Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen (48 page)

“But, a knight is a male title,” Alder reminded as he walked alongside.

“Ah, good point Jen Erick,” Athel praised, trying to sound grand and lordly. “What would a female knight be called, anyway?”

“A Deigh, perhaps?” Ryin suggested.

Athel snorted. “Then I shall be Lord Deigh Mare, and you,” she said, pointing to Mina, “are Lady Enn Dowed, the beautiful and busty damsel.”

Mina said nothing, only scowled at Athel as she walked alongside them with dripping brown mud-caked fur.

“You mortals sicken me,” Vah’mnemn spat. “Can you not be more serious?”

“Killjoy,” Athel complained.

As they drove the rickshaw up to the edge of the void barrier, Athel pulled back on the reins and brought the oxen to a stop. A very bored looking Stonemaster stood on the other side of the barrier and called out to her. “Ky'a razlu urkwa k'a tu waazk'ah zhanun thakk ‘th wahaat.”

It was only then that Athel realized a fatal flaw in her plan. She didn’t speak Boethian. She had picked up a couple of curse words from Odger, of course. That was the first thing you learned from any new language. Beyond that she could ask where the bathroom was, and that was about it.

Adjusting the scarf around her face, she tilted her head up so he could see her eyes past the brim of her wide muddy hat. Looking very irritated, she yelled out the one swear word she had the most practice saying, “wuk'aziath,” and then held up her wrist, revealing the Stonemaster brand located there.

The guard nodded, as if to show that he thought the protocol was stupid as well, and gave a swift kick to the black, pulsating crystal stuck in the ground next to him.

With a snap and a whirr, the wall of the barrier opened up before them like an iris, and Athel drove the rickshaw inside. The guard ran up to her, obviously ready to ask her some question, so she cut him off by shouting out, “Zh'aaha eth k'a 'hurturl azi 'aha?” Which means, of course, ‘where is the bathroom?’

The guard was a little taken aback by the forcefulness with which she asked, and kind of motioned over to a small, dirty outhouse. Athel tipped the brim of her hat and drove the team over towards it, leaving the guard looking perplexed, his questions unasked and unanswered. Whether or not he noticed some of her red hair poking out from underneath the hat, she never found out.

At the center of the dome was a kind of crystal array that had been stuck down into the ground. The soil cracked and twisted around it, as if the very land was recoiling from its presence. Dark energies flowed up from the array, fanning out into the ceiling of the dome overhead.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Athel began. “First, we'll...”

Vah’mnemn roared and leapt up into the air, shedding the pile of dragon bones which had camouflaged him in all directions, and sending Ryin crashing on top of Athel. Stonemasters fell out of their chairs and spilled coffee all over each other as they scattered before him.

“No, not yet!” Athel called out from underneath Ryin, but it was too late. The dragon tore into the fleeing Stonemasters, tossing them about with a terrifying energy and speed. With glee, he plucked up a fat one and tossed her into the air. Vah’mnem released a fountain of fire which she fell down into, disappearing entirely.

A Stonemaster released from his hand a blast of purple energy that set the air alight as it struck out towards Va’mnemn. The dragon ducked below it and grabbed onto the rickshaw with his clawed feet. Ryin and Athel barely had time to leap off themselves before the rickshaw was thrown at the Stonemaster, landing on top of him.

The other dragons cheered and roared, straining against their bonds as Vah’mnemn scooped up a pair of Stonemasters and bathed them in fire until there was nothing left.

“Break the array!” Mina called out as she found her rifle in the strewn-about contents of the rickshaw. She and Ryin fired off a pair of rounds that cracked it.

Hanner slung Strenner over his back and, unable to find his weapon, simply uprooted a boulder out of the ground with his bare hands and tossed it at the array, breaking off two of the taller protrusions. Black ichor oozed out onto the ground, giving off a horrible noise that was somewhere between a hiss and a baby crying.

Athel pulled out her flintlock pistol and fired it. The tiny seed bounced off the crystalline surface harmlessly and sped off into the distance.

Mina and Ryin turned to scowl at her.

“Sorry, force of habit,” Athel apologized.

Despite the initial success, the initiative was short lived. The rest of the Stonemasters rallied and fought back, releasing obsidian disks of magic that sliced into Vah’mnemn, breaking through his scales. The sapphire-scaled dragon dropped to the ground, mewing in pain as prismatic fire dripped out of his wounds as if it were blood. A pair of Stonemasters channeled their powers into a spare cable lying in a pile and it came to life, slithering through the air and wrapping itself around the injured beast, leaving him in a state worse than he had been found in earlier.

As Mina and Ryin fired again from behind a rock, a sphere of purple energy spat out at them. They dove just in time. The place where they had been standing exploded, the air and earth writhing and twisting into disturbing shapes and colors.

With the dragon subdued, the remaining Stonemasters turned their attention to Mina’s group.

“Oh, we are as good as dead without the dragon,” Ryin screamed as he rolled onto his shoulder and snapped off a shot.

“We need to free the other dragons,” Athel yelled as she jumped away from the outhouse. The structure was crushed as an invisible hand grabbed a hold of it and squeezed.

“How?” Hanner asked, uprooting another boulder and setting it down to create some cover.

Alder was terrified as bits of dirt landed on him, but he forced himself to reach out and grab a long dragon bone that had landed next to him. Getting an idea, he rose to his feet behind Hanner and sprinted towards the damaged array. As he reached it, two purple beams launched at him like arrows. The first clipped the bone in his hands, spinning him around and sending him tumbling him to the ground. The second cut through the place where his head had been and struck the array, shattering it like a mirror. With a flicker, the void barrier winked and died.

Black shakes rushed out from the destroyed crystal, twisting and distorting the ground into horrible mewing shapes. Alder pulled himself to his knees and jammed the end of the bone into the tar. When he pulled it out, the tip of the bone was covered with a bubbling blob of ichor.

As a beam of crimson light streaked by, Alder stumbled over to the nearest dragon, a long and slender creature with black scales like polished onyx. Alder slathered the black shakes onto the cables and it ate through them like acid.

The dragon broke free and spread its wings, releasing a rush of fire that consumed a trio of Stonemasters.

“Good job Alder,” Athel praised, jumping away from the boulder they were using for cover as a crescent of purple light struck it and it exploded.

“Everyone, melt the cables,” Mina ordered, rolling to her feet and taking off in a sprint.

Another enchanted cable wriggled through the air, wrapping itself around the onyx-scaled dragon. As blades of energy sliced into him, he came crashing to the ground with a roar, but by that time Mina had grabbed a bone and used the same method to free another. A third cable was enchanted by the Stonemasters, but by then, Athel and Ryin had each freed a dragon of their own, and Alder had managed to free another himself.

When Hanner freed a fifth dragon, the battle became a whirlwind of dragonfire, flapping wings, and blasts of void magic. Mina’s group focused on freeing more and more dragons, and by the time they reached the last one, the fighting was over.

Vah’mnemn limped over to where Athel was the others were standing and glared at the dragon bone in her hands.

“Please don’t eat us,” Mina pleased, tossing her own bone down to the ground.

“Follow me,” the dragon growled, prismatic spittle falling from the corner of his lips.

“He’s going to take us somewhere and eat us,” Ryin whispered worriedly

“He’s not going to eat us,” Athel assured him. “At least...I don’t think so.”

Reluctantly, as if performing some unsavory task, Vah’mnemn took them over to one of the larger dragons with creamy white pearl-like scales and introduced them. This dragon’s fire burned differently than the others in a way that was difficult to explain. The different colors within the flame were more fused together, creating a fire that hung at that very point at which all colors recombine into white. It was strangely hypnotic to look at, and they had to avert their eyes to maintain their concentration.

“Igne'aku, these are the mortals who helped us. The red one is Aahthull, daughter of Milia, and this is her pet Alldurh...”

“Red one?” Athel repeated.

“Pet?” Alder protested.

“...these other two are called Hahner, son of Quetah and Wryan, son of Maltua, and the white one is their slave, Meenah, daughter of Jabint.”

“That sounds about right,” Ryin chuckled.

“Slave?” Mina scoffed. “I'll have you know I outrank all these bums!”

Vah’mnemn craned his neck around and spat fire at her feet. “Do not correct me, mortal!”

Igne'aku nodded patiently and motioned for Vah’mnemn to step aside. “It has been an age since I had cause to thank a mortal,” Igne'aku said graciously. His voice was strong but melodic, like waves breaking on a lake shore.

They were all a little taken aback, and it took a moment for them to remember to bow and accept the gratitude.

“You must forgive Vah’mnemn. He is still young, and going through a phase. It shall pass, we hope, when he reaches maturity in a few thousand years.”

“You mean he’s like a teenager?” Ryin snickered.

“My kind have not meddled in the affairs outside our lands for a long time,” Igne'aku explained, the white fire of his eyes spilling out like long white eyebrows. “This was meant to be a place of rest for us, you see. But it would seem that war has found us while we slumbered.”

Talking to something so large and powerful and ancient was daunting. There was a long pause while they waited for him to continue, until after a while it became obvious that he was waiting for them to offer up details. Unwilling to do it herself, Mina grabbed Athel by the shoulder and shoved her forward.

“It would seem that your enemy is also ours,” Athel began, not sure exactly what to say. “The Stonemasters of Boeth have created some kind of spell that has driven the seas wild. I mean, they were always dangerous, but now they are eating away at all the islands, threatening to consume them.”

“Always?” Igne'aku repeated. “No, only in recent memory is this the case. For ages, the mortal children of the gods traveled in safety upon the waters, protected by the water tribes.”

“They did?” Athel blinked. “I've never heard of that, and my people are considered fairly long lived...”

Igne'aku raised an eyebrow at her and she cut herself off, realizing how silly she must sound to him.

“What happened to the water tribes?” Alder asked, speaking up as best he could.

“They opposed the formation of your League, and so they were wiped out. Their fragment of the light was lost, dissolved into the seas. Those that came to their defense were severely punished as well.” Igne'aku tilted his head. “You are a daughter of Milia, are you not? How can you be unaware of what happened to your gods?”

Vah’mnemn flapped his wings and stamped his feet into the soil, knocking the mortals over. “This is a waste of time! We have been attacked; we must retaliate.”

“I agree,” added Garh’tik, a larger dragon with emerald scales. “It is not enough to simply expel them from our lands. We must take the fight to their places of safety, else they feel emboldened to come again.”

Igne'aku nodded thoughtfully. “The children of Ish who attacked us, do you know where they make berth?”

“I’d love to help,” Athel said. “But we don’t know how the Stonemasters bring the spice here, or where they make it.”

“Perhaps we do.” Alder said as he knelt down and drew out a sketch of the Dragon Isles in the sand with his finger. “Remember back when Odger marked off several secret locations on your charts? Well, the largest marking he made was here, about a hundred leagues south-south east of these lands. Since it so close to here, it is most likely the place where most of the spice is manufactured, and I’d guess this is where the attack was staged from as well.”

“How could you know that, Aldi?” Athel asked, impressed.

“I memorized the chart,” Alder admitted as he wiped off his hands with his handkerchief. “Plus, that is the direction the ships were headed when we came across the encampment, so it seems a reasonable assumption.”

Igne'aku raised up his scaley head, his stoic expression giving way to something not entirely unlike anticipation. “Alldurh,” he asked. “Can you lead us there?

Alder thought for a moment. “I suppose so.”

* * *

“Wooo hooooo!” Athel screamed in delight as she rode atop the dragon Kyrkk'ia. Her mighty wings beat up and down, propelling them forward with frightening speed. Athel’s red hair whipped about in the wind. The thrill of flying was so unlike the soothing pace of sailing. It was exhilarating and primal, and for a moment it crowded out the weight hanging on her heart, leaving no room for it. “This is incredible!” she screamed, lifting her arms up and taking in the experience.

“Would you please stop doing that?” Kyrkk'ia requested politely.

“Sorry.”

Athel leaned forward, taking in the sensation of touching the dragon’s scales. They glittered like polished opal. The fire burning within pulsed like a mighty heartbeat, and yet, the scales themselves were icy cool to the touch.

To her right, she saw Alder riding Garh’tik, his bony arms clinging to the dragon’s neck in utter terror. Amid the swarm of Dragons flying around them, Athel caught others carrying Ryin, and Mina. Hanner rode atop another dragon, holding Strenner up above his head, the baby cooing and squealing wildly with joy.

They seemed to be flying over open ocean and empty skies, but every now and then, Alder would tap Garh’tik on the neck and point out a course correction. Athel was impressed that Alder could do it from memory, she watched him tapping his foot as they went, counting down the minutes and seconds, despite his fear. Athel trusted her husband, but a small part of her couldn’t help but worry. If Alder was wrong, there was a very real chance they could be eaten.