Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen (14 page)

The Naval taskforce, the largest in history, slowly crept away from Wysteria. The southern peninsula and the capital city were a smoldering wasteland. The air and clouds were black from smoke and thick with ash. Red hot embers drifted upwards through the choked air in all directions, creating a kind of smoldering starlight against a blanket of black sky.

As the broken form of Milia flickered in and out of existence, her blood and tears falling to the ground, a light rain began to fall, as if the heavens themselves wept for the destruction of so much of the forest.

It was raining outside of Molly’s house.

Sometimes, she felt like it was always raining.

The sound of rain reminded her of cooking bacon, and the thought of bacon reminded her of how hungry she was.

Molly slowly turned her head, trying to peek over her pigtail to see if anyone was there. Her father had told her that if she got up before he told her to, that she would have no breakfast. That felt like forever ago, however, and her little tummy pained her with its emptiness.

Molly ventured to turn her head a little bit further. Her father’s chair had its back to her. Wide and strong, it scared her. Empty bottles were scattered around the floor around it. Molly wasn’t sure what was in those bottles, but she knew that they smelled bad, and they made her dad act mean.

She hated those bottles. Sometimes she thought about throwing them all away, or burying them in the backyard. Then maybe her daddy would be nice to her again. Once, she had found one that was still half full, and had poured the contents down the sink. Her father had punished her severely for that one, and she never tried it again.

A noise came from her father’s chair, and Molly snapped her head back, looking at the wall as she had been instructed. The noise came again, a kind of half-cough and half-choke. Daddy was snoring.

Compelled by hunger, Molly stood up and slowly walked past her father’s chair. She could feel her little heart pounding inside of her. She was so afraid.

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she was a beautiful princess, her pink ballgown shimmering from rays of sunlight coming through holes in the ceiling of this magical cave. The cave rumbled from the sounds of the sleeping giant, sending little bits of rock and dust falling around her, but she was not afraid. She raised her diamond heart-shaped wand, and created a magic pink bubble that would protect her from the giant. Adjusting her ruby tiara, she pressed onward, being careful not to allow her golden slippers to make any tapping sounds on the floor of the cave as she passed by.

Molly tiptoed down the hallway and entered the pantry. Her heart sank at what she saw. Cans and barrels that she wasn’t strong enough to open, a dozen or so bottles filled with that stinky stuff.

Molly put her little feet onto the shelf and tried to pull herself up to the next shelf, but it was just a bit too high for her to see. Stretching out her hand, she slid it around to see if it touched anything. Nothing but dust. She came up on her tiptoes and slid her hand again, sticking out her tongue in concentration. Her fingers touched something, and she grabbed it.

Dropping back down to the floor, she held the morsel carefully in her grip.

What if it is a cracker, or a piece of fruit? That would be splendid!

Molly wasn’t sure exactly what splendid meant, but she knew that it was a pretty sounding word, and she imagined that it was something a princess would say.

Slowly she uncurled her fingers. It was a piece of very old cheese. It was a funny color, and the smell made her feel sick. Her tummy hurt so much, she felt like crying.

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she was sitting in the middle of a beautiful forest glen, birds happily chirping in the distance. Smoothing out the ruffles on her pink princess dress, she sat down, and little animals scampered out to sit with her. In her hand, she held a large loaf of sparkling bread. With her white gloves, she carefully broke off pieces of the bread and gave one piece to each of the little animals. They chirped happily and gobbled up the morsel, thanking her for her kindness.

Molly nodded politely, as a princess should. It was important to be kind to animals. Molly hoped that maybe if she was nice enough, the God Rendas might bless her with a friend.

A new noise made Molly freeze. For a moment, she worried that her father might have awoken. She sat perfectly still, listening for terrifying sound of approaching footsteps, but none came. She only heard the rain, and the sounds of snoring coming from the living room.

The new noise happened again. It was soft, like a stick being dragged across wood. Molly got up and turned her head, her tiny pigtails swishing back and forth.

She heard the noise again. Someone was scratching on the front door.

She carefully pulled a stool in front of the door and climbed up to see through the peephole. No one was there, only wet rainy streets.

She was putting the stool away when the scratching happened again. Gathering up her courage and double-checking her father’s chair, she quietly unlatched the door and peeked out.

There, sitting in the rain, was a cat, soaked to the bone.

Magic kitty!

The magic kitty was very hurt. One of her legs was missing. Pieces of her fur and flesh were gone too. She could see a couple of kitty’s black bones poking out, but Molly didn’t care. She was so happy to see kitty that she nearly shouted, but a large snore from her father reminded her to be quiet. She reached out and gave the kitty the biggest hug ever. The kitty made no noise, only closed her eyes and fell asleep. Molly had never seen a kitty so tired before. She carefully closed the front door and carried kitty to her room. She decided that she would take out her very best blanket and make a place for kitty to rest.

The song of the forest was different than it had been before. Different than it had ever been. A song of sorrow, a song of grief. And yet, within that grief was a unity. A shared experience that made them all equal. There were no longer Braihmin or Kisatriya, Vayshya or Suidra. There were only survivors. They had weathered the worst storm in living memory, and yet the forest had survived. They had defeated the greatest invasion force in the history of The League, and there carried with that a certain pride. A quiet dignity in the face of pain that allowed them to hold their heads up high, even when their hearts were breaking.

Queen Forsythia sat on her temporary throne of living wood, grown up from a stump in a little grove. Rays of sunlight descended through cracks in the gray clouds. This clearing was the place where Milia’s hand had landed during the battle. The Queen had chosen it to honor Milia’s intervention and sacrifice during the invasion. It seemed like the most appropriate place to conduct business while the Royal Tree recovered.

The Queen’s face was ashen, a pallor that seemed to penetrate to her very soul. She looked older, she looked tired, yet she held herself as straight and tall as ever.

“Have you managed to send a signal to the Stone Council?” The Queen asked icily. “I wish to discuss my terms with them.”

Several of the courtiers present tapped their staffs in approval.

“Not yet, my Queen,” a male attendant apologized. “It appears the entire grid is still down.”

“Let me know the moment that changes.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

It was very strange to be out of communication with the rest of the League. The prism streams were famously reliable, yet the whole grid had shut down in the middle of the battle, and had been down ever since. Some whispered that this may have been the reason for the fleet’s retreat.

“May I announce the arrival of Captain Tallia of the Royal Guard?” Dahoon announced.

Several courtiers parted, and Captain Tallia slowly made her way to the center of the clearing. Her right leg was in a splint, wrapped in herbal Jippanna leaves. She leaned on her staff as one would a crutch, hobbling slowly but proudly. The stump of her left arm was bandaged, a faint hint of red bleeding through where the limb had been severed.

“Why have you not healed your wounds?” The Queen asked dispassionately.

Captain Tallia’s lip trembled, but she stood proud. “I am sorry, my Queen. My Ma’iltri’ia, Witchazel, she was hewn down during the battle. I...” Captain Tallia paused, her control nearly breaking. “I can still link to the forest, but I...I am rootless. I can no longer Treesing.”

A wave of shock that passed through the courtiers. No one had ever outlived their tree. Several women wept openly.

Queen Forsythia, for her part, betrayed no emotion. “I acknowledge how frail and fruitless must be any words of mine that would attempt to console you from a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot restrain myself from praising your dedication to duty. You have brought honor to yourself and your family. I must affirm the nobility you have shown for having laid down so costly a sacrifice for the freedom of our people.”

Captain Tallia nodded thankfully, but no one present applauded. The Forsythians were known for being cold in the face of grief, weeping for no one, even their own, and while the members of the court had come to expect it, they never could bring themselves to get used to it.

“We have taken a great many prisoners, nearly beyond count. They are currently being held in Lily Canyon. What would you have us do with them?” Captain Tallia asked. She may have lost her twin and her magic, but she was still the Captain of the Guard, after all.

“Care for them as you would a guest,” the Queen responded formally. “I want their wounds tended to. Make sure they are well fed and clothed. Instruct all that the prisoners are not to be mistreated in any way.”

Captain Tallia could not hide her disdain and resentment. “It will be done.”

Laboriously, Captain Tallia turned and hobbled away. Already the other women were looking at her differently, as if she were a man.

“Presenting Balen, formerly of the Fothergilla, currently unassigned,” Dahoon announced formally, if somewhat awkwardly.

Balen stepped forward, unable to maintain decorum as he looked at the Queen. He gave her a little wink when he was close enough that he thought no one was looking.

“I understand that you are the one who organized the men into salvaging cannon from the fallen Navy ships during the siege, without any orders from your matrons,” the Queen said coldly.

“Um, yes, my Queen,” Balen responded, looking suddenly less sure of himself.

“You must understand that ignoring the natural order weakens us all. Harmony requires that all play their role and do their part,” the Queen continued.

Balen squinted, preparing for the worst. Several of the courtiers whispered expectantly to one another.

“However, no system is without its limits, and when leadership is overwhelmed, waiting for instructions can erode into inactivity. In desperate times such as those, such initiative as you showed is proper and even commendable.”

A hush of surprise descended on the courtiers. The Queen subtly attempted to grip her staff more tightly and calm them, but her body lost its strength and her hand slackened ever so slightly. Everyone else present failed to notice, but Balen caught it.

“Are there more salvageable Navy guns in the southern forest?” Queen Hazel asked, sounding a little winded.

“Yes, my Queen, a great many,” Balen responded. “Several thousand at least.”

“I know this intrudes on our wedding plans, but in the light of the attack, I would ask if you would be willing to organize as many men as can be spared to salvage as many guns as practicable in order to create some traditional defenses around the capital?”

Balen took a half step forward, almost as if he were about to hug her. The Queen’s guard moved their hands to their weapons.

Thinking better of it, Balen instead bowed down on one knee. “I would be honored, my Queen.”

Queen Forsythia nodded politely. “Most of our men have no military experience. They will need training and drilling in order to use the weapons safely.”

The Queen leaned over slightly, looking directly at the matrons whispering to each other derisively at the edge of the clearing. “Under direct supervision of appointed matrons, of course.”

The women became silent under the Queen’s icy gaze. “Once the defenses are readied, the men will return to their matrons until such time as they are needed and called upon. Is that clear?”

“As clear as a teal crystal, my Queen,” Balen said, bowing again, hoping to sneak in the reference to their wedding colors without anyone else noticing.

Many of the matrons looked at him unkindly as he strode out with his wide shoulders and sculpted physique. As soon as he was out of earshot, Lady Aspen Bursage stepped forward to protest, her hair like winter’s frost with eyes to match.

“My Queen, surely it is dangerous to arm the men.”

“Why is that?” Queen Forsythia asked icily.

“Males are aggressive and unpredictable.”

“And females are not?” the Queen asked.

For several moments, the Queen waited for a response, but no one offered one. They all had experienced plenty of female aggression and unpredictability over the years, as well as dishonesty, greed, selfishness, and even betrayal.

The Queen tilted her head slightly. Her voice came out softer than before. “Lady Aspen, I know this is something of a departure from our ways, but consider that those men were willing to die for the defense of their homes. They even attempted to do so without training or equipment. Is there any greater test of loyalty? Is anything more needed to prove them?”

Lady Bursage opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. Instead, she ground her teeth in frustration. “I suppose, since these defenses will not be permanently manned, and are intended to be used only in an emergency, I can accept them,” Lady Bursage admitted grudgingly.

The Queen nodded.

Suddenly there was a buzzing, and a ball of energy began to form in the center of the clearing.

“Are the stream arteries working again?” Queen Forsythia asked.

“No, they're still down,” Dahoon confirmed.