“Right away.”
As Ellie sorted her winnings, she caught Ryin staring at her.
“What?”
“You just told her your name was Melissa.”
“Well, yeah, that’s my name.”
“It is?”
“Yeah, didn’t you know? Ellie is just a nickname Poe gave me. He said he liked the sound of it better.”
She looked over at Ryin. “Why, is something wrong?”
Ryin shook his head. “No, no everything is just fine. Hey, uh…when we’re done here, you wanna’ go get something to eat? Just the two of us?”
“What? Like a date?”
Ryin shifted in his seat. “Well…yeah… like a date.”
Ellie chuckled. “I was kidding, Ryin.”
Ryin blushed with embarrassment. “Oh, well…”
Ellie realized he was serious. “No, no, it’s okay. You know what? That could be fun.”
“Really?”
Ellie thought about it, then smiled sincerely. “Yeah, really. Let’s do it.”
Ryin perked up. “Neat. I’ll take you to this really fancy restaurant I know in Oldbrook. They have the best fruit baskets there.”
“Fruit baskets?”
“Oh yeah, always go for the fruit baskets and the bread sticks. I have it on royal advice, you know?”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“Hey, are you two lovebirds gonna play or argue?” Hanner groused.
“Maybe we’ll do both,” Ellie teased, sticking out her tongue.
As Ryin dealt the cards, he threw a glance over at Ellie. When she blushed deeply and smiled at him, he could not help but smile back.
* * *
Athel sat quietly, her crown and her staff resting in her lap. She looked at them as if they were vipers. It had been so long since she had linked with the forest. She knew she should have done so weeks ago, but no one had brought it up with her, out of respect of what she had been through.
Athel touched the crown, and her scar burned over her heart. When she set it down on her head, it felt like the heaviest thing she had ever worn. Athel looked down at the carvings of the staff. She imagined Alder’s frail little hands carving them, polishing them, and the tears came back. The closer her fingers came, the more it felt like a hot iron. Finally she closed her eyes and grabbed the wood, ready to begin the long process of forming the song of the forest yet again.
Suddenly, she found herself standing in a sea of light, as if swimming through the night sky. It was so different from anything she had ever experienced before, her first instinct was to worry that something had gone wrong.
But there, nearby, was a star she knew. Deutzia twinkled brightly, and greeted her. Their hearts touched without effort, and they communed with one another. It took her a moment to realize that this was not something new. This was the link of their forest, it was just healed now from the shadow it had been.
Athel was amazed. In the past, heart-sharing required a ton of effort and focus, but here it happened automatically. When Deutzia finally quieted down, Athel heard something that surprised her even further. There was a song, a rhythm to the hearts here, yet there was no one person directing it all. The song of the forest existed spontaneously. The steady, reliable hearts of the men created a beat that smoothed out the extremes of the women, and the passionate tempo of the women enriched and focused the hearts of the men to keep them from drifting. Rather than compete with one another, they perfectly complimented each other, the old song felt like a dwindling candle compared to the bonfire that blazed here. This song of the forest existed naturally, without the monumental effort it had taken to create it before. It had a simple beauty to it, an undemanding elegance that flowed everywhere, as naturally and effortlessly as waters.
It was the sound of family. It was the sound of love.
For a long time Athel simply stood basking in it. She had resigned herself to drinking in the pain of every person on the island, but now there seemed no need for that. It still existed, but was shared between couples. They bolstered each other, reinforced one another, and it dissipated almost as quickly as it sprung up. When a spot swelled up that was too much for one couple, the others nearby would draw in close, and they would share the weight between them.
Athel swam through the sea of stars, communing with each person she met. Iris Bursage was there with Akar, and they both thanked her profoundly. Hollis was there with Orlaya Oleander, and they wrapped their spirits around her and gave her a special hug.
It took Athel’s breath away. This is what the link was always meant to be, this was the full expression of all the seasons as one, a timeless place of family and gratitude. An eternal cycle of sharing and caring, without beginning and without end. And yet, in this sea of benevolence, something was missing. Like oil in water, something inside of her just didn’t mesh, didn’t feel right. It took her a moment to realize that being here by herself was making her feel lonely.
“Athel, over here.”
She knew who it was without even turning. Privet’s soul tugged at her own, drawing them together. As she moved towards him, she felt the rightness of it swell within her.
Their two stars collided, swirling and mixing together, memories and thoughts, form and feeling all interweaving until she completely lost her sense of who she was. For a moment, there was no him and there was no her, there was only us. As their light slowly sifted back into two beings, Athel found herself relaxing in a warm pool, like a spring of light amid the stars.
“What is this?” she asked, too comfortable to sit up,
“You like it? I made it for us.”
“How is this possible?”
It was so quiet and peaceful now. She was still definitely in the link, but here it felt private, the voices and hearts of the others flowing around the pool like a current instead of entering it.
“It’s like a knot,” Privet explained. “It’s a special place within the link just for the two of us. With this, we can be together no matter how far apart our bodies are.”
“You really did this?”
“I’m teaching some of the other couples how to make their own.”
“Amazing.”
“Well, I am a co-ruler of the forest, after all.”
Athel wrapped her spirit around him, and they cuddled again.
“Yes, you are.”
In her youth, she would have balked at the idea of sharing the throne with her husband. Now, it felt so right, she couldn’t imagine it being any other way.
Privet wrapped his soul around her, and they embraced in a way only a husband and wife of Wysteria could.
Remembering something, Privet sat up. “Oh, I almost forgot, it’s time for me to take over for Ash. We’ll talk more later.”
“All right.”
Athel watched as he faded away from her view. It was amazing how quickly he was learning. It had taken her years to learn skills in Treesinging he had mastered in days. Now, he was innovating completely new ways to use the link. She realized that he might be more talented than she was, but decided it would be better not to let him know right away. She didn’t want him to let it go to his head.
Athel leaned back in their pool and closed her eyes. In her youth, she had avoided the link. During her reign, she had suffered in it. Now, for the first time in her life, she allowed herself to simply relax here.
She felt herself drifting down, sinking through the layers that made up the heart of the forest. She drifted past shared memories of the living. The great games of thirty-two, the second battle of Wysteria. That one discomforted her, and she turned away from it.
She allowed herself to drift down deeper, deeper than she normally cared to go. Here, there existed the memories of those who had passed. Fragmented images, longings and dreams. When she saw the tidal wave of s
eawater coming right at her, she pulled in tight, growing afraid.
Now she sank deeper than she ever had before. She settled to the seafloor of the link, surrounded by the bones of subconscious thought. Here lay the primal fears. Death, loneliness, and pain. The things that drive the mind to action, the things that produce thought and goals.
Specters of her own pain swirled about her. Alder’s death seemed to be everywhere. She tried to look away, but it existed on all sides. Even when she shut her eyes tightly, his death existed, as if in the inside of her eyelids.
“Athel, why didn’t you try to save me?” his voice seemed to call out, and her heart recoiled.
“I wanted to save you! I wanted to save you more than anything!”
“You saved the people who hated you, but you took my life, why?”
“I didn’t want to,” Athel sobbed. “I DIDN’T WANT TO!!!!”
“You never really loved me, did you?”
Athel screamed in horror, her scar tearing wider and wider, threatening to pull her entire soul apart.
“NO! I did love you. I SWEAR I DID!”
As her soul came apart, she sank into the sand itself, becoming one with the echoes of those long past.
“Please forgive me, Alder…”
“Please forgive me.”
“I wasn’t strong enough to save you.”
Athel curled up in a ball and wept. Slowly, she filtered through the sand and came out the other side. The world flipped, and the ceiling she had passed through became the floor. She lay there alone for hours in the dark, crying to the void, pleading for Alder to return to her, but no one answered.
Finally, she heard footsteps approaching. She looked up, and saw a young woman running towards her. Her gait was energetic, her strides long and confident. She had her long tasseled red hair bound up loosely in a ponytail.
As she drew near, Athel recognized the young woman. It was her.
The young woman ran up and took her hands, her bright brown eyes gleaming with esteem.
“Athi, you fell in love,” she gushed. “I’ve always dreamed about falling in love. My books make it sound so wonderful. And he loved you back, he loved you back with all he had. Don’t you see? That’s wonderful! Some people go their whole lives without ever feeling that way even once. You are so blessed. So why are you crying?”
Athel opened her mouth, but had not the heart to answer.
The young woman released her hands and stepped back. Athel wiped her tears as best she could, and saw another woman approaching. She was tall and regal, her poise flawless, her steely hazel eyes a perfect picture of benevolent wisdom. Her red hair was braided beneath her crown. She stepped up and gave a flawless royal bow.
“Lady Forsythia,” she intoned, “you will live a long time. Hundreds of years, in fact. You’re barely in your twenties. Compared to the span of your days, these last few years are but a small part of all you will experience. Rejoice in what you have seen and done. Many people go their whole lives without ever really making a difference. And you, you have made such a difference to so many people. You became a true hero. You saved the world. There is so much for you to be proud of. So why are you crying?”
Another Athel approached. This one had grey eyes. “Athel, you now live in a time of peace, a golden age of prosperity. An age without war, an age where people no longer cower in fear of the gods, but look hopefully to their coming. An age where all peoples are working together at long last. You have so much to be grateful for, so why are you crying?”
One last woman approached. Her face was scarred, one eye dark, the other white with blindness. “Athel, the forest has forgiven you of your sins. You do not have to fear judgement or punishment for your crimes. No unclean hand seeks your death any longer. No vengeful foe plots your demise. You are finally free of your mistakes, and your failures, so why are you crying?”
Athel gasped, her tears falling free. “It’s true, the time Alder and I had together was short. It was only for a moment, barely a heartbeat really, in the history of the forest. But for that moment, there was no him, and there was no me. There was only us. And when that moment was over, I realized how truly painful it can be to be just me.”
She wiped her face. “But I am not always just me. There are other moments, other times when I become an us. Like when I am with Privet.
She sniffed. “But it will never be that us, and that is why I cry.”
The young woman with brown eyes skipped up and gave her a hug. “You have been me. I am now only a memory. Please don’t forget all the things I wanted to do, all the places I wanted to see, all the things I wanted to try. I have many dreams that are yet unfulfilled. Don’t let them stay that way.”
Slowly, she faded away.
The young queen with hazel eyes gave a courtly bow. “You have been me. I now live only in the hearts of those I touched. Don’t forget all I accomplished. Be grateful for what I built. I have so many goals left to achieve. Please don’t leave them undone.”
Slowly, she too, faded away.
The woman with grey eyes turned away. “You have been me. I now exist only as a season when you had lost all hope. Remember what it felt like. Use that memory to help others who have lost their hope. Let it move you to compassion and understanding, so that you may be able to help them find their way again. Don’t let regret and despair bring you to this place again, for you know, there is nothing there for you.”
She walked away, fading as she went.
The final woman looked her over. “You have been me. I now exist only as the regret you carry for your mistakes and sins. Recall what it felt like to be lost, to be so completely desperate. Remember what it felt like, to be utterly condemned. Use that to temper your judgments of others, to help you understand them. Use the experience to lead you down paths of wisdom and justice.”
The woman closed her eyes, and vanished.
Athel looked around, feeling scared.
“But…If I am no longer you, and no longer her, or any of you, then who am I?”
“Only you can answer that.”
* * *
Spirea and Tigera sat together atop one of Sumac’s wide strong branches. She shimmered happily as they looked out at the lush fields of flowers. Spirea rubbed her thumb against the inside of the ring she wore on her finger. Wysterians didn’t have a tradition for wedding bands, but she found she really liked the feel of the one he had carved for her. It was a constant subtle reminder of the bond they shared, and it made her feel something she never hoped to feel, never dared to believe would happen.
She felt loved.
As if sensing her thoughts, Tigera placed a delicate kiss on her neck, eliciting a satisfied humm from her. She ran her hand over her swelling belly, and he placed a hand there too, hoping to feel a kick from the baby growing inside.
Sumac sparkled happily and they looked down at their visitor. Athel looked up uneasily, and Spirea looked back at her with equal discomfort.
“I, ah…I should probably leave you two alone,” Tigera excused himself politely. He stepped out onto Sumac’s awaiting branch and was lowered to the ground.
“I’ll go have some lunch; hopefully it won’t be laced with any Cruisao seeds.”
Athel ignored the obvious dig as he walked off, and stepped onto the branch to be lifted up. When she reached Spirea’s level, she found her squirming nervously.
Athel sat down beside her with a little grunt, her own belly beginning to show.
For some time, they sat there in uneasy silence. Spirea looked at her hands, worried she might be caught staring at Athel’s scars and eye.
“So,” Athel began, startling Spirea. “How does it feel to have a body again?”
Spirea burped. “To be honest, I have morning sickness.”
“I know what you mean. It’s so much easier when Deutzia carries ‘em.�
�
They both chuckled uneasily.
Spirea looked down at her belly. “She’ll be the first girl born from the womb in a thousand years.”
“Have you picked out a name yet?”
Spirea blushed in embarrassment. “Um, yes…”
“Well, what is it?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Why not? I promise I won’t make fun.”
“It’s…it’s not that I think you’ll make fun.”
“Well, tell me then.”
Spirea looked down, tapping her fingertips together. “I was thinking about calling her Athel.”
Athel stared at her in surprise. “Are you sure you wanna do that? I’ve done a lot of things she might not want to be associated with.”
“Oh, and I haven’t?” Spirea blurted out, regretting it as soon as she said it.
They both became uncomfortable.
“It’s going to be weird,” Athel said, trying to chance the subject. “Boys are being born from the trees along with girls, girls and boys are being born from the womb. Everything is so different already.”
“Do you know who the father is?”
Athel placed her hand on her belly tenderly. “It’s Alder’s. I can feel it.”
Athel looked up, trying not to cry. “She was his last gift to me.”
Spirea looked sad, fighting back her own tears. “I loved him too, in a way.”
“I know you did.”
Spirea ran her hand over her round belly. “I worry sometimes. Will our daughters lack magic, being born from the womb?”
“Oh no, they will most definitely be treesingers.”
Athel closed her eyes and concentrated. “I can feel her powers developing already. Just reach out and touch it, it’s right there inside of you. Here, take my hand, I’ll teach you how.”
Spirea closed her eyes worriedly and took her hand. Copying Athel, she pulled her powers inwards, folding them around her child like a blanket. When she felt the baby respond with her own power, Spirea’s expression relaxed. When the two mixed, she gasped audibly. “Oh, wow, it’s like we’re linking but without a tree. A little link between me and her.”
Isle of Wysteria: Throne of Chains Page 46