don’t like a single thing about myself. Not a thing.”
Athel stepped closer to the blade.
“I love Alder. I love him so much it hurts. I think about how his life would have been, how much better it might have been had he never met a monster like me, and it just makes me want to reach out and touch this blade.”
She reached out her hand. “Covenant Breaker. That’s what Jeni decided to name it. It seems appropriate,
given what it can do. Do you think it can sever destiny, too? Do you think…it could save Alder from me?”
“I wouldn’t do that, lass.”
“I promised to save him, didn’t I? Shouldn’t that include saving him from myself? I promised to do anything…”
She held out her fingers just above the blade. The material inside stirred, as if sensing her presence.
“It would be so easy,” she whispered. “One little cut, and I’ll lose my magic, and then I’ll finally stop hurting Alder. He’ll be free of me, free of the curse…the curse of me.”
“It’s not that simple, lass, and you know it. Right now, the connection between the four of you is probably the only thing keeping him alive. He and Privet are sharing energies. You take that away from him and he probably will die.”
Athel struggled. “I just want to stop hurting him…”
She pulled her fingers away, her hands hanging limply at her side.
“It hurts, it all hurts so much.”
“I know it does, lass.”
“When I was little, they taught me that I should be grateful for the lessons learned in this life. That I should celebrate the chance to grow and mature before returning to Milia. I was taught that this life was a gift.”
She turned to him, despair in her eyes.
“…But…I don’t. I don’t feel grateful for all this pain. I don’t rejoice, in any of it, and I feel guilty for even feeling that way to begin with.”
She dropped her face into her hands.
“I hate myself,” she whispered.
* * *
Dwale was having trouble getting used to the way Senndaisian ships traveled. Every few minutes, he had given up on trying to predict the interval, it seemed to happen whenever one of their Gatemasters felt like it, a gate would be opened before the fleet, and the dozen or so ships would pass through, leaping ahead a few miles at a time. They didn’t have a strict destination as of yet, for the moment they were just content to put as much distance between them and Madaringa as possible.
Setsuna came up behind him as he stood, leaning out over the railing to enjoy the breeze.
“Thank you for saving them,” he said warmly.
She looked around. “How did you know it was me behind you?”
“You’re the only one on the ship wearing heels. It gives you a distinctive clickety-clack.”
Setsuna glanced down and giggled. “Yeah, my sister Sawyn used to say that…”
“There never was a Sawyn, was there?” he asked directly.
Her enthusiasm drained away, and a sad look came over her.
“Why do you feel the need to lie?” he asked. “I don’t understand.”
She grabbed her elbow and looked out into the skies. “Lies, truth, what’s the difference? There was once a young girl who went by Sawyn. She was very gentle, but she had a bad life, and a bad father. She made a lot of mistakes, and they made her hard. Now, she’s gone, and I miss her, so it’s true enough for me.”
He reached out and took her hand. “You know, you don’t have to lie to me, Empress.”
“Tee hee. I like it when you call me that.”
He squeezed her hands. “I’m serious.”
She looked away, her armor crumbling. “I know you are. But, you just don’t understand. If you knew who I really was, the things I have done…”
In spite of herself, she found herself tearing up. “Dwale. I’m a woman of ill repute. I’m a thief. I’m a…”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No. Those are things you’ve done, they aren’t who you are.”
She looked back at him, uncertain. “Then who am I?”
“You are the woman who taught me how to read and gave me a home. You’re the woman who came to rescue me. You are my hero. That’s who you are.”
He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her warmly. The sensation was so instantly overwhelming, so completely disarming, that she found herself at a loss for words.
“Thank you for coming back,” he whispered.
“Oh wow,” she said, her heart pounding in her chest. “I could get used to this.”
She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him back. In her heart, she felt something she hadn’t felt but once before.
She felt like she was home.
“You…you really don’t want to know what I did?”
“No, this is all I need.”
She felt herself blush brightly. Being so vulnerable and open made her feel a little silly.
“You know, I should warn you, if you keep hugging me like that, I’m going to get addicted to it.”
He hugged her tighter. “Then I’ll give you your medicine every day.”
As they held each other, her green pigtails flapping in the wind, Akar came up with some of the other men.
“Am I interrupting, Guild Master?”
Setsuna’s eyes shot open.
“Wha? No, um…nothing…you’re fine, I’m fine, he’s fine, you’re fine, right?”
Dwale nodded.
Akar chuckled as Setsuna tried to redon her pirate hat and look dignified. “Wha-what can I do for you?”
“Thank you for saving us, Setsuna. Unfortunately, I’m not sure where you can take us. When we worked for the League they gave us food and a place to live. Now that we’ve run away, there is nowhere for us to go.”
“Actually, I have some people here who might have a thought or two on that.”
“You do? Who?”
Setsuna walked over to the captain’s cabin and opened the door.
“You’ll never guess who we stumbled upon on our way to Madaringa.”
A group of young women stepped out from inside. Their dress was coarse, their faces unwashed, their skin scorched from the sun. They looked so different; the men didn’t even recognize them at first.
Akar’s mouth fell open. “Is that…?”
The women unhooded themselves, their elegantly pointed ears giving them away as Wysterians.
Setsuna chuckled. “Yeah. They don’t know a thing about sailing. If we hadn’t helped them out, they might have flown off the edge of the map.”
Seeing each other for the first time since the revolution, both sides were silent and awkward. The men and women of Wysteria looked everywhere except at each other. No one knew what to say, or where to begin.
The only exception was Akar, who kept his icy gaze fixed on the women.
Orlaya Oleander stepped forward, fidgeting with her fingers. “Um, we’ve been looking for you for some time. I bring a message from the Holy See, my mother…”
Iris could hold back no longer and stepped up. “We were wrong for the way we treated you,” she blurted out. “We’re sorry.”
Many of the men were startled to hear this.
Orlaya nodded. “You are as much part of the forest as we are. We want you to come back.”
“Oh, so you’ve come with an order for us then?” Akar snarled.
“No, not an order. An invitation,” Iris explained. “We are incomplete without you…and I think you know you need us too. We are part of each other.”
While many of the men were elated to hear this, Akar bristled. “We are NOTHING like you, all right? Don’t even try to compare us, it’s insulting!”
The force of his words startled her. As she looked upon his crooked nose, and the brand on his cheek, she could not help but feel guilty for the part she played in giving them to him.
“A-all right,” she said somberly. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I…I can never understand what you went through. All I can do, is try to find a way to make it right.”
“There is nothing you or anyone can do to make it right!”
“There’s got to be something!”
Akar threw up
his hands. “We didn’t ask for much. Just basic rights of food, shelter, clothing, and dignity, and, do you remember your response?!”
The women lowered their eyes in shame.
Akar looked them over harshly. “You told us that we were property.”
Orlaya flinched to hear it. “We were wrong. The forest is dying without you.”
“Oh, so now that you need us, NOW you’re willing to change?!”
“It’s not like that…”
“Isn’t it? Didn’t the Buckthorns boast that they would marry us twenty at a time to make their magic more potent?”
His words cowed the women into silence.
Akar shook his head in disgust. “All we will ever be to you, is some disposable commodity. Right now you think you need us, but the minute you change your mind, it will all go back to the way it was.”
He turned around to address the men. “You’ll see. Go with them, and the freedom we’ve won will be forfeit.”
“No, it won’t, I swear it!”
Iris took out her staff and knelt before them. “I swear on the soul of my Ma’iltri’ia.”
“As do I,” Barberry announced.
“I, as well,” Escallonia added.
One by one, each of the young women bowed before them in oath. It was something never seen in living memory, and the effect of the women bowing before them was not lost on the men. Many of the men looked at each other, looking for confirmation that what they were seeing was not some trick of the senses.
Willowood stepped up. Having lost his cane, his son Kudzu propped him up for support. “Akar, perhaps we should consider this.”
“NO! Have you already forgotten how many good men we lost during the exodus? If we go back, they’ll never let us leave again.”
“Wysteria is our home too,” Yarrow pleaded. “I’d like to try.”
“NO! We can never forgive them for what they did!”
Iris stood up. “Please, Akar, there’s got to be a way.”
“No, there is no way.”
“I don’t want to see the forest die,” Hollis said. “None of us do.”
“Please Akar, there must be something we can say to make this up to you,” Iris pleaded.
“No, you can’t make this up.”