Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen (49 page)

Suddenly, all the Dragons surged forward, as of they had sensed something ahead on their own. They moved as one, without orders, fanning out into a semicircle and gathering their fire within themselves.

Then, they passed through the air before them as if it was a curtain, and emerged before a dark, squat citadel rising up out of the sea water. Like a giant flat crown, each point rose up into a spire with unmarked cargo vessels docked with it. Arcs of purple energies raced across the scowling stony surfaces. Squat Stonemasters loaded fresh crates of ruper spice onto the docks.

With a mighty roar, three dozen dragons released balls of prismatic fire from their maws and smashed the docks apart, setting them ablaze. Spires cracked and toppled, their weight breaking apart the stone beneath them as they crashed down. The cargo ships were splintered from stem to stern, twisted to pieces as of they were nothing more than toys. Everywhere, burning wood and screaming Stonemasters fell into the sea below.

The fortress defended itself. Black bolts of lighting struck out at the weaving dragons. Cannons cackled out sorcerous balls that arced and traced after the dragons, injuring some of them terribly.

The wrath of these creatures was truly terrible to behold. Without mercy they pounded the fortress over and over again. Some of the dragons, unsatisfied with merely burning it with fire from a distance, landed directly onto the fortress, tearing away huge sections of the walls and parapets with their claws and teeth. The hardened obsidian stone came apart as if it were nothing more than sand.

* * *

Back in the shallow cave, Privet and Captain Evere lay back to back, naked as the day they were born, wrapped up in layers and layers of clothes and every spare bit of cloth that could be found. If you squinted they kind of looked like a big, rolled up bratwurst.

“Hey Evere,” Privet coughed, his face pale from loss of blood.

“Let’s not make this any more awkward than it already is by chatting it up.” Evere requested.

“Did you think this is how you would go?”

Captain Evere was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Really?”

“I mean, being wrapped up with a naked man wasn’t part of the plan.”

“I should hope not.”

“But I've always suspected I’d finally hit a big haul then bite it before I had a chance to spend it.”

“Just your luck, eh?”

“Oh yeah,” Captain Evere chuckled. “It’s in my blood, you know. Tomani always leap before we look. We always move before we're prepared. We always wager more than we can afford to lose. We have an...obsessive disdain for prudence. We got that from Zelica, our mother.”

Privet chuckled. “The only goddess to ever have her island taken away.”

“Aye, that must have been a good scrap.”

“Do you miss it? Your homeland, I mean.”

Captain Evere shook his head. “It was before my time, so I never knew it. I grew up in a caravan afterwards, moving from place to place. To me, wherever family was, that was home.”

They lay there in silence for a moment.

“Still,” Captain Evere admitted. “Sometimes I think it might be nice to have a place where your kind aren’t hated as vagabonds, a place where you belong.”

“I know what you mean,” Privet agreed. “It’s hard to love a place that hates you.”

Dr. Griffin snored loudly as he reclined against the rockwall, his head flopping to one side. Privet looked over at Setsuna. Her face was very pale now, her closed eyes sunken. Green blood was pooling up underneath her.

“Hey, Setsuna, you need to stay awake,” Privet urged. “Stay with us, okay?”

“I’m not asleep,” Setsuna coughed weakly. “I was just reading the inside of my eyelids.”

“Reading?”

“Yeah, I keep my diary there.”

Despite her aloofness, Privet could see her long pale ears shivering from the cold.

“I never got a chance to thank you,” he said sincerely.

“For what?” Setsuna asked.

“For pushing me out of the way. I’d be gone if you hadn’t...”

“I can’t go back to my Guild,” she said quietly.

“What?”

Setsuna reached up and pulled the ribbon out of one pigtail, her hair falling limp around her face. “I lost my honor in a duel. That’s how it works. Until I make you my husband, I am effectively banished from my Guild and my homeland. But, that’s not why I pushed you.”

Privet nodded sincerely. “Well, I guess I'll start by saying that I’m grateful to still be here.”

“Speak for yourself,” Margaret complained, her glasses low on her nose as she lay there wrapped up with Setsuna.

“Aw, and you are such a sweetheart for keeping me warm,” Setsuna thanked, squirming around in the wraps.

Margaret’s eyes became the size of dinner plates. “Don’t wiggle your butt against me!”

Everyone laughed.

Margaret hid her face in shame. “Now I'll never be able to be a proper bride.”

Outside the cave, there were three enormous thumps that shook the ground. The cave around them opened up like the lid of a chest, revealing misty skies above them. A ruby-scaled dragon poked its head in, looking them over as it craned its long neck.

Margaret screamed as it reached down and plucked her and Setsuna up with one clawed hand, Captain Evere and Privet in another. Effortlessly, it flipped them upright and caught them again. The Dragon flapped his massive wings. He breathed in deeply, gathering prismatic fire in his open mouth.

“Oh, this has bad day written all over it,” Setsuna winced.

The dragonfire washed over them, but it did not consume. Instead, they found themselves wrapped in bliss. As the flames touched their wounds, the flesh mended itself, and new skin grew into place, leaving no evidence that there had ever been an injury.

“Okay, I definitely didn’t see that one coming,” Setsuna admitted as she took off her sling and cast, her arm completely mended. The dragon set them back down as Athel and the others dropped down off the other dragon’s backs.

“How did you do that?” Captain Ever said, feeling his restored neck.

Kyrkk'ia helped Athel down off her back. “Eilio'ama, what you call Spirit Magic, is the power of creation. Creation through life,” the dragon explained in her wise, tender tones. “What you call void magic is its brother, creation through death. These two energies existed long before the creation of this world.”

“How can you create through death?” Privet wondered aloud as he examined his healed leg.

Vah’mnemn shoved his snout right in Privet’s face. “You mortals always create through death. It is your nature. You kill trees to build your ships, you kill animals to feed your bellies, you kill to make your clothes, you kill to make room for more of your own kind. Everything you create comes at the expense of another.”

“Sorry I asked,” Privet whispered.

Rather than be offended, Athel thought hard on his words. “I guess when you put it that way, it must be very distasteful.”

Igne'aku nodded. “That is why we keep to ourselves. My siblings and I created this world long ago to be a place of rest, of meditation, of sharing.”

“And then we came along.”

“Yes, but I try to remind myself that it is not your fault. There are many kinds of spirits in the spirit world, and some became intrigued with this world we dragons had created. They stole from us the light of creation and shattered it amongst themselves. They used those fragments to make for each of them an island and a people. They began to call themselves gods.” He snorted, a little flick of white fire coming out of his nostrils. “The impertinence. They even renamed it Aetria, as if they had the right.”

“So what did you call it?”

Igne'aku opened his mouth a little and squinted his eyes. It took Athel a moment to realize that he was smiling. “We called this world Eia'eino, the gathering of hearts.”

While Alder loaded up their things, Athel informed the others about what had happened in their absence.

* * *

Back on the Dreadnaught, Odger came waddling up to the deck. If anyone else had been there to see him, they would have stared in disbelief. His face was washed, his hair and beard were clean and braided. He smelled of sweet incense. Even his clothes had been washed and pressed. He looked like an entirely different person.

“Dr. Griffin! Dr. Griffin!” he called out as he waddled around the deck happily waving a glowing vial around in his clean hand. “I’m cured! I’m cured!” he yelled. “This new batch of medicine you gave me has stopped the hallucinations!”

Odger stopped and breathed in deeply. “The world smells right again, the world sounds right again. For the first time in years, I can think clearly. The voices are gone!”

Odger jumped up and down and spun around in a happy little dance. With unbridled joy, he kicked his short legs and waved his stubby arms.

Then three dragons landed in front of him on the deck.

Odger screamed louder than he ever had in his life. He stared up at the enormous creatures with their armored scales, magical fire trailing out through their eyes and nostrils.

“This stuff makes it worse!” he hollered, tossing the vial overboard, and scrambling back downstairs as fast as his stubby little legs would carry him.

Athel and the others jumped down off the dragon’s backs.

“...I’m telling you, I didn’t eat your ruttin’ bird, Cap’n,” Hanner complained as he draped Strenner over his back and burped him.

“So where is he, then?” Evere yelled, following Hanner belowdeck. “We meet up with you again and the very same day Tim goes missing. Coincidence?”

“Yes, it is a coincidence, because that is what the word coincidence means. Two blasted things that happen after each other but are un-ruttin’-related!”

“Thank you so much for bringing us back to our ship,” Athel said to the dragons, giving a formal curtsy.

Igne'aku took her hand with the tip of his fingers and turned it over. He breathed a gentle flame of multi-colored fire into her open palm. It was warm and gentle, like a soothing bath. When the flame ebbed, a living red rose lay in her hand, wet drops of dew on its delicate petals.

“What is that?” asked Alder.

Athel could hardly believe it. “It’s a red cliff rose,” she stammered.

Alder came close to admire it. “I've never seen a red one before.”

Athel laughed in disbelief. “No one has. They were destroyed during the unification wars. Even our greatest horticulturists have been unable to breed a true red since then.”

“Although Lady Cadagi Lotebush did manage a faint pink once,” Alder remarked.

Igne'aku smiled again. “This was lost; now it is restored. Wear it as you fight to restore to this world what it has lost.”

Athel took it close and held it gently against her chest. “Thank you.”

“I name you Dragonfriend, and promise you safe passage through our lands.”

Igne'aku turned around and flew away, the bow of the ship dipping down as he leapt into the air and flapped his wings.

“Okay, everyone, I want the sails set while I chart us a course to Wysteria,” Mina shouted. Everyone got to work.

Garh’tik dipped his head in salute and then flew away, rocking the ship again. Vah’mnemn moved to leave as well, but Alder placed his hand on his foot to stop him.

“Please forgive my intrusion, but I have a question I must ask you,” Alder said, trying to compose himself as best he could.

“And if you do no like the answer?” Vah’mnemn warned.

“I suppose then I will still be grateful to know it,” Alder committed himself.

“Speak quickly, then.”

“It is about the magic you use, I wanted to...”

“Use?” Vah’mnemn repeated, cutting him off. “We do not use magic. Mortals use magic, the same way a monkey uses a stick, or an otter uses a rock. It is something that can be given and taken away. Our power is inseparable from us. We
are
magic.”

“Of course, my apologies,” Alder added diplomatically. “But, the men of Wysteria, my kin, they cannot use magic at all. Why is that?”

The dragon snorted, sending a short burst of fire from his nostrils. “Because the link to your god has been severed.”

“Severed? I don’t understand. Is that why we don’t have souls?”

“Soul?” Vah’mnemn repeated. He rolled the word around in his mouth again and again, as if coming to grips with it. Finally he shook his head in disgust. “Only a mortal would attempt to combine together so many different concepts into one simple word. Soul,” he spat. “How disrespectful a term. Never use it again in my presence.”

With a dip of his armored sapphire head, the dragon took off into the air and flew away, leaving Alder with more questions than he started with.

“I believe I may have offended him,” Alder mentioned as Athel came up alongside him.

“Actually, I don’t think you did,” Athel clarified. “Given his distaste for us, that was about as civil as could be hoped for.”

“What makes you say that?”

“If you had actually offended him, he would have eaten you.”

Within an hour, they were on their way. Margaret gave them a generous updraft and soon they found themselves up high in a powerful jetstream, heading towards Wysteria. The Dreadnaught’s unusual design, with three sets of sails held out before her like a horseshoe, allowed her to take full advantage of dead astern winds. With a Stormcaller on board to create a tailwind for her, she was one of the fastest ships in the skies.

As the sun sank low over the seas like a melting pat of butter, Athel and Alder sat with Margaret on the command podium, helping her get everything they had learned about dragons written down before they forgot anything.

Nearby, Privet and Setsuna sat on the main deck, cleaning the ship’s cannon.

Margaret squealed with delight as she rocked her hands back and forth, coaxing the winds to blow a little faster. “Oh, this is so exciting,” she gushed. “When Professor Ancorage sees this, I'll probably get a full semester’s worth of credits towards graduation.” The winds strengthened and the ship surged forward a little faster. “Oh, don’t forget the part where the red one used his fire to heal them.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” Adler said as he scribbled away in her book.