Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (9 page)

Even King Orens’shaw of Lahiti and Kaiser Duncan of Almany laughed and shook hand and paw with one another, ending three hundred years of bad blood between them. Duncan’s clockwork arm clicked and clacked as the Lahitian pumped it energetically, his mane flopping about.

Princess Turino produced a multi-fluted Zithero; Prince Francisque took out his seal-skin lap drums. Duke Relivan brought out his lute, and spontaneous music began filling the hall. People laughed, told stories, and exchanged gifts. It became so festive, that those that stayed paid little attention to the delegations who quietly slipped out the back, their treaties left unsigned.

When she was finally afforded a break between shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, Queen Forsythia took a second to lean back in her throne.

“How bad is it?” she whispered to Alder, who was organizing the paperwork.

“Nineteen islands have formally joined with us,” Alder said back, stifling a cough.

The Queen closed her eyes. “Less than half of what I’d hoped for.”

Alder looked over his shoulder at the happy delegates. Many people were breaking out in song. Some were already drinking too much and slurring their words.

“Will it be enough?” Alder wondered.

Athel forced herself to think positively. “It will have to be.”

There was nothing more that could be done that day. Exhausted and famished, Athel and Alder could not help but let their guard down a little bit. Athel called for a plate, and enjoyed some of the sumptuous food she had been smelling all day. Alder’s dish was everything one would expect and more.

Seeing an opening, Nikki walked over and handed the Queen a glass of cherry wine. “I am sorry that my kin from Falmar refused to attend your conference. For what it is worth, I am with you, along with those of us who left the navy.”

Queen Forsythia accepted the glass graciously. As she took a sip, she noticed Nikki’s concern. “Something bothers you?”

Nikki looked up. “My Queen, do you really think the Stone Council would drop us all into the sea if they got the chance?”

Forgetting herself, Athel snickered. “Who do you think we are dealing with? This is the Stone Council. This is not the ‘give you a cupcake council,’ it’s the Stone Council.”

Nikki stared at her, bug-eyed, as Athel downed the rest of her wine.

“I know, it can be a hard thing to hear, especially for someone who served them loyally for so long,” she said, handing her the glass back.

“Um, no, it’s not that. After what they did on Madaringa, I guess it doesn’t seem like such a stretch. It’s just that…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make a joke before.”

Athel was embarrassed at her slip up.

“Oh, she’s very funny,” Alder mentioned as he placed the treaties into sealed boxes. “One time she made me dress up in a female navy uniform and dance for hours.”

Nikki’s eyes went even wider. “Did she really?”

Athel tried to compose herself. “You will forgive my indiscretion. I was a different person back then.”

Nikki eyes filled with esteem. “I would like to have met her. The women of your family are remarkable leaders. Your mother seemed perfect in every way, and you are so much like her. To be honest, it was a little daunting. You both seemed almost too perfect.”

Nikki smiled warmly. “I am glad to see that you are not so different than I.”

Athel smiled back.

They were interrupted by a drunken Duke Relivan, who wobbled up and tried to put his arm around the Queen, but only managed to snag his poufy sleeve on the corner of the back stand. “Queen Forsythia,” he burped. “I have my seal all ready to affix to the treaty, but I notice that the flowers I gave you are not on display in your hall. May I ask where they are?”

Athel chuckled nervously.

The air became chilled and whirled about the room, scattering napkins and knocking over table settings. The Mesdans all dropped to the floor in pain, their sensitive hearing overpowered by some gathering noise, beyond the range of the others, but still felt, like a sickly vibration that shook the marrow in one’s bones.

A corpse light began gathering in the center of the room. Dark chitterings and whispered mewings of the dead and the suffering.

“What is this?” Queen Forsythia called out over the gale. “I thought I told you to turn the crystal array off.”

“It is off, my Queen,” Dahoon shouted back.

The sickly light at the center of the hall took on the shape of a young woman’s head. Her hair was raven black, her cheekbones high and sharp. Her black eyes scanning about as she hovered above the tiny delegates and servants. Athel recognized her instantly.

“Spirea Sotol,” she whispered.

“Actually, it’s Queen Sotol now,” she responded, venom in her voice. “And look at you, all grown up and a Queen as well.”

Queen Sotol looked around at the cowering dignitaries. “And look how your little rebellion has grown. Is this what passes for a secessionist party? I must say, I am not impressed.”

Her frightening gaze landed upon the diminutive men and women from Sutor.

“President Kaln. I would have thought better of you. To think that you would throw your lot in with these traitors.”

“We are not traitors,” Queen Forsythia insisted, defiantly stepping before the image of Spirea. “The Stone Council betrayed us. How can you defend leadership that would destroy the whole world? And for what? What could possibly be gained by sinking all of the dry land? It is madness.”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Queen Sotol mused. “You, the leader of the Alliance, and me, as the leader of the League. That the two of us should make war on one another to decide the fate of the entire world.”

“It is strange. It is strange because you and I should not be enemies. We should be friends.”

“Friends?” she asked in surprise. “Friends with a Forsythian? Don’t make me laugh. The Sotol family was destroyed by you self-righteous Forsythians. You had us executed right in front of the other Braihmin families. Spirea was the only one to escape your purging, and you betrayed even her.”

“No, that was a misunderstanding. I didn’t turn you in to the military police. In fact, I was the one who arranged your diplomatic immunity to save you from the gallows.”

Queen Sotol gave a predatory grin. “It bothers you, doesn’t it? That you had a hand in setting me on this throne. That the person who will destroy you and everything you love only had the power to do so because you gave it to her? Look at you, standing there before me, so strong and self-assured. I look forward to seeing those defiant eyes of yours filled with grief.”

“Spirea, we don’t have to do this. We can end this war, you and I, right now. Turn off the rubric. Heal the seas. End this.”

Queen Sotol blinked. “You actually think you have a chance of surviving this, don’t you?” She shook her head. “Pathetic that you would be so naïve. You were able to gamble your way to a minor victory against the naval invasion and the Stone Council, but only because they fundamentally misunderstood you. You forget that I know you, Athel. I knew your mother, I knew your instructors. I watched you bully the other children in your classes. I know more of the forest’s secrets than even you know. Have you even checked what lies beneath your own throne?”

Queen Forsythia furrowed her brow.

Queen Sotol grinned smugly. “You can’t win this time.”

She turned her dark gaze to the others. “You have all placed your trust in Athel Forsythia. You are fools for doing so. She is a petulant, spoiled child. A little girl pretending to be queen. An actor playing a role far beyond her abilities. Mark my words. She will lead you all to destruction.”

“And where would you lead us?” King Dolan shot back. “Huh? What offer does the Stone Council present other than death?”

“Oh, Richardi. You will beg for death before the Stone Council is done with you. Right now you fear it, but when we are done with you, death will seem the sweetest gift imaginable.”

King Dolan stepped back. The menace of her presence was overpowering.

Queen Sotol turned her gaze to the others. “All of you, listen well. Your families, your kin. You will watch them all burn before your very eyes. The Stone Council will win in the end. Aetria will be no more. Only those who ally with us will live on to see the world that will rise out of the ashes of this one.”

And just as quickly as it had appeared, the image of Spirea disappeared, leaving everyone to exchange frightened glances.

* * *

Inside the barren throne room of Stretis, Blair could not help but laugh as Queen Sotol finished her transmission. He flicked the black fire away from the crystal array and it fell silent.

“Oh, that was well worth the souls it took to conjure.” Blair brought his hands up and sucked some of the black shakes off of his fingertips. A stray drip hit the marble floor and ate right through it. “The fear in their eyes, the desperation. It was so beautiful. I adore the artistry of this world the Gods made for us.”

“Not all of them were afraid,” Queen Sotol recalled, twirling her silver scepter in her hand. “Did you see the Forsythian? In her heart, that deluded little child still thinks she is going to win.”

Blair looked her over with his needle-like eyes. “Well, she did convince the lion’s share of the Federal navy to defect over to her side. Not to mention she bankrupted the League by raiding the treasury. At the moment, the Wysterian Alliance has a huge advantage over us in both military assets and resources.”

“As if that will save her. The winds of war will shift so quickly it will make her head spin.”

“So, your goal is to bring the rebels back into the League?”

“Of course not. If I make that my objective, it will limit what I can do. It will force me to consider how each move I make will affect each island. I’d have to take care not to hurt them or threaten their interests. No, that is not my goal. My goal is to kill Queen Forsythia. That is the task the Stone Council gave me, is it not?”

“Not an easy task. If my father gave it to me, I’d suspect he was setting me up to fail.”

Queen Sotol flicked the switch on her scepter, extending a hidden blade from within. “No, I’ve already won. Athel has a million things to consider. A fledgling empire to run, allies to appease, a war to fight. All of those considerations narrow her options. By keeping my objective simple, I give myself an unbeatable advantage.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

She ran her thumb along the blade, savoring the sensation of flesh being cut. “Right now she is surrounded by people she can trust. I will strip them away from her. She is protected by a massive fleet of airships. I will take them from her. She is sitting in the middle of a forest stronghold. I will kick her out of it. Broken, defenseless, and alone, I will draw her into a trap, a place and time of my own choosing where my advantage is overwhelming. I will grind her down until she begs me for death, and then I will give it to her.”

Blair placed his hands on his side and laughed deeply. “Oh, I am so pleased my father chose you for this assignment. The way you boldly use the darker colors on the canvas. You do not hesitate to use the paints you are gifted. You, my lady, are a true artist.”

Queen Sotol ignored the compliment and absentmindedly fingered the Beastmaster necklace around her neck. It kind of surprised her to find it there. She had meant to take it off, yet here it was around her neck again. She tried to recall the last time she had removed it, but then her head started hurting, and she had to call for a glass of wine from a terrified man wearing a loincloth who had, not that long ago, been the minister of finance in Stretis.

Deep inside Queen Sotol’s mind, trapped in a small corner, beaten and afraid, was the real Spirea. She looked out upon the world presented to her, a seemingly endless string of horrors and atrocities being committed by her body, yet she was powerless to do anything about it.

Her grandmother was in control of this body now, or at least, the dark thing that had once lived inside her grandmother was now living in her. A dirgina. Spirea realized now that she had never actually known her grandmother. She had been consumed and replaced by this demon long before Spirea had ever been born, and now, it was her turn. The unspeakable Sotol family legacy, hidden from the outside world of light. Yet, something was wrong this time. Somehow the real Spirea continued to exist.

Was it because of that necklace?

The real Spirea curled up as tightly as she could. She felt naked and alone in the dark, yet one thought kept coming back to her. Something she had overhead.

Athel said she didn’t betray me…that she tried to help me…could that be true?

She wanted so hard to believe it, but she was afraid to. Afraid to trust anyone--ever.

No, how could it be true? She stole Alder from me. The one person who ever showed me any kindness, and she claimed for herself. That gluttonous beast. She could have had any man she wanted. She took mine out of spite…at least I think she did. Ahh, it hurts to think. It’s so hard to think…

“What you propose seems difficult,” Blair commented, breaking Queen Sotol out of her stupor. “The Wysterian Alliance is small, but determined. And the Wysterians themselves are unified through their trees. Their loyalty to their Queen is beyond fanatical.”

The Queen chuckled animalistically and tossed a piece of meat over to her enormous fly traps. The hungry plants chewed up the morsel hungrily, venom dripping from their maws. “It only seems that way to an outsider. The Wysterians and their Alliance may try to present themselves as unified, but already within them are the seeds of their own destruction. Already in its very foundations are the cracks and fractures that roots can invade and crumble. All I need to do is throw a little water on those seeds.”

Blair licked his lips. “So, what color will you use first?”

“First, I need access to the smuggling tunnels.”

Blair crossed his arms. “That’s a lot of authority to give to someone outside of the Kabal.”

She twirled the tip of her blade against her fingertip. “Yes, but you are going to give it to me anyway.”