Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen (21 page)

Athel help up her hand. She could see right through it. She looked down again. Her long, segmented ponytail simply hung down beneath her and vanished into the basin.

Am I a spirit?

Athel flung her hands around frantically. They passed right through a pair of sticks and a hanging pot without interacting with them at all.

Am I dead?

Athel clapped her hands together, and was relieved to find that she could still touch herself. She wasn’t dead; she was a shadow. Somehow she had been changed like the villagers could do. Something was humming against the skin of her neck. She reached up and found a collar of strange metal had been placed there.

She couldn’t touch anything, but she could still hear. Rhythmic breathing that was not her own. She realized that she was not alone in this room. She writhed herself around and found Naanie sitting quietly in a corner, smoking a pipe.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” he said regretfully.

“If you were sorry you wouldn’t have put me in here,” Athel snapped, tugging at the collar.

“Tidnaa commands it, I have no place to object.”

“Oh, of course not. I mean, just because Tidnaa forsook you and your people and left them exposed to invaders, it totally makes sense that you would click your heels and obey the minute he wants something from you.”

Naanie stood up, anger in his eyes. His arm became shadow and he grabbed her neck. Athel coughed and gagged as he choked her, her hands feebly grasping his wrist. His strength was astonishing. “You will not dishonor Tidnaa The Cunning in my presence,” he warned.

Athel couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow. She could feel her face flush red from the pressure. Finally, he released her and she gagged and wheezed.

“What...” Athel hacked. “What has Tidnaa done to earn such loyalty from you?” She asked spitefully.

“He does not have to earn it,” Naanie said as he sat back down. “He is my god. He has had my loyalty from the moment I was born.”

Athel snorted derisively.

“Let me ask
you
something,” Naanie said, stuffing some fresh tobacco into his pipe. “If Milia appeared before you with a task, would you not do it?”

“That is different,” Athel insisted.

“Is it?”

“Yes, if Milia commanded me to do something...I would...I mean I would first need to know that...” Athel trailed off. Despite her protests, she could not deny that she trusted Milia implicitly. Were their situations reversed, she would not question a direct command either.

“I guess I would do it without question.”

“You are very honest with yourself,” Naanie observed as he watched her. “You have my respect.”

“What does Tidnaa want with me?”

“That is not for me to ask.”

“Then guess. What does he want with me?”

Naanie sighed heavily. “I am not sure, but from the way he spoke, it seemed obvious to me that he plans on trading you.”

“Trading me? Since when do gods need to trade?”

Naanie shrugged.

“Did he say to who?”

“I do not know, but it seemed very important to him. He seemed almost desperate.”

Athel couldn’t wrap her head around the situation. “Can a god even feel desperation?”

“That is not for me to ask.”

“This is crazy, Naanie, don’t you see?” she asserted, waving her hands around. “Why would a god need a mortal to trade? What could he possibly trade for? It’s not like the gods need anything from us, so why would a god need to bargain with someone else like this? None of this makes sense. There is something wrong about this whole situation.”

“Do all of your people speak this much?” Naanie asked to silence her. He was obviously becoming irritated at this line of thought. “My people are under constant raids from the Baakuu. You may have saved our crops for a day, but what will we do in a week? Or a month? Don’t you see? My people need Tidnaa’s protection, and he promised me that if we deliver you to his agent, we will be protected again.”

Athel thought long and hard on this.

Why can’t these things be simple? It would be so much easier if he was just a villian, but he’s not. He’s just a man protecting his family and his people.

There was a distant rumble, followed by chirping of birds. Naanie stood up and threw open the cloth door to the hut. Great pillars of smoke were rising to the east. Already, the other villagers were gathering themselves together.

“Gruuokar'u nouut touula'u,” Naanie swore. “The Baakuu have come again.”

Athel twisted around as best she could to see what was happening. “Ash Summoners?”

Naanie nodded. “They summon the spirits of their ancestors to fight for them. They are burning the eastern forest to create enough ash for their spells.”

Naanie left the door open as he rushed out, shouting to his people in their native tongue. Athel kicked her feet and tried to position herself head-down so she could reach the ground. After quite a bit of squirming, made more difficult by the hem of her dress falling down over her face from being upside down, she managed to reach a hand to the ground.

Bark Beetles, my hand just passes through everything. I can’t link to the plants.

Screams of fright came up from the villagers as the Baakuu entered the village. They were terrifying to behold. Their skin was black like charcoal, with white stripes painted on like tigers. Their white eyes and fangs peeked out between long ash-like dreadlocks.

Like wild animals they ran through the village, tearing apart dwellings, hacking down laundry lines, and smashing anything of value they could find. The villagers huddled together in shadow form as their livelihood was tossed about and spoiled. One by one, the villagers lean-to’s were torn apart and scattered by the howling invaders.

Athel reached out hard with her mind, trying to connect with the root-systems she was sure were just below the surface of the hard clay, but she could not sense anything.

This is bad. If these Baakuu find me, I may never get back to my ship.

She could feel the panic setting in. Her heart was racing, and she could feel cold sweat forming on her brow. This felt wrong. This felt rootless. This felt like that cave back at Thesda.

Athel fought to keep herself calm as she listened to the noises of nearby huts being ransacked. She steepled her hands together and attempted to meditate.

Great Mother Milia, please send help.

Suddenly Athel felt a small tugging on the hem of her dress. She looked down and saw Nuutrik staring up at her, his body shadowed.

“Oh, very funny, Milia,” Athel groaned, looking up.

Athel grabbed at the collar around her neck, trying as best she could to indicate that she needed it removed. Nuutrik pointed out the door.

Athel shook her head and tried again, making a snapping motion with her hands then pointing eagerly at the collar.

Nuutrik shook his head again and pointed out the door.

“Bah, stupid kid, why didn’t you learn common?” Athel huffed, folding her arms in frustration as she slowly spun in the air.

Nuutrik waved his arms angrily and pointed again. This time, she looked and saw what he was pointing at. His carved bauble was laying on the ground out there, amidst the feet of the Baakuu as they ran this way and that.

“Oh, Ooooohhh,” Athel said, finally understanding. “You'll get me go if I save your necklace thingy, is that it?”

The boy pointed again and she nodded in agreement. With a chortle of joy, he reached up with his shadowed hand and touched the collar. The humming stopped and Athel was suddenly solid again. She came crashing down into the basin with a metallic thud.

Outside, only a few huts remained. The Kwili villagers huddled together in little groups. Many of the Baakuu warriors had taken to stabbing their spears into the shadowed people. It did no damage, but they delighting in making their prey simper in fear anyhow.

When Athel strode out from the main hut barefoot, pistol and saber drawn, all the Baakuu warriors paused, as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

There were only a dozen or so, yet Athel was amazed at the amount of damage they had already done in so short a time.

Beneath her feet, little Juupa rootlets grew up to the surface and she silently conversed with them. Given how many times the Baakuu had burned their siblings, securing their consent was predictably easy once she could get a word in edgewise.

One of the Baakuu threw a spear at her head, but a fresh Juupa stalk grew up, quick as an arrow, and blocked the shot. The Baakuu looked at one another, impressed.

Athel turned to Naanie, where he huddled with the others. “Look, I don’t know Tidnaa, I've never met him, but if he is not willing to defend his children, then I say he doesn’t deserve your worship.”

The Kwili looked at each other uncertainly.

Athel saluted with her saber, placing the crossbar over her heart. “If Tidnaa won’t stand up for you, then you'll have to do it yourselves.”

A Baakuu warrior rushed at Athel, howling wildly as he thrust his spear at her. Just like Privet had taught her, she ducked under the blow and reversed her grip. Her blade passed through his legs and severed them both at the knee. As he crumbled to the ground, his body and clothes disintegrated into a pile of black dust.

Their bodies are made from ash.

With a howl, the Baakuu warriors charged. Athel held her ground and fired her pistol. The seed exploded in midair into a growth of stranglevines that ensnared them, wrenching them to the ground. She clenched her fist and the vines sprouted great thorns that pierced their bodies. The warriors disintegrated into mounds of ash. Casually, she strolled among the remains while she reloaded and kicked Nuutrik’s bauble over to him with the tip of her foot.

Beyond the edge of the village, a lone, robed figure stood. He took off his cowl to get a good look at her.

“You are no Kwili,” he called out, his voice clearly audible despite the distance.

“How observant of you,” Athel quipped.

“So why fight for them?”

She looked over her shoulder and shot an accusatory glance at Naanie. “Because they won’t fight for themselves.”

The Ash Summoner shrugged and raised his hands. The piles of ash around her were drawn up into the air, where they swirled around in bizarre patterns. More ash was drawn from the fire pits, and new bodies of ash were created. When the dust settled, a full forty-eight warriors stood before her.

“Last chance to back down,” the Ash Summoner warned.

Athel felt a tug on the hem of her dress. Glancing over, she saw Nuutrik standing next to her, solid and resolute. Naanie called out to him from the shadows, but the boy held his ground. Athel chuckled and gave Nuutrik a wink before handing him her pistol.

“Back down to someone who uses dust?” Athel taunted. “Not a chance. My trees eat dust for breakfast...literally.”

The Baakuu warriors gave off a feral howl as they charged. Their white eyes glowed ferociously with an eerie corpse light.

A dozen spears sailed towards Athel and Nuutrik, but with a twist of her bare foot, a wall of Juupa trees sprouted up to protect them, and the spears embedded themselves into the hard bark.

Athel slammed her palm down on the ground and Juupa trees shot up out of the ground like spears beneath the sprinting Baakuu warriors. The hard pointed tips effortlessly pierced through their ashen bodies and lifted them aloft, like puppets attached to sticks. Athel swished her hand and the wall of trees before her parted enough for Nuutrik to shoot her pistol through the gap. The seed grew into vines, pulling together the remaining warriors and pinning them to the ground. Fresh Juupa trees grew up beneath the pile of squirming warriors, skewering them where they lay. All the dead warriors fell apart into heaps of ash.

Athel was breathing heavier now. She patted Nuutrik on the head to thank him. Many of the villagers became solid and walked over to stand beside them. Naanie called to them in their tongue, obviously trying to dissuade them, but they stood resolutely.

The Ash Summoner lifted his arms, and the piles of ash returned to him. More streams of ash came in from all directions, until a tornado of cinders swirled above him. With it, he formed hundreds of warriors. An entire army of Baakuu now stood before them. The Ash Summoner stumbled and swayed, barely able to stay on his feet from the strain of it.

With a roar like thunder, the army charged forward. Hundreds of spears sailed up into the air, nearly blocking out the sun.

Athel placed both palms on the ground and grew a ring of trees around her and the solid villagers. The tips grew together into a dome that absorbed the torrent of spears until it resembled a pin cushion.

Sweat dripping off her chin, Athel yelled defiantly, and a wave of trees fanned out from the ring. An entire forest of Juupa trees burst out of the ground beneath the Baaku warriors, piercing through their legs, arms, and torsos, but on they came. Athel grew a wall of trees but the Baakuu climbed up over them, only to find themselves run through by fresh trees the moment they hit the ground.

Baakuu warriors sliced holes in the dome and began pouring in. The villagers fought back with whatever they had, attacking with rocks and sticks, and pulling up spears from fallen Baakuu.

The remaining villagers left the shadows and ran to their aid, leaving only Naanie alone and incorporeal as he begged them not to.

The Baakuu warriors mercilessly thrust their spears into the Kwili, but hit nothing but shadow. One villager would stab a Baakuu from behind while he attempted to stab a Kwili shadow before him. A warrior would slice at a villager’s head, only to have it pass straight through, while the villager’s solid arms would stab the warrior in the gut. Even Chief Maaturro joined in, howling like a maniac as he punched a Baakuu warrior in the gut, his fist piercing the man and coming out his back before his body disintegrated into dust.

All throughout the dome, Baakuu burst into clouds of black powder. The very air became choked and dark.

Athel’s body was sluggish and heavy from exertion. She blocked a spear thrust coming from the side with her blade, but another caught her in the back. The sharp tip managed to pierce through her armor. She hollered with pain and turned around to stab her attacker, but she was too slow; he had already withdrawn his spear and spun it in his grip, cracking her on the side of the face with the back end.