Isle of Wysteria: Throne of Chains

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  It was the bond of shared loss.

  They both wept, and their sprits touched. Ash didn’t understand, and she had no answers. Ash was in pain, and she had no balm to give him. There was nothing that could be done, nothing that would heal or cure. All they could do was cling to one another.

  “Because I have people who need me.”

  She gave Ash a little kiss on the head. “I promise, Ash. I’ll be a real mother to you. I swear it.”

  She wiped the tears from her face. “I won’t do as good a job as Alder did, or as your spirit parents did, but I will try.”

  Evere looked at Mina, who nodded. “All right, lass. Just one spell.”

  Evere made a spot for Athel on his bed by shoving the toys out of the way. Athel lay down with a grunt of pain, setting Ash on her chest.

  “What memory would you like to dream about?”

  “Take me to when Alder and I first met,” Athel said. “Yeah, that should be right.”

  Evere instructed her to place one hand over her heart, then he placed his over hers. Mina joined in too, even though it wasn’t necessary, and placed her hands on top of his. Ash, wanting to join in, added his little hands to the pile.

  Athel closed her eyes, and Evere began chanting in his native tongue. She didn’t understand the words, but they felt like threads weaving around her, creating a skin-tight layer of energy around her body. It was a little unnerving at first; she felt her limbs held in place as the dream weaved closed around them. She began to panic from being restrained, but forced herself to remain still. As the last of the magic sealed shut before her face, she opened her eyes in panic, but was no longer on the bed.

  She was standing at the docks of the old Navy Recruitment center, clean and new as it used to be, years ago. The spring sun was high in the air, the breeze perfumed with cherry blossoms. Rows of pamphlets lined the shelves. Sappy, mascoted posters in misspelled Wysterian boasted of honor and adventure. She caught a brief glimpse of herself in a mirror. The young woman in the reflection was daunting and beautiful in her armored gown, her sword and pistol at her sides, her staff in one hand, Deutzia in her planting pot in the other. Her red hair was bright, her brown eyes vibrant. She looked so different it startled her for a moment.

  She looked young.

  Athel turned around, and saw the small navy recruitment ship berthed at the end of the branch, floating in the air. Ryin’s uncle Jasin leaning against the rail, waiting to take her away. It took her a moment to figure out where she was in the events that had transpired. The trumpet of the royal family sounded again, and Athel glanced beneath the table. Sure enough, Spirea and Sumac were hiding there, just as had happened the first time.

  “I really am here again,” Athel whispered to herself.

  Newall, the frumpy navy man, waddled up, carrying her paperwork.

  Dozens of palace guards entered the room; the men fully adorned in their functional leather armor, the female captains resplendent in their priceless suits of chain-and-plate mail. Athel caught a glimpse of Captain Tallia among them. It was strange now to see her with both arms.

  Hazel Forsythia carried herself like a queen. She had a regal quality in her posture and expression that was only amplified by the great cape of flowers that draped down behind her as she walked between the two rows of guards.

  Unsure of what to do, Newall bowed his balding head; then, finding that insufficient, came down on one knee, trying to look as dignified as he could.

  The Queen’s gaze flicked down to the sword at Athel’s side. Though she tried to hide it, Athel could tell that the Queen was upset to see her daughter carrying a man’s weapon. Athel felt a little twinge of guilt at intentionally disrespecting her mother.

  The Queen said nothing but walked past Newall and began examining the paperwork he had been filling out. Athel found herself staring. She had never understood the weight her mother carried. The burden of so much pain, taking into herself the fears and anxiety of every woman on the island in order to maintain the song of the forest. She had done it for more than a century, yet she never complained, not even in private. Truly, this was a queen of Wysteria. Athel felt like nothing compared to her. She felt ashamed for her own failures during her reign.

  “Mr. Norsdo…” the Queen began.

  “Norsoto.”

  “Right, please don’t interrupt…”

  “Sorry,” he replied, bowing again awkwardly.

  “You have not indicated my daughter’s royal status on this paperwork. You will need to correct this before she can sign it.”

  Athel was moved. Her mother knew how desperately important it was to keep her daughter safe, how immeasurably imperative it was that an heir be ready in case something were to happen to her. The forest must have a queen. Yet, for all that, she had chosen to honor her daughter’s wishes.

  “You’re going to let me go?” Athel asked, nearly moved to tears.

  “Where do you get this idea that I am some evil tyrant?” Hazel asked, tilting her head slightly. “You are my daughter. I love you.”

  Athel felt her eyes becoming moist. “Yes, you do. I never understood how deeply you do till just now.”

  Athel reached out and embraced her tightly. It surprised the Queen for a moment, and her guards didn’t seem to approve, but instead of resisting the break in decorum, she relaxed and closed her eyes, allowing herself to relish her daughter’s embrace.

  “Enjoy yourself, my dear. I think this will do you a world of good. The experience you gain in the navy will be invaluable to you once you assume the throne.”

  She began to release her, but Athel held her even tighter, enjoying the sensation too much to let it pass. How wonderful it was to be held by her mother again, to feel safe and loved, even if only for a moment. She never wanted it to end.

  “You did all this for me, even after I abdicated the throne,” Athel whispered. “I should have thanked you.”

  “You have abdicated the throne for now, yes,” her mother responded. “Wysteria will need you in your time, just as it needed me in mine.” The Queen leaned in close, speaking barely above a whisper. “Take care of yourself. You know your sister cannot lead us. The women of Wysteria cannot afford to be selfish. We have more enemies than you know.”

  “Yes, I will, you are right, of course, Mother,” Athel agreed.

  This response surprised the Queen. She studied Athel with her deep hazel eyes. “I was expecting you to fight me on this point,” she admitted.

  “It doesn’t matter what I want; it’s what the forest needs.”

  Her mother looked on her approvingly. “Well said, daughter.”

  The Queen stepped back and a pale young man stepped forward, eyes lowered. He was shorter than Athel. He looked frail to her, like a stiff breeze would just knock him over. His large, round eyes gave him a permanently sappy look, like a dog begging for food.

  Athel could barely contain her excitement to see him. It was all she could do to stop herself from hugging him. It took every bit of willpower to remind herself that from Alder’s point of view, he was meeting her for the first time.

  The Queen placed her arm on the young man’s shoulder. “I present to you the eldest son of Lady Aspen Bursage, Alder Bursage, your new husband.”

  “I see.”

  His bow was deep and flawlessly formal. “A pleasure,” Alder said. Hearing his voice again was like a breath of fresh air to her soul.

  Athel’s face softened and she stepped up to him. “The pleasure is all mine. Madam Bursage is a harsh matriarch. If you earned the right to carry her name, you must be exceptional indeed.”

  “My former Matron only did what she believed to be necessary for the smooth and efficient running of a great and noble household.”

  Athel chuckled and raised her hand. “The first thing I want you to learn is that you do not need to sugarcoat your speech a
round me. We Forsythians value truth, even when it is difficult to hear.” She glanced up at her mother, who was beaming. “Isn’t that right, mother?”

  “Well said, my daughter,” she said proudly.

  To the surprise of everyone, Athel bent down on one knee before Alder, so she could look at him face to face.

  “Alder, you will find that Madam Bursage and I are very different people. I doubt she and I would agree on nearly any subject. You may serve me, of course. There are things that have to be done, after all. The Forsythia household is very large. There are meals to be prepared, clothes to launder, books to keep. I have no doubt that your skills are beyond impressive in all those areas, but in my heart, I would prefer that you be not a servant, but a companion and an equal to me.”

  Despite his attempts to maintain decorum, Alder’s downcast eyes were swimming. He tried to hide it, but it was clear to all that he could not believe something so wonderful was happening to him.

  “Is that a condition you can agree to?” Athel asked gently.

  “Y-yes, my Lady,” he said, his voice cracking. “Such a thing…would make me happy beyond measure.” He looked like he dared not breathe, for fear of breaking the spell and finding himself only dreaming.

  Athel presented Deutzia to him. “Shall we make it official, then?”

  Alder hesitated for a moment. His face made his thoughts plain. This was the final test. If her Ma’iltri’ia rejected him, he would never be allowed to marry this amazing person he had just met, this person who was so completely different than everything he had heard rumored about her. This fine, regal woman, who had already showed him more respect and kindness than any ten people ever had in the past.

  The thought of losing her made him afraid. Not two minutes since they had met, and he feared to lose her. But the unwavering confidence in her eyes gave him heart, and he reached out.

  Deutzia wound her tiny branch around his finger and sparkled happily. There was a rush of wind, spring leaves carried in the breeze, and Queen Hazel smiled knowingly.

  “It looks like you and I are to be married,” Athel said happily. “She is quite taken with you, as am I.”

  Alder could not hide how much this pleased him, yet he kept his eyes lowered.

  Athel had trouble controlling her breath. “I know this is slightly against protocol, but if you wouldn’t mind, I would like very much to hug you.”

  He tried to turn away, but something about the sincerity in her face, something about the gentleness with which she tilted up his chin, he forgot himself, and looked back into her eyes.

  “Yes, I would like that too.”

  Athel took him in close and hugged him, not just with her body, but with her very soul. The touch of his hair against her chin; the smell of his shirt, it was all too much for her, and tears began falling free.

  Forgetting all decorum, Alder eased into her neck and returned her embrace. He didn’t understand how she could already mean so much to him. He had just met her, and already in his heart he knew that he was falling in love with her.

  Despite the unorthodoxy, Queen Hazel nodded approvingly.

  “This is how it should have been the first time,” Athel said, tears running down her cheeks.

  “My Lady?”

  “You were right for me, but I wasn’t right for you. You deserved so much better than what I was, but you took me into your heart anyway, and waited patiently until I grew up.”

  Hazel placed her hand on Athel’s shoulder. “Are you all right, daughter?”

  Athel hugged Alder even more tightly. “By the time I became the woman you deserved, you were already gone. There were so many things I wanted to do together. I had so many plans, so many things I wanted to show you, so many places I wanted to go together, so many things I wanted to do with you. I had time, but I didn’t use it. I wasted it away on things that didn’t matter. I just thought...I thought you and I would have a lifetime. Before I knew it, the dream was over, and now all I can say is...I’m sorry.” Her face pinched in grief. “I am so…very…sorry.”

  The dream began to fade around her.

  “No! No just give me a little longer! Please!”

  She squeezed him even more tightly as the illusion vanished. “I LOVE YOU! PLEASE! I LOVE YOU ALDER! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!”

  The illusion vanished completely, and Athel found herself curled up on the bed, holding Ash in her arms.

  As she sobbed, Evere and Mina fell upon her and shed tears of their own.

  “Alder, I’m sorry. Please forgive me...”

  * * *

  The roots of the royal tree glowed brightly above, pulsating as if in a giant heartbeat. The other roots poking in through the walls of the cavern began to join the rhythm. The forest was coming to life again.

  Orlaya Oleander and the remaining priestesses formed a circle around the pair, chanting low, adding their strength to the ceremony.

  The great god Veritus knelt quietly over the floating body of his wife. Light passing from his hands into her body. As he did so, both of them grew brighter, their immortal skin rippling like water as their souls resonated with one another.

  The rhythm of the trees grew stronger and faster, brighter and brighter, until all held still.

  It was as if all the trees held their breath in unison.

  Then, slowly, Milia’s eyes stirred beneath her lids, and slowly, her sad, motherly eyes opened.

  Veritus looked on her, taking her hands gently in his.

  Milia’s mouth came open.

  “Veritus!” she shouted for joy, and sat up to embrace him.

  “Milia, I missed you so much!”

  The trees sparkled in joy. For the first time in a millennia, the two great gods of Wysteria were reunited.

  “I thought I’d never see you again!”

  “I am so happy to see you!”

  So overjoyed were they, that they didn’t even notice when the chamber entrance swung open, and two limping figures entered in.

  Privet propped himself underneath Athel’s arm, and she used him as a crutch as her weak and emaciated body hobbled down the marble stairs into the holy chamber. With her free arm, she carried Ash, who nuzzled into her neck.

  As they drew near, the two gods swelled and rejoiced.

  “Veritus, oh, Veritus, my sweet husband, how is this possible?”

  She kept kissing him over and over so rapidly he had a hard time answering.

  “It was Athel Forsythia. She freed JaArian and myself. She raised Arianis Kultur from the depths of the sea for us!”

  “Amazing!”

  They noticed Athel drawing near, her face sullen and thin, her eyes dead in their sockets.

  Veritus took his wife’s hands and led her towards them. “Here she is, the one who saved me.”

  Milia knelt down before her, gratitude on her lovely face. “Oh, my sweet daughter, thank you so much for…”

  There was a quick harsh sound, the snapping of skin against skin.

  Orlaya and the priestesses recoiled in horror. Milia’s face was thrown to the side, shock in her eyes.

  All were completely silent.

  Athel had slapped her clean across the face.

  “Get out,” Athel snarled.

  Milia looked at her in shock, her cheek growing red.

  “I said, get out!” Athel commanded.

  Milia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What?”

  “Leave this island, and never return.”

  Milia shook her head in disbelief. “But, I created this land, I am mother to...”

  “NO, YOU’RE NOT!”

  Milia was stunned into silence. Athel unhooked her arm from Privet and stepped closer, holding Ash tightly.

  “Maybe you were our mother once, but not anymore. Not after what you’ve done to us.”

 
; “Done to you?”

  “You let us use broken magic for a thousand years without telling us what it was doing! For a THOUSAND years. You never warned us that it was killing our fathers, our brothers…our husbands. You stood by and did nothing while the men of this forest were treated like slaves! What kind of a mother would do that?”

  Athel began crying. “And Alder…even Alder…”

  Athel fell to her knees. “Alder thought you hated him. To his last dying breath! He was the most gentle, selfless soul in the whole world. All he wanted was your love, Milia. That’s all. He worked his whole life...every day in constant pain. He worked himself to death trying to win your affection. He prayed to you, harder than anyone ever has, and you wouldn’t answer him. You wouldn’t give him even a drop of your affection.”

  Athel reached out and grabbed the hem of Milia’s robes.

  “Give him back! Give him back to me! Please!”

  Privet leaned over and held her as best he could.

  Milia looked like her heart would break. She withstood it as Athel gripped her robes harder and harder.

  “Your magic took him from me,” Athel sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “Now give him back to me. Didn’t I do enough? Didn’t I earn this one request? I saved your life, I saved your forest, I saved the whole world. Now save his life in return!”

  Milia looked away.

  Athel beat her fists against Milia’s immortal frame. “I want him back, give him back! You can punish me, torture me, I don’t care, just bring him back to me!”

  Milia withstood her blows. “I’m sorry. There are some things even I cannot do.”

  “WELL, THEN, WHAT GOOD ARE YOU?!” Athel screamed, her voice hoarse. “Why should we pray to you, offer sacrifice to you, honor you, if you give us nothing in return? What’s the point of being a god, if you cannot save the life of one young man?”

  Athel staggered weakly. Privet caught her. Ash stirred in his arms. “You demand our obedience, our sacrifice, our devotion, and you offer us nothing in return. You have no right to call yourself our mother anymore. The forest doesn’t want you. The forest doesn’t need you. Now leave this place and never come back!”