Isle of Wysteria: Make Like a Tree and Leaf

by Aaron Yeager

  Spirea sat down in her chair and tugged absentmindedly at her hair.

  “Don’t tell me you aren’t thirsty,” Jacques taunted as he handed Spirea a fresh goblet.

  Spirea snarled and downed the entire contents in a single powerful draw. “Don’t you underrate me, boy,” she retorted, a little bit of her energy returning, “I may not be my grandmother, but I can still drink any of you men under the table!”

  Spirea’s eyes grew dim and her head slammed down onto the altar, her goblet falling out of her hand. Jacques looked on in amazement as she began snoring embarrassingly loudly. There was another thud behind him, then another. He watched detachedly as each man in the room collapsed to the floor in turn, before his own vision blurred and the floor sped toward him.

  * * *

  A few minutes later Captain Evere, Mina, Hanner, and Dr. Griffin walked into the oath hall. Evere kicked unconscious limbs out of his path, while Mina chose her footing carefully to avoid stepping on anybody.

  Evere stopped over the unconscious form of Jacques, his eyes narrowing to violent slits of black as he looked on the Guild Lord. He drew his saber and held the blade toward Jacques throat.

  “You’re a better man than he is,” Mina reassured as she placed her furry head on his shoulder.

  “Am I?” Evere asked as he added pressure to the blade, puncturing Jacques flesh ever so slightly.

  “Yes, you are,” Mina insisted. “If you weren’t, I never would have left with you, or come back. It’s over now; don’t do something you’ll regret.”

  Evere’s black eyes flickered with hesitation. A small bead of blood formed on Jacques neck where the tip touched. Slowly, Evere withdrew the blade. “Aye. You always did have good taste in men, didn't you?”

  Mina leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “I am very proud of you, Allister,” she said approvingly.

  “Your name is Allister?” Athel asked mirthfully as she strode into the room, holding her staff, Alder following behind her.

  “I told you not to call me that when we’re on duty,” Evere grumbled.

  “Sorry, sir,” Mina chuckled.

  “That was pretty sly for a male,” Athel praised as she approached. “You put up such a protest about the brandy that they never checked to see if it was drugged.

  “Oh, they checked it all right, but they didn’t find any additives,” Dr. Griffin said as he examined one of the sleeping men. “See, that’s the beauty of it. I didn’t add any chemicals to the brew. It’s a spell woven directly into the lager. That’s why their poison tasters missed it. Even another doctor would have trouble detecting something this subtle,” he boasted, his graying pony tail flipping from side to side as he swaggered.

  “So, if you aren’t here to join their Guild, then why are you here?” Athel asked.

  “I’m here to end it,” Evere said sternly. “The Umor Guild has no honor, even for pirates. It is a creature of pure cruelty and should not be allowed to exist any longer.”

  “You were part of this Guild once, weren’t you?” Athel intuited.

  “Aye,” Evere affirmed. “My family’s caravan was raided when I was a boy, and they kept me on as a slave. Mina here was my caretaker and taught me how to defend myself.”

  “He was a very poor student,” Mina teased.

  “When we grew older, her uncle Jacques knew I had eyes for her, so he took my eyes...with red-hot pokers.” Evere tapped one of his artificial eyes with his finger. “That’s when she and I decided to leave.”

  Evere was interrupted by a clear bell tone coming from his pocket. He pulled out a message crystal and the image of a Federal Navy Admiral appeared above the stone, resplendent in dull dress uniform. He was an older man, with a short-cropped gray goatee and the shaved head traditional of Admiralty.

  “I see you got my message, Admiral Roapes,” Evere said, “I am honored that you would respond personally.”

  “You better not be lying to me, Evere,” Roapes warned.

  “Take a look for yourself,” Evere requested, turning the crystal around to give him a full view of the room. “All the Guild leaders will be hibernating for the next few weeks. All you have to do is come here and put them in irons.”

  “Hmph,” Roapes grunted approvingly. “So, what is your current location?”

  “Not so fast, Admiral. You’re forgetting our conditions.”

  The Admiral’s mouth twisted disapprovingly. “Fine. Just like last time. Your records will be wiped clean, all warrants and judgments permanently rescinded.”

  “And pay raises for my hardworking crew,” Evere added.

  “What?” the Admiral shouted, rising up in his seat.

  Evere laughed and began shaking the crystal. “What was that, Admiral? Your signal is breaking up.”

  Roapes regained his composure and sat back down. “I suppose we could reallocate some funds from your retirement package. I doubt you’ll live to use it anyway.”

  “One can only hope,” Evere responded. “Umor is heading North by Northeast, twenty leagues southwest of the Main island of the Eyechon Archipelago, elevation 6200.”

  Roapes leaned to one side and spoke with a subordinate of his for a moment. “We have some ships in that area. They should be there in a few hours.”

  “We’ll be long gone by then,” Evere reassured, moving to turn off the crystal.

  “One more thing,” Roapes added.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That red-haired girl in the room there with you, is she a member of your crew? What is her name?”

  Before Evere could answer, a woman in uniform whined in frustration and wrapped her arms around Roapes affectionately.

  “Oh, Miguelito,” she purred, “Why do you need to look at her when you have me?”

  “Hey, stop that Rachael,” Roapes complained, trying to pull her off of him, “I told you not to do that during official communique.”

  “Oh, but we love you,” another woman complained, embracing the Admiral passionately. Evere rolled his black eyes as he watched Roapes struggle with the two women, then deactivated the crystal.

  “So, that’s why your records show no action in the last five years,” Athel surmised.

  “I understand completely if you choose not to stay on with us,” Captain Evere said as he tossed the crystal to Athel. “Mina and I have gone straight, but I’m afraid we’re still not very good at it.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell us what you were up to?” Athel asked.

  “Two reasons,” Evere said, holding up his fingers. “First, you’d be innocent if something had gone wrong. No reason for you to go to jail with the rest of us. Second, we didn’t know you, so we couldn’t say whether or not you’d be good enough actors to pull it off.”

  “And now that you know us?” Athel asked.

  “We still wouldn’t have told you,” the Captain said, shaking his head, “The boy is like a statue. He’s got no panache, no élan.”

  “I was trained as a househusband, not a thespian,” Alder defended.

  “Aye, we can see that,” Evere agreed.

  Several gunshots rang out in the corridors near the oath hall. Ryin entered in a panic, still wearing the pair of underwear on his head. “Anybody want to tell me why I’m getting shot at out here?”

  “Looks like we’ve got a non-drinker at Umor,” Evere chuckled. “We better fish him out.”

  Suddenly the ground beneath Ryin opened up and great roots wrapped themselves around him, dragging him to the floor painfully. Exasperated, Athel kicked him in the face and then snatched her underwear off his head.

  “You had that coming, you know,” Mina reproached as she checked the priming charge on her rifle and ran to the entrance to the hall. She snatched up a piece of wood from the floor and stuck it out into the corridor. Several shots rang out, peppering the wood with holes from the lead balls.

  With a low grunt, Hanner grabbed the sides of the altar and ripped it from its mountings. Holding it out in front of him like a shie
ld, he forced his way through the door, with Mina and Evere close behind. Their attacker was surprised to see an altar rapidly closing in on him as he hid behind some water barrels and managed to fire several more shots before the stone table was thrown on top of him.

  Athel reached the doorway and looked out into the hallway when she noticed that Alder had unburied the sleeping body of Spirea and was hefting her onto his back.

  “What are you doing?” Athel asked.

  “Surely we don’t mean to leave her here,” Alder said.

  “We most certainly do,” Athel corrected. “She’s part of the Umor Guild now. Let her rot with the rest of them.”

  Alder hesitated and remained paralyzed in his stooped-over position, Spirea calmly drooling on his shoulder.

  “You think we should take her with us, don’t you?” Athel asked, irritated.

  “Yes,” Alder said, nodding slowly.

  “Why?” she snapped.

  “Because I have oaths to fulfill as well. To serve the women of Wysteria.”

  “And what about your duty to your matron?”

  “I thought you didn’t want to be my matron.”

  “Stop being difficult. You know what I mean.”

  Alder sighed and looked down. “If you command me to leave her, I must, of course.”

  Athel watched him curiously for a moment. He was much shorter than her, with a very frail physique, and so he often seemed like a child, yet he had a sense of duty that reminded her that he was anything but a child.

  “Fine,” Athel capitulated, “But it’ll be your responsibility if she causes any more trouble.”

  Alder smiled and stood up with Spirea on his back. “I’ll watch over her. Thank you very much,” he said as he followed her out of the hall.

  “I just didn’t want to deal with you pouting for the next month and a half, that’s all.”

  They joined the others out in the hall, who were standing over the crushed remains of the altar and the flattened pirate underneath.

  “I’m not saying that it didn’t work, Hanner. It’s just a little gruesome for my tastes, that’s all,” Mina argued.

  “So, what’s the plan, Captain?” Athel asked, saluting.

  Evere smiled and saluted in return. “Good to have you with us, Mrs. Forsythia.”

  “Miss Forsythia,” Athel corrected.

  “Aye, we need to drop sail and make for patrolled skies. There’ll be little time for a good, thorough looting. Just take what you pass by on your way out.”

  Hanner grunted happily and began quickly tossing apart a filthy pile of broken wares. Athel eyed him curiously as he picked his way through tattered and burnt draperies, discarded pieces of food, and metal utensils covered with the stains of bile and feces. Hanner stopped and noticed her looking at him, then stepped to one side making room and offering for her to join in.

  “I think I’ll pass” She said politely.

  Mina stopped picking the lock on a stone chest. Her foxlike ears twitched back and forth, and she instinctively dropped her stance. “Something’s not right. Another message is being sent from here on the island.”

  “How can you tell?” Dr. Griffin asked as he absentmindedly kicked a sleeping guard on the head.

  “I can hear the vibrations of the crystal,” she warned.

  “It looks like we’ve got ourselves a whole slew of non-drinkers in the Guild,” Captain Evere announced. “Someone find me a map that shows where they hide the signal tower in this rat hole.”

  Mina’s ears turned to one side and her head followed. “That way,” she said, pointing to the east tower visible through the glass ceiling.

  At that moment the floor vibrated and the glass ceiling rattled. Through the broken glass window over the east balcony, they saw the Dreadnaught listing to one side as the stone-array faltered, the spars of its foremast crashing into the stone wall of the port and grinding into the sandstone.

  “By the gods,” Evere swore, “doesn’t anyone at Umor drink anymore? What respectable pirate stronghold has so many sober people onboard? Mina, can you block the signal from the tower?”

  “Are you kidding? That tower’s way too far away,” she scoffed.

  “All right,” Evere ordered, “Hanner and I will silence the tower crystal. Mina, you and Athel get back to the ship and stop them before they destroy the stone array and maroon us here.”

  Some muffled screaming emanated from back in the oath hall, catching everyone’s attention.

  “And someone pull Ryin out of those blasted roots,” Evere huffed.

  * * *

  Odger felt the throb of his heartbeat, like a great wave of pain that began at his core then coursed out to his extremities. He clutched his fist and felt something warm and wet with a cold spike of metal protruding out from the center. He opened his eyes and saw the extent of his injures, and the cold fear took him. Too late, he remembered that he was supposed to keep his eyes closed when so close to death. Before him floated the shadow of a small child with shoulders slouched, and hands limp. Odger snapped his head to one side, but more shadows had already gathered. They were many shapes and sizes, but they all possessed the same rage. Odger turned his head again and saw still more, hundreds around him, closing in on him. Fierce and vicious noises entered his ears. Odger thought to speak. Words he had mulled over in his mind for decades, explanations and justifications, reasons that almost made clear the madness. But now that he was in the moment, he knew, as he had always known, that nothing could be said that would ever make things right.

  Now his entire world was filled with shadows, and he could feel the edges of his mind flaying away, layer by layer. He felt something beyond regret, past lament, crushing guilt stretching out forever before him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said with breathless lips.

  A pair of feminine legs leapt down before him, covered in the most delicate white fur, and he watched his head roll back to view the concerned face of Mina as she spoke words he could not hear.

  “He’s going cold,” Mina shouted as Dr. Griffin leapt down the last few steps of the ladder. He pulled out a small glass vial and broke the chain that held it around his neck. He poured the glowing contents onto the wound as he removed the broken pick that had pierced Odger and pulled out his surgical tools.

  Athel came down and stood before the entrance to the stone array, the core of every sky-ship that belonged to the Stonemasters of Boeth. It was part of their territory, sovereign and sacred, rented to the ships of the League through ancient oaths and pacts.

  Although she could see little beyond the glowing bubble that blocked off the core to those outside the Stonemasters’ order, she could still sense its power.

  She had little experience with foreign magic, and she was overwhelmed with how bizarre and artificial it felt, like the raw burn of coals compared to the gentle warmth of the sun.

  A scream roared out from the room before her, and the entire ship dropped beneath them, so that they were momentarily hovering in the air before falling down and crashing hard against the deck as the ship stopped again.

  Athel pulled herself up and peered through the shifting colors of the barrier. Dimly, she could see a short, stout little man, a Boethian like Odger, swinging a large hammer over and over against something in front of him, creating terrible screeching noises.

  “The Umor Guild’s Stonemaster is in there smashing things,” Athel called out as the ship lurched to one side, sending objects rolling along the deck.

  “He’s trying to destroy the array and strand you here,” Pops muttered as he passed by mopping the floor peacefully.

  “So much for the Stonemasters’ famed unshakable neutrality,” Ryin grumbled as he lowered himself down into the room. “If we don’t get out of here any Guild ships nearby are gonna’ come and have a barbeque with our heads. Get in there and stop him.”

  “Oh, yeah, like I know barrier magic,” Athel complained, slapping her hand against the wall of energy.

  Mina stood
before the wall and sang out a perfect note with her voice. The sound echoed throughout the room at first then became fainter and more narrow as Mina willed the sound into a tighter and tighter beam, until finally no one could hear any sound at all. The energy gathered between her cupped hands into a nearly invisible sphere, like water disturbed by a pebble.

  With a crack like thunder she released everything in a blade of clear blue that whipped out and crashed into the surface of the barrier. The barrier burned white hot but the blade of energy bounced back at Mina, picking her up off of her feet and throwing her into a support beam.

  Another fleshy scream roared out from the array and the ship lurched as it dropped several meters before stalling again, throwing everyone to the deck.

  “He’s coming to,” Dr. Griffin announced, cradling Odger’s bloody head as best he could with his free hand. Athel rolled Mina’s unconscious form off of her and crawled over to Odger, grabbing the sides of his greasy head and looking into his dimly opened eyes.

  “Odger, there’s someone inside the array. If we don’t stop him we’ll all drop into the ocean and die. We need your help.”

  Odger looked at Athel curiously; then licked his dry lips to speak. “Athel, are we friends or are we more than just friends? The reason I ask is because sometimes I have trouble distinguishing between what’s real and what’s just in my head.”

  Athel shook her head. “We only just met the other day, but if you help us, we’ll be friends.”

  Odger frowned at the thought and leaned back. “Darn,” he mumbled to himself. “If it wasn’t you, then who was that redhead I ate dinner with last night?”

  Athel heard the clear scream of a young woman fill the room around her. It took a moment before she realized that it was her that was screaming. A searing pain slammed into her brain, and she lost complete control of her body. Her legs kicked and her free arm struck out as her body instinctively attempted to defend itself against Odger’s tight grip on her left wrist. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she finally wrenched her arm free, revealing a metal stud in the center of Odger’s glove, like a press for a wax seal. The stud glowed red-hot, and Athel looked in horror with trembling fingers as she viewed the burnt flesh on her arm. The outline of a geometric spiral, like the cross-section of a snail’s shell, branded deeply into the flesh of her wrist.