Isle of Wysteria: Throne of Chains

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  The monster shrieked in horror, lashing out for anything as it reached the edge, the staggering height making it reel, but its arms were held fast from within.

  “Wait! Wait! If I die, you die as well. Spirea, think about what you are doing. You wouldn’t kill yourself just to spite me?”

  Spirea snarled. “Wouldn’t I? You’ve cursed our family for hundreds of years, and yet you still underestimate our strength. The strength of a Sotol woman!”

  Screaming, the beast was flung off the edge, its body falling like a speck along the impossibly high walls of the tower, a writhing, shifting, mewling mass of flesh plummeting towards the city below.

  Spirea felt her strength waning. With the last of her soul, she reached out and pulled in every limb tightly around her so it could not sprout wings or grab at the walls.

  As her spirit faded, Spirea looked up at the darkening skies one last time.

  “Alder…Tigera…I do this for you. And yes, I even do this for you, Athel Forsythia.”

  The beast slammed into the ground at frightening speed. Its body came apart, splattering into a mess of black boiling oil.

  Above, the dark tower continued to pulsate, stronger and stronger with each passing moment. The rift in the skies became a black portal, and a curtain of shadow fell over the entire island.

  * * *

  Athel hadn’t slept once since they left Wysteria. Traveling by sea was so different than by air. The waves lapped, punching against the sides of the ship, at times so high they crashed across the bow. Fighting against a lifetime of fearing the waters, it caused the crew great anxiety every time the seas sprayed against them.

  The weather was growing inexplicably colder. There was ice in the air, ice on the sails. The spray froze against everything it touched, leaving a glassy layer behind. At times it grew so thick and so fast the crew had to climb over the sides, picking and chipping away at it with whatever tools they had at their disposal. When she had the strength, Deutzia would flex the hull, breaking the ice free, but she rarely did. The cold water and the cold winds robbed her of her vitality, making her weak and sluggish, and although she bravely refused to complain, Athel could feel the wear it put on her. Chunks of ice floated listlessly among the cresting waters, at times forming together into packs that had to be circumnavigated or plowed through. The constant pounding of the ice shredded the living wood.

  Lacking winter gear, the crew wrapped themselves in whatever they could. Constantly sopping wet and thrown about by the rough waters, they sluggishly went about their shifts. Time below decks offered little comfort, as icy waters dripped down through every seam and opening whenever they were hit by a particularly vindictive wave. Unable to safely light a fire for fear of injuring Deutzia, they made do with produce that, due to being repeatedly frozen then thawed, had been reduced to a disgusting wet slurry.

  Athel sat with Ash, having cobbled together a relatively dry corner by angling what remained of the bunk planks into a makeshift lean-to.

  Athel watched him as he sat and played on his favorite blanket, happily cooing and teaching himself to crawl. It had been the one Alder had always used when he played with Ash.

  Athel gripped the corner of the fabric. Already Alder’s scent was beginning to disappear. Already the tiny traces that remained were vanishing around her, and she grieved the loss of each of them. Soon, she felt like there would be no evidence that Alder had ever existed, and it pained her anew.

  Ash put out his hand, and she patted his palm. He giggled happily, and put his hand out again. It had no name, but this was one of his favorite games.

  “You know, I envy you so very much,” she said sadly as she played with him. “You’re still so young, you don’t really understand what has happened. You still believe that your father will be coming back soon. You are shielded, protected from the cruelty of it all. I look at you, and I am forced to face the fact that there was a time, long ago, when I was young like you are, and it pains me twice. Once, because I realize what I have lost, and again, because I know that one day, you’ll ask me when your father is coming back, and I’ll have to be the one to tell you that he never will. And I’ll have to watch that beautiful innocence die in your eyes. Because I’m the one who killed him, and you’ll hate me for it.”

  Despite his squirming, she picked him up and snuggled him close.

  “I wish I could make it, so you could stay like this forever. I wish you never have to grow up.”

  Heavy bootsteps approached and the door opened. It was on her blind side, so she could not see who it was.

  “We’re here, Athel,” Privet said. “It’s time.”

  What remained of Athel’s limp hair caught in the breeze as she stepped out on the deck. Even the most seasoned sailors gasped at what they saw. From horizon to horizon, the sky was red like blood. The sun a dark, lightless orb in the heavens. The moon was eclipsing as well, the red light giving way to utter blackness.

  Before them, a barrier of black fire surrounded the island of Madaringa, dark clouds swirling above in a hateful maelstrom of black lightning and fire like a great eye. The very air seemed to be sucked from their lungs, and there was a horrible sickly pull, as if all of creation were being drawn in to be consumed.

  It was cold, unbelievably cold. A cold that affected the spirit as well as the body. Athel was quick to wrap up Ash in a sling, nestling him against her beneath her clothes and coat.

  Around the island, countless numbers of warships of every shape and design floated in the waters, so numerous one could hardly see the seas between them. They fired into the barrier, volley upon volley, the sound so unimaginably loud it made one’s very frame shiver from the power of it.

  “Wha…what is this?” Athel asked, looking out at the gathered warships.

  “It’s the people,” Privet realized. “The people of Aetria have risen up!”

  Medical ships from Advan let slip their trebuchets, the glass projectiles striking the barrier and releasing clouds of sparkling energy that drained the field. The Ironclads of Ferrus roared with their oversized cannon, the half-ton balls of white-hot iron smacking into the darkness. The stone ships of Boeth launched their quarry stones; the dragon ships of Iber released impossibly huge streams of fire. Even from this distance, Athel could feel the heat on her cheeks. Deutzia trembled at the memory of fire.

  The darkness lashed back, carving deep channels in the waters, striking ships and shredding them to splinters, as if they were nothing more than sand scattered by giant, swatting hands. But still, on the attackers came.

  The ice ships of Mesda launched daggers of ice, each as long as house, a blizzard of icy shards striking the barrier. The windjammers of Artice retaliated with concussive blasts of sound, splitting the waters before them, but the barrier held.

  The storm above rained down black lightning, snapping Tomani ships in two, punching Ieaan catamarans straight down into the waters, creating craters in the seas that snapped straight shut again.

  Even the golden airship of Stretis were there: The Seawolf, her Agnita Kaito creating powerful channels of wind to bring in fresh ships to plug the gaps, her own cannon adding to the choir. From every direction, sea currents brought in fresh ships.

  The people of Hoeun sent in flocks of great eagles, diving quick to avoid the storm, then releasing carried bundles of explosives before curving away. The sorcerers of Hazari lit of the skies with their lightning, the very air buzzing with energy as it struck the barrier. The cannons of Iso sang alongside the warbows of Cocimbas, and the beams of sunlight from Tirrak. The archers of Paxillus and the longbowmen of Diaden released fleets of arrows into the air. Everywhere, the field of evil strained under the barrage.

  “Keep it up!” a thousand captains yelled in a thousand dialects. “Don’t let it recover! Drain its power!”

  The library ships of Timmeron fired their guns; the people of Erritas launche
d their rockets. The weapons of Schillotaum hummed, the attacks of Whilinham sung. Mertrionites cantillated, Sutorians chanted, Kirdishinians trilled, and Maliaoians intoned.

  It was as if every voice is Aetria cried out as one great choir. A defiant song ringing out clear against the storm of evil before them.

  The clouds shifted as the barrier weakened, the darkness gathering together above the top of the Ascension Tower. There, it gathered together into a pair of hateful eyes. The fighting died down as everyone looked upon it. Just seeing it seemed to drain one’s will to fight. Hardened men backed away, their grip on their weapons loosening.

  The voice that came rattled all of creation. Men and women covered their ears, screaming.

  “What do you want?” Valpurgeiss asked hatefully.

  The people looked at each other, as if they weren’t certain what to say.

  The bolder among them stepped forward, streaming in their native tongues. Their voices all welded together into an indiscernible rabble as one ship slipped forward of the others. It was Kaltun, the royal vessel of the StoneMasters. Athel watched as King Koriar stepped up to the prow, his back straight, his eyes unflinching as he looked into the darkness he had served his whole life.

  “Valpurgeiss!” he shouted, his voice rising up over the others. “We, the people of Aetria have but one demand.”

  The eyes narrowed. “Which is?”

  Tears rolled down the short monarch’s face. “We want to live!”

  The darkness chuckled.

  Koriar was undaunted. “What is your response?”

  The darkness stirred, hissing out a single, unmistakable word:

  “DIE!”

  A beam of black fire struck out, hitting the Kaltun and reducing it to ash, along with everyone aboard.

  The people of Aetria screamed as one, their rage overpowering their fear. They redoubled their efforts. Kirdish threadweavers spitting out explosive strands, flocks of Maliaoan warriors opening their wings, releasing torrents of razor-sharp feathers, the fresh-water submersibles of Chidd firing clockwork torpedoes through the waters.

  “Come on lads,” Captain Evere shouted as he spun the wheel, “man those guns and keep a fast pace, I want to see those barrels glow red hot!”

  The Dreadnaught lurched forward, Deutzia shimmering a battle cry as Margaret summoned a good strong wind to fill her sails. The crew fired, adding their guns to the symphony around them.

  A Chidd warship exploded next to them as a bolt of black fire rained down on her from above, but Captain Evere cackled with jubilation, swinging his saber over his head as his ship fired again and again.

  Mina could not help but smile at her husband.

  There was a light to the east, parting the darkness. Milia and Veritus led the way, flying hand-in hand. They were followed by a phalanx of deities. The people cheered in jubilation as their gigantic glowing forms took position over the ships below. People fell to their knees, weeping in prayers of joy.

  Chert leaned over a cluster of vessels from Huttsak, shielding them with his mighty hands as black fire tore into his flesh. Jabint stood before the beam of darkness as it carved through the Ronesian ships, deflecting it away as his icy quills curled and melted from the heat. Maltua reached down with his great hammer, plucking up a trio of Senndaisian destroyers, saving them from destruction as a whip of darkness hit the seas where they had been only a moment before.

  “It’s the gods,” Andolf shouted. “The gods have joined the fight on our side!”

  Odesi’s blue skin flashed white, and he hit the barrier with a beam of celestial brilliance. Quetah joined in with his fire, his blazing mane shining brighter than the eclipsing sun. Maa’aat released a prismatic beam from each of her six arms. Vestum’s body rippled like water and he punched his fist forward, a beam of energy smashing into the darkness.

  Everywhere the ships and gods advanced, smashing into the black void from all sides. The hateful eyes roared in anger as the darkness buckled before the light. Valpurgeiss lashed out, a wave of dark fume pulsing outwards. The Goddesses Ikkchit and Celina braced themselves before a formation of Kwi sloops, protecting them from the blast with their own bodies.

  In the red skies above, the light of the moon diminished as it eclipsed.

  The god Awhano fired a beam from his third eye. The goddess Semas’ swirling body of mist and lightning spun tighter, and she released a beam into the face of Valpurgeiss, driving him back as her holy fire blazed into him.

  Black fire fell down on a group of Baakuu junks, but the god Rendas leapt atop them, the flames biting deep into his body and setting his beard alight.

  Everywhere, the cheers of the peoples of Aetria mingled with the roar of battle. Illiamites and Nayzerians fought alongside the god Kohta and Odansire.

  As the barrier cracked under the relentless onslaught, the moon above went completely dark, and all of creation was bathed in an eerie amber twilight.

  At the base of the tower, the oily black fluid slowly pulled itself back together, taking on mass, bulking itself up, drawing strength from the eerie green channels running through the tower.

  Silver eyes opened from within the puddle, and looked up at the tower.

  With the moon and sun eclipsed, the top of the tower folded open, blossoming like a black rose.

  A powerful beam struck out into the heavens through one of the deep channels carved into the tower. It passed through the barrier and reached up into the sky, latching onto the constellation of Semas.

  A second beam struck out, then a third, then a fourth. One by one, the tower latched onto the holy constellations, drawing in their power into the center of the pedal.

  The puddle of tar cackled. “You failed! You failed, Spirea! You were a fool to try and kill me! You can’t kill me, for I am the god of this world. Now, watch me, as I ascend into immortality!”

  Outside the barrier, the peoples of Aetria looked on in terror as their gods fell one by one. They screamed in agony, thrashing about, churning up the seas with their death knells. Ships fought to get away, but the crowding left them little room to maneuver, and many ships were turned over by the spasms and contortions of their dying gods.

  The gods began to disintegrate, their immortal bodies flaking away into ash and rising up. The air filled up with slowly spinning bits of cinder. The ships and cannons, even the waters themselves, everything began disintegrating before the might of the Night of Rebirth.

  In the air, the ghastly form of Valpurgeiss cackled menacingly, relishing in the death, savoring the destruction. He breathed out vile curses in ancient tongues, hollering in his otherworldly voice as he avenged himself at long last.

  A final beam rose up out of the tower and latched onto Valpurgeiss himself. His hateful eyes filled with shock, realizing too late that he had been betrayed. His stormy form fought and surged, then began to disintegrate like the others.

  Privet put his hand on Margaret. “Get us going as fast as you can. Straight towards it.”

  “Got it.”

  Athel looked up at Deutzia. “Hold firm.”

  Deutzia sparkled in the affirmative.

  Tigera looked around. “Wait, what are we doing?”

  Captain Evere gripped the wheel tightly and licked his lips.

  Privet drew Covenant Breaker. “We’re breaking through.”

  As the world came apart, the Dreadnaught surged forwards, slipping through a formation of Derets frigates.

  The Goddess Zelica came crashing down into the water in agony, her long ears flapping down and slapping into the bow of a Taldives Dhow, snapping the rigging and flipping the crew up into the air.

  The Dreadnaught turned hard, taking the wave dead on, the water crashing over her bow and soaking her crew.

  Sponatrion began to fall, clutching his head as his body disintegrated. His shadow loomed above the Dreadnaught as
came down, the light of his body flickering out.

  The Dreadnaught jinked hard to starboard as his gigantic knees came crashing down, barely missing her as they slammed into the water. Then his hips and torso smashed down, one after the other, the little ship slipping free just in time before his head and arms pummeled the water behind her.

  The wave picked up the ship, nearly flipping her over as it swelled from behind. Evere fought the wheel; the crew held on for dear life. Margaret, pushing the limits of her abilities, filled the sails nearly to bursting, and the ship rode the wave, surging past a trio of Erritas junks and rocketing towards the barrier.

  The other ships joined in, focusing their fire at a single point in the curtain of evil. Bomb, missile, cannon, rocket, and bolt all slammed into the barrier, heating the darkness to white hot. Like the tip of a spear, the Dreadnaught zoomed towards that point.

  Privet climbed to the tip of the bowsprit, holding his sword before him.

  “In the name of the people of Aetria, by the power of all free peoples…”

  Covenant Breaker began to glow with shimmering opal light, black energy coiling around it.

  “…by the authority of all those who cry out for mercy, YOU WILL GIVE WAY!”

  Privet slashed Covenant Breaker as the Dreadnaught slammed into the barrier. A blade of prismatic energy sliced out, severing the darkness. The barrier shuddered and squealed as it was torn apart, and the Dreadnaught passed through.

  At the base of the tower, the beast formed a ruined and trembling hand, pulling itself upright on half-formed legs of tar. Above, the energies gathered, forming a sphere of light at the center of the blossom.

  There was an explosion in the distance, and the creature looked on as the crew of the Dreadnaught disembarked.

  “No…”

  Privet ran up, pointing when he spotted it. “There she is, don’t let her ascend the tower!”

  The beast clenched its clawed fist. “No, you will not stop me from claiming what is mine!”