Isle of Wysteria: Throne of Chains

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  “There’s another one over here,” she warned.

  “On it!”

  Privet ran up behind her, a blindfold covering his eyes.

  “Five feet forward, eleven o’clock.” she guided.

  She jumped aside; Privet adjusted his path and slashed his weapon. The ghostly blade passed completely through the statue as if it wasn’t even there. Dark spectral light poured out, and the stone crumbled away into nothing.

  “Good thing you don’t have a soul,” Privet commented, taking a peek out from beneath his blindfold.

  “I was built for dress-up and play time,” she beamed, clapping her little hands.

  “Well, you keep spotting those nasty statues and you’ll be the winner.”

  “Yay! I like this game!”

  “That makes five. Just how many more of these things are there?” Athel wondered as she came around with the others.

  “They’ve changed a lot since I was here last,” Mandi commented. “But the gods can’t be moved. They will still be imprisoned beneath the temple.”

  “The spirits sense great misfortune there,” Andolf reported, his eyes closed.

  Athel drew her crossbow. “Then that’s where we go. Be careful, everyone. One glance at one of these gargoyles, and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”

  “Look out!”

  Talliun tackled Athel to the ground. A bolt of black fire destroyed the ground where she had been standing only a second before, leaving a smoldering crater behind.

  “There’s a bad guy on the tower!” Bunni warned, pointing up.

  The Kabalist guard released a second bolt at the two prone women. Privet stepped before it and slashed. The black fire split in two and evaporated, Covenant Breaker purring with delight in his hands.

  The guard stood in disbelief at what he just saw, then grew great black wings and flew towards them, joined by two others.

  “Here they come!”

  The trio of guards released beams of dark energy, smashing the walls and ground around them, and showering them with debris.

  * * *

  Dobsworth came running in, his silver tray clattering to the ground as he stumbled to his knees. Nana and Jeni looked up from their meal in surprise.

  “Lady Colenat. The hills!”

  Nana nearly knocked over the table as they ran to the widow. She could already hear the neighbors screaming in the distance. She looked to the hills, and saw a thin line of seawater cresting at the upper edge.

  “Get to the roof!” She screamed. Get everyone as high as you can!”

  The top of the hills broke free, releasing a muddy, acidic slurry spilling down into the valley. The seas consumed all before them, squealing with joy as they raced down the dissolving slopes.

  * * *

  “Block high!” Bunni yelled as she perched on Privet’s broad shoulder.

  The Kabalist spun around, his arm stretching out into a great, black scythe threatening to decapitate Privet.

  Even blindfolded, Privet’s body reacted with almost supernatural speed. He ducked below and slashed upwards, his blade passing through his attacker’s arm as it passed overhead.

  The Kabalist shrieked in agony, his destroyed magic spilling out of his eyes and mouth in a fountain of dark.

  “Dodge low!”

  Privet somersaulted away, barely escaping being cleaved in half by a giant scythe that bit into the bleached stone from a second attacker.

  “Behind you!”

  Privet rolled to the side as a torrent of black fire cut a deep furrow into the ground where he had been.

  Andolf formed his spirits before him, barely managing to deflect the blast of black fire when it reached him. The stream flew off, striking the side of a slouching building and toppling it to the ground.

  One of the Kabalists pulled himself into a tight ball then flung his wings open, releasing a storm of razor sharp feathers.

  Hearing them coming at her, Mandi cart wheeled away, crashing into the melted remnant of a statue.

  “This is impossible!” she yelled clamoring to her feet and adjusting her blindfold. “How are we supposed to fight like this?”

  She fired blindly into the air, hitting nothing. Her attacker flew over her and prepared to strike again.

  There was a snap of crossbow, and a shot struck the man in the wing. Green paralytic lightning crackled across his body, and he came spinning and crashing to the ground.

  Athel replaced her blindfold over her eyes and reloaded her crossbow. “They’re trying to draw us into more gargoyles. Stick to the area we’ve cleared. Keep the forum in between us and the uncleared areas so you don’t accidentally catch a glimpse.”

  Unseen by Athel, a woman with a dagger in her mouth was creeping up behind her.

  * * *

  The great windows cut into the rock grew dark as the storm clouds gathered outside. Already the lower levels of Thesda had flooded. Eerie screams echoed though the stone corridors as they filled with seawater. Fleeing crowds of frightened people ran through the university campus, seeking higher ground. Mothers clung to crying children. Fathers pushed against the throngs, desperate to make a path for their families. Everywhere there were people screaming, praying, and weeping.

  The stone cracked, opening up deep fissures from below. The world shook. People were thrown to the ground, and against the walls. The entire mesa was being torn apart from within.

  The sea was coming. This was the end.

  * * *

  Athel took a kick to the chest, throwing her back against a gargoyle. She slumped over in pain, clutching the knife embedded in her shoulder.

  As lightning flashed, her attacker charged in close for the kill. Unable to see, Athel countercharged, tackling the woman to the ground. Blindly grabbing her hair, Athel punched the woman in the face, only to take a knee to the gut and be flipped over.

  Talliun spun around, delivering a spin kick against the guard before her, but hit nothing but air. The Kabalist’s body erupted into a volley of tentacles that lashed out at her with razor-tipped barbs.

  Bunni Bubbles threw herself into Talliun, knocking her out of the way just in time. The barbed tentacles embedded themselves into a melted statue.

  Andolf released his spirits, the ghostly wisps wrapping themselves around the statue and cementing the barbs into place.

  “Cut it now!” Bunni yelled. “Three o’clock!”

  Privet leapt towards the sound, his sword above his head. The Kabbalist tried to pull free, but he was held fast. Privet sliced through the tentacles, and the man screamed as his magic was destroyed.

  Mandi crept beside a gargoyle, listening as best she could. The rubble near her stirred and the injured Kabalist emerged with a broken wing. He lifted his hands and formed a ball of dark energy, but she was quicker. She leveled her crossbow pistol towards the sound and snapped off a shot. The bolt knocked him unconscious, and he dropped to the ground.

  Athel was forced to her feet, her injured arm wrenched behind her waist as she struggled.

  “Do you know what it feels like to have your soul sucked clean from your body?” the woman asked cruelly. She yanked Athel directly before the gargoyle and tore her blindfold off.

  Sensing her intentions, Athel had already closed her eyes tight, but the women groped her fingers across her face from behind and forced an eye open.

  Athel screamed in pain, her feet kicking in the air as the woman held her in place.

  Bunni Bubbles saw what was happening and covered her mouth. “Oh no, Athel!”

  Privet turned his blindfolded head, trying to get his bearings. “Where? Where is she? What’s happening?”

  He tried to run towards the screams, but tripped over a loose stone and came crashing to the ground.

  Athel’s feet went limp. Her fingers contorting, she reached up
and laid hold of the dagger in her shoulder. Howling in pain, she pulled the blade free and stabbed her attacker through the wrist.

  The woman shrieked and dropped her. Athel hit the ground and rolled to her feet, aiming her crossbow.

  The Kabalist stood there, stunned.

  “How…how are you alive?”

  “I’m blind in that eye.”

  She fired her bolt and green lightning flashed. The woman fell to the ground.

  * * *

  The Kwili people fled up the hillside, their simple huts pulled down and consumed by the ocean water flooding across the plains. A few, too old or stubborn to leave, went into shadow form when the waters reached them, but could only maintain it for a few moments before their magic failed them, and they, too were erased.

  Naanie held his son Nuutrik close as he urged the people higher. “Do not look back!” he bade in their native tongue. “Hold to one another, do not let go, no matter what happens!”

  The waters gathered around the hills, the frightened people clustering at the top in a tighter and tighter bundle as the seas rose around them.

  The hills shuddered and fractured. The entire southern slope collapsed down into the dark broiling liquids.

  Nuutrik tucked his face into his father’s chest. “Dadi, I’m scared.”

  Naanie held his son’s tiny head. “Don’t look son, just look away. Keep your eyes shut.”

  The waters drew closer.

  * * *

  Privet slashed twice with Covenant Breaker, and the two gargoyles guarding the entrance to the temple crumbled to dust.

  Bunni ran inside and looked around. “That’s the last of them!”

  Athel and the others ran inside. Initially, they were thankful to remove their blindfolds, but the sight that greeted them quickly changed that feeling.

  The discolored marble floors were littered with dead Kabalists, their blank eyes staring lifelessly up, shock and fear frozen on their faces.

  “What happened here?”

  Andolf bent down and his spirits traced over one of the bodies. “They were betrayed…by Queen Sotol.”

  “They’re still warm. This just barely happened.”

  A weak stirring at the base of an altar caught their attention. A withered man lifted up his bloody hand, searching for a handhold.

  Mandi’s mouth dropped open. “Dev’in!”

  She ran over, worriedly taking his hand and checking his wounds.

  He looked up at her with old, faded eyes. “Mariss? Mariss, is that you?”

  “No, father, it’s me, Mandi.”

  His face pinched, trying to remember. “Mandi?...Mandi? Do I know a Mandi?”

  Her lip trembled. “Yes, you do. I’m your daughter.”

  He looked at her oddly. “You have her eyes. Mariss’ eyes. I miss her…I miss her so much.”

  She squeezed his hand and looked up at the bones lying atop the altar. “I know you do.”

  “I…did things, horrible things, because Valpurgeiss promised me he’d bring Mariss back for me. I loved her…with all my heart. When she died, everything that was good inside me died as well.”

  “I know, father.”

  “When they took her from me, I vowed revenge. Revenge against the usurpers. I killed millions of them…I was so angry…”

  His hand went limp. “I just wanted to hold her…one more time.”

  His eyes closed and his breathing ceased. Mandi took his hand and placed it atop the skeletal hand of Mariss, and then dropped her face and wept.

  * * *

  The people of Ronesia watched as their beautiful aqueducts fell down into the raging waters below. Chunk after chunk, their island was breaking away and falling down into oblivion. The seas cackled, shivering with joy as they reached out, tearing away piece after piece, desperately tearing into the mountains covered with people.

  The elderly cobbler drew his family in close, pressing their cheeks against his. They could not hold back the tears. As he ran his fingers through the girl’s red hair, he lifted her chin, and looked tenderly on her round ears.

  The cobbler’s cheetah spot glowed dimly. “I want you to know, that even though you are not my kin, I have long thought of you as my daughter.”

  She looked at him gently. “And I, you, my father.”

  The little family held each other tightly, the ground trembling and shifting beneath them.

  As the seas drew near, the people of Ronesia screamed in terror.

  * * *

  Everyone was quiet as they made their way deeper into the temple. Energy seemed to draw in everywhere, sliding along the channels in the walls, pulling in deeper, always deeper, like a whirlpool of spiritual energy from which nothing escaped. Privet could see fresh claw marks on the walls. Deep gouges in hardened stone, fresh splatters of blood and smoldering craters. Just the thought that Queen Sotol had killed off so many Kabal members by herself was daunting, to say the least. In his heart, he wondered if he could really best her.

  Bunni Bubbles skipped ahead, checking each new bend and corridor for traps, singing softly to herself. Talliun helped Mandi stay on her feet, her head hung low as she walked.

  “There is something I’d like to know, Andolf,” Privet began, hesitant to ask. “If I die before we free Veritus, what happens to me?”

  Andolf lowered his eyes. “Do you want the truth, or would you prefer I lie to you?”

  Privet looked at him harshly. “Do you really need to ask? I want the truth.”

  Andolf took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “All right. This is the truth: When a woman of Wysteria dies, her soul returns to become part of Milia again, until it is reborn into a new body in the next cycle of the seasons.”

  Andolf opened his eyes. “But, right now the men of Wysteria have no connection with any god. When you die, your soul will simply dissipate and be forever lost.”

  Athel was horrified to hear it.

  Privet closed his eyes. “That is so typical. I swear, this world is so bitterly unfair, I can’t stand it sometimes.”

  He looked back over his shoulder. “Athel, if you ever see Milia again, do me a favor and punch her in the face for me.”

  Athel looked at him worriedly. “Let’s just make sure you survive, then you can do it yourself.”

  Andolf looked Privet over. “You mean to fight anyway, then?”

  Privet tightened his grip on his sword, his eyes growing focused. “I do.”

  Andolf looked on him with great esteem. “I have not seen courage like this. No, not in all the islands I have visited in my long life.”

  “You misunderstand. This is not courage. I’ve never been more scared in my life…”

  He looked over at Athel. “…but I love my family more.”

  Athel could not recall ever loving him more than she did in that moment.

  Andolf put his hand on Privet’s shoulder. “My son, don’t you know? That’s what courage means.”

  “My Queen, I feel I owe you an apology,” Talliun said, watching the veins of energy surge stronger as they moved deeper underground. “If it wasn’t for the information you retrieved from Dahlia Buckthorn, we would all have died the second we set foot in this place. We never would have had a chance.”

  Athel shook her head sadly. “You owe me no apology, Talliun. You were right to object. The truth is, I was wrong.”

  “My Queen?”

  Athel placed her hand over her scar. “I thought that nothing I could do could ever make me feel worse than I already did.”

  She looked up mournfully. “I was wrong.”

  “We’re here,” Mandi announced grimly.

  They stopped and looked up at the enormous brass doors, etched with the symbol of the water tribe, rotten with patina.

  They threw their weight into the door, and it swung op
en.

  * * *

  The skies above Stretis were a swarm of panic. Airships of every shape and description, military frigates, cargo haulers, tugboats, even luxury yachts. Everything that could fly had been conscripted, loading up as many civilians as they could carry. People thronged at the docks, pushing and shoving, shouting and threatening, carrying their children and suitcases stuffed with as many worldly possessions as could be crammed inside.

  Duke Leitai and the other nobles did they best they could to keep the situation from becoming a complete riot. The luggage was thrown aside to make room for more people, often leading to violence. But there wasn’t time to argue. Everyone had to be evacuated from the capital and taken to the north. A shadow loomed over them, a wall of death that could come crashing down at any moment. All around the capital, a swelling wave of seawater pushed inwards, squealing in hunger, held back only by the powerful winds of the remaining Stormcallers.

  Duke Leitai looked over his shoulder, and realized the wave was drawing closer. One by one, the Stormcallers began to collapse in exhaustion.

  * * *

  Privet and the others stepped into the vast chamber. The entire room was pulsing with evil. They could taste it in the air. It made their spirits shudder just to be there. It was like the inside of an enormous black heart; the walls flexed as if they were alive, lined with malicious glowing green veins. At the center was the emaciated form of JaArian, the god of all waters. His raw knees upon the ground, his head hung low, his damp hair dripping limply to the floor. His arms were pulled outwards, bound by mighty chains that burned white hot, linking him to the walls on either side.

  More chains existed behind him, crisscrossing a corridor that lead to a chamber beyond. In this smaller distant chamber, almost completely hidden from view by the thousands of links that sealed it off, was the shackled form of Veritus, god of fall and winter.

  All the veins led to one spot, a dark, pulsating throne, where Queen Sotol sat licking her wounds. She stood up when she saw them, a look of shock on her face.

  “You…it’s you! You’re the one who turned the Stonemasters against me.”