Isle of Wysteria: Make Like a Tree and Leaf

by Aaron Yeager

  Alder tried to think of a weapon that would most even the odds. Since Leitai was both stronger and faster, he quickly ruled out any melee weapons. Ranged weapons might have been a better choice, but Alder had never fired a gun or crossbow in his life, and he guessed that Leitai was experienced in both. As the crowd began yelling out, pressuring Alder to make a decision, he tried to think of another way to stall for time, something that would at least minimize the amount of damage that could be inflicted during the duel.

  “I choose goose-down pillows,” Alder called out, to the shock of all involved.

  * * *

  Far away on Thesda, in a small dank prison cell, Mandi Overtin hissed in irritation and tossed a bone across the room. Absentmindedly, she ran her manicured fingers through the long, raven-black hair growing from her head.

  “Why are these places always clammy?” she asked aloud. “Just once I’d like to see a dry prison cell with some decent heating.”

  Her plan had been perfect. She had assumed Spirea’s form and taken her place, while the real Spirea laid quiescent deep in the vaults. Once the Dreadnaught crew came to rescue her, she would be in the perfect position to kidnap the Wysterian princess, and then her father would have the final missing piece to reconstruct the light of creation.

  “Just how long is it going to take them to rescue her, anyway?” she complained. “Don’t they care about this girl at all?”

  It had already been two weeks, and Mandi was beginning to believe that the joke was on her. For all the wealth she had accumulated over the centuries, she wasn’t enjoying any of it. Just an endless stream of passing guards, scuttling rodents, and runny food.

  To relieve her boredom, she made plans for vacations she would take after leaving the cabal. It had been a long time since she had been to Cocimbas, and she spent many hours creating the order in which she would sample all the flavors of their famous spirited drinks.

  The outer door opened and closed, and then the inner door opened as a guard brought a bowl of food. Mandi sniffed it suspiciously as she took it from him.

  “It’s runnier than usual today,” she commented. “Is this a special occasion?”

  “Actually, your prison ship will be here in three days,” the guard said dispassionately, “so if you want to request a last meal, now is the time.”

  “Stop hiding behind the lies of words and the arbitrary rules of society,” she said boldly, raising her palm up toward him. “Show me your true nature. Show me what is in your heart.” There was a flash of light, and the guard’s head became encircled with a blue fire that was drawn into his ears and eyes. After a moment, he opened his eyes, now darkened, and smiled wickedly.

  “What do you want?” Mandi asked cruelly.

  “I want to see you scream in agony. I want you to plead for mercy.”

  “Your true nature displays violence and lust,” Mandi praised, licking her lips. She knew this would not fill the emptiness inside of her, but it would be fun trying anyway. “Perhaps you can help me pass the time after all.”

  * * *

  Back on Stretis, Alder could tell that Duke Leitai felt silly holding the corner of a large, fluffy white pillow in one hand as he slowly circled toward him. On the edges of the ring, on looking women shouted encouragement to Alder, while the men stood in shock of the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

  “Touché!” Alder called out, trying to sound legitimate.

  “You mean, ‘En garde,’” the Duke corrected.

  “Ah, yes. If I may ask, are you going to take off your shirt or leave it on?” Alder inquired.

  The Duke ignored the question and charged at Alder, spinning the pillow in his hand like a morning star.

  The crowd cheered as Leitai slashed with his pillow. Alder tried to duck, but it clipped him on the side of the head and knocked him off balance. Expertly, Leitai stepped sideways and allowed the pillow to swing up behind him, then brought it down with all his force, catching Alder square in the back and knocking him to the floor.

  Alder coughed and hacked as he fought to stand up. The duel had barely begun, and already he would have died twice if they were fighting with anything else. The Duke stepped backward and swung up, the pillow catching Alder under the chin and lifting him up off his feet. The world spun around as Alder felt himself crashing to the floor. It was only a pillow, but the Duke was swinging it with such force that Alder felt like he was being hit by a solid club. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he imagined Athel turning her head in shame. What need could she possibly have of a husband who couldn’t even protect her in a pillow fight?

  The men in the crowd cheered and laughed while the women booed and wept. One woman threatened to take out a bounty on the Duke’s life if he didn’t let Alder get a few hits in.

  Alder swung his pillow blindly, succeeding only in patting Leitai’s leg. Rolling his eyes, Leitai swung his pillow over and over again, striking Alder on the head, neck and shoulders. He landed a blow to the boy’s midsection hard enough to flip him over onto his side, eliciting a small whimper instead of what could have been a howl of pain.

  “This will take all day,” called out a man over the crowd. Nodding his head, Leitai pinned a squirming Alder to the ground with the heel of his boot while tearing away one corner of his pillow and dumping the contents onto him. The men cheered and the women jeered and Alder coughed as Leitai removed the jewelry from his neck and hands and placed them into the now empty pillowcase.

  “Forgive me, sir,” Alder coughed, spitting out a few feathers, “but I do not believe you are allowed to do that.”

  “Is he allowed to do that?” Margaret asked, worried.

  “I’m afraid so,” Duchess Erin conceded. “Improvisation with the weapons is allowed.”

  Duke Leitai swung his pillowcase down hard, the weighted end striking Alder on the shoulder, forcing him to yelp in pain.

  “But I don’t have any jewelry,” Alder cried out, fighting back the pain. Suddenly another yelp rang out, and Alder was surprised to see Duke Leitai rubbing the side of his head, a stone brooch spinning at his feet. Alder watched the trinket spin and realized that one of the women must have heard him and thrown it. So enamored were they by the spell that they were anxious to respond to any command he gave.

  Clearing his throat, Alder called out in a loud voice, “I really wish some beautiful lady would throw me some jewelry so that I could fight on equal terms.”

  No sooner had he finished his sentence, than a volley of heavy, sharp jewelry was launched by the women in the crowd from all directions. Silver bracelets, stone anklets, crystal necklaces, golden rings, and jade hair pins landed heavily all around them. Ducking to the ground, Alder was saved from much of the ferocity, while his opponent was pelted relentlessly. Earrings and hair-sticks became lodged in his long black hair as he swung randomly, attempting to shield his eyes with his free hand.

  Releasing a roar of frustration, Duke Leitai wiped some of the trickling blood away from his face and threw down his pillowcase. Drawing a small silver dagger from his belt, he pulled Alder into a headlock and prepared to deliver the final blow.

  Alder had never been so acutely aware of his own limitations. He felt completely overpowered, and entirely at the mercy of his opponent. Normally this feeling would cause him to shut down and hide inside himself. It was a survival technique the men of his household had to master to keep their sanity. During long sessions of deprivation and punishment, they would enter a dreamlike state where their minds were separated from their bodies, feeling the pain only distantly.

  However, this time was different. Something inside him cried out. Something that Alder had long thought dead.

  He fought back.

  Grabbing his assailant’s wrist, Alder used the strength of both of his thin arms to push the blade away as best he could, all the while screaming, “Help! Save me from this madman!”

  If Alder had possessed the time to think through what he was about to do, he probably wouldn’t have s
aid that. Then again, if he had time to think things through, he wouldn’t have been in that duel in the first place. Hearing his cry, the women in the hall surged forward over the barrier of candles, which caught a few of their hems on fire for a moment until they were stomped out. Nearly in unison, from youngest to oldest, the women each removed one of their high-heeled shoes and swung them around their heads like clubs.

  For his part, Duke Leitai released a most undignified scream as Alder squirmed free of his grasp, and dozens of ladies began hitting him with the sharp ends of their high-heeled shoes. Some of the men leapt into the circle as well, presumably to save the Duke, but as they drew near to the merciless feminine assault, they slowed to a halt and could only look on in bewilderment as he was beaten wildly.

  The air chilled and the sounds of bending timbers rose over the voices of the crowd. Squirming to his feet, Alder looked for the source of it, as several nearby women wrapped their arms around him and began smothering him with kisses and confessions of devotion. All around the edges of the southern door, ice crystals spread and grew until it was coated in a thin sheet of ice. There was a crack like thunder and the door shattered inward. Many of the guests screamed in panic and a few began to run for the exits.

  Taking full advantage of the confusion, Mina danced into the room through the shattered doorway, executing a graceful back flip over an upturned couch. Sweeping her arms upward, she released a wave of arctic cold that threw a stunned guard against the wall, his armor icing over and freezing him in place.

  Ryin Colenat and Captain Evere ran into the room, tossing colored glass vials onto the floor which exploded and released large clouds of brightly crackling smoke.

  Some of the guards rallied and summoned a gale that blew the smoke back down into the exposed hallway, but their success was short lived. Dr. Griffin entered the room, unbuckled his belt and, in a display that would haunt all present for years afterward, pulled his pants down to his ankles, releasing a swarm of rodents that went scurrying in all directions, their small furry hides changing colors wildly as they ran. Guards and guests were thrown into the air as rats exploded beneath them.

  The swarm of vermin was particularly upsetting to the women in the room, who managed to climb drapes, heft themselves through windows, and hang from paintings on the walls to escape the running rodents. Those females closest to Alder clung to him tightly, kissing his neck and arms and begging for his protection.

  Alder felt a cold chill run up his spine, but not from any Mesdan magic. He saw the anger in Athel’s eyes as she entered the room and saw his predicament. He tried to run away, but was held fast by dozens of gloved hands and smothering lips.

  “Alder Bursage-Forsythia,” Athel roared out as she approached, drawing her pistol. “We risk our lives to break in here and rescue you, and how do we find you?”

  “P-please, Miss Athel,” Alder began, trying to raise a hand toward her.

  “This is probably some dream come true for you, isn’t it?” she continued, pulling out her saber. “Engaging in some perverse orgy with your own personal harem?”

  Athel charged the last few meters, leaping in the air to come down right on top of him. As she sailed toward him, her red hair blew wildly around her like a halo of fire. For a moment Alder wondered if she truly might kill him, but then the fire in her eyes turned tender and her weapons fell away from her hands as she landed next to him and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him passionately.

  The world seemed to slow for a few moments. Alder could faintly hear Ryin and Mina fighting with the guards, and some nearby women pleading for their turn to kiss him as well, but they seemed like distant echoes. It seemed to Alder that her heart opened, and the love and passion that flowed out washed over him like a warm midday sun. He basked in that glorious light and, to his surprise, returned her kiss, managing to free his arms and wrap them around her. He felt his own heart open as well, and knew that he could never close it again.

  “Sweetie, has your brain frozen over?” Mina screamed out as she shoved a guard to the ground and froze his armor to the floor. “We don’t have time for that right now.”

  Mina moved to run toward the two, but Dr. Griffin grabbed her uniform by the cuff and stopped her, saying “Don’t get any closer, or you’ll be affected by the spell as well.”

  Dr. Griffin’s words cut through Alder’s world of sunlight, and eclipsed it. Slowly, he pulled back from Athel’s passionate kiss and embrace. This is all just a lie, he reminded himself sadly, it is just the affects of the spell.

  Besting the last of the guards, Ryin found the Duke’s discarded pillowcase, and descended on the piles of discarded jewelry like a starving jackal, stuffing in handfuls as fast as he could.

  Captain Evere was more restrained. He waded into the sea of pleading females, shoving them aside, and hefted a trampled Alder over one shoulder and a gushing Athel over another.

  “Let’s get a move on, boy,” Evere called out as he forced his way through the crowd. “This is no time for looting.”

  “Says you,” Ryin yelled out greedily as he stuffed the pillowcase to capacity.

  The bell tower of the cultural hall came alive, its penetrating tones sounding the alarm. Dr. Griffin located Margaret and pulled her free of the crowd, kicking and screaming.

  “With a will, Colenat,” Evere ordered.

  “I’ll come when I’m good and ready,” Ryin responded, stuffing in another fistful.

  “By thunder, if you don’t come now I’ll sack you from my crew and my ship,” he bellowed as he made his way out of the hall through the busted doorway with the others.

  “Some threat! With all this I can buy my own ship.” A crossbow bolt whizzed past Ryin’s head and implanted itself into the wall. He looked up and saw dozens more guards entering from the other end.

  “Then again...” he grunted, hefting his loot over his shoulder and following the others out of the hall.

  As soon as they left, the women in the hall began standing up and clearing their heads. Free of the spell, they looked around; suddenly appalled at the mess the room had become, horrified at their torn dresses and aghast at their discarded jewelry. Some women embraced in apology for their behavior, while others swore that they would never forgive such conduct. The men could only look at each other and shake their heads in disbelief.

  Duchess Erin managed to retain some of her composure, and stumbled her way to Duke Leitai, who was battered and bleeding, barely able to sit up and acknowledge her.

  “Your champion has forfeited the duel,” he gurgled out through coughs. “The Eye of the Storm is mine.”

  Duchess Erin smiled and attempted to look as poised as she could with her hair and clothes in tatters.

  “My dear Duke,” she said, unhooking the necklace and balling it up in her fist. “The duel was for this necklace. I never said it was The Eye.”

  Erin tossed the necklace in his lap and he beheld it in disbelief.

  “It’s a fake?” he asked. “But, the rules...”

  “The rules only state that I must wear the necklace on my person,” the Duchess explained. “It never specified I have to wear it around my neck. I wear the real Eye as an anklet.”

  The Duchess raised the hem of her skirt and poked her foot out. The Duke’s eyes grew wide at what he saw, and could only laugh at the absurdity of it all.

  * * *

  Odger didn’t like water, as it had the nasty habit of removing the layer of dirt that protected him from the void whales that tried to read his thoughts. As ordered, he had positioned the Dreadnaught next to one of the columns of water that flowed upward like a river, feeding the nearby tower waterfalls, and the mist in the air was beginning to bead up, threatening to expose his skin and his mind to those indefatigable void whales.

  The alarm bells of the cultural hall far below had been ringing for several minutes now, and Odger began to wonder at what point he should abandon his post and seek his own fortune rather than risk getting arrested along with
the rest of his crew.

  Not to worry, not to worry, he reminded himself. I’m a Stonemaster, and we have immunity from the actions of our crews, so long as we do not allow anyone entrance into the ship’s core. For a moment, Odger had the distinct sensation that he had a fairly recent memory of allowing one of his crewmates into the core. He couldn’t remember why, but quickly decided that the reason was not that important. Letting an outsider into the core would be treason, and I would never do that...would I?

  He seemed to remember putting an entrance seal on one of the Wysterian’s wrists, but then shook his head and decided that it was one of his delusions. Or was it?

  His thoughts were interrupted by several large specks rising up along the column of water as it was forced upward by the magical winds. As they came closer he realized they were not specks but people within the stream. When they reached the top of the column there was a burst of freezing water which rained down over the ship and soaked Odger from head to toe. His crewmates hacked and coughed for breath as they attempted to stand up after their horrifying journey.

  “Fire and lightning it’s good to be alive!” Captain Evere called out, water pouring down his face and coat. “Down to the core with you, Mister Jhonstin, keep her smooth running, I want our best speed out of here.”

  Odger saluted and headed below deck, terrified of the clean spots that were appearing on his skin.

  “We’ve only got a couple of minutes before their Stormcallers kill the natural winds,” Ryin warned as he set down his pillowcase and began priming the cannon.

  Mina and Margaret were the next to rise out of the pooled water on the deck, each one holding on to one of Alder’s legs. They pulled with all their might, threatening to tear the poor screaming boy in half.

  “Honey, you’d better let him go if you know what’s good for you,” Mina threatened. Releasing her hold on Alder’s leg, she swept her arms upward, causing the water around Margaret’s legs to freeze, welding her boots to the deck.

  “You can’t have him you old hag,” Margaret squealed, releasing Alder’s leg. She punched forward, releasing a concentrated gust of air that hit Mina square in the chest, sending her flying backward and crashing into a collection of ratlines. “You’ve already got a husband anyway.”