Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen (59 page)

“Whose they?” Setsuna coughed painfully, coddling her shoulder.

“And now that I've fought you, I think I dislike you even more than before. I didn’t think that was possible.”

Setsuna groaned in pain. “Aww, thank you. You always say the sweetest things.”

“If I die from this,” Athel griped, holding her injured leg. “My ghost is going to follow you around and haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“If that is the case,” Setsuna responded, clutching her shoulder tighter. “Your ghost is going to see a lot of really disturbing things.”

They both chuckled painfully.

“Oh, it hurts to laugh.”

As they lay on the field moaning, the head official waddled up through the forest of trees and looked over them.

“Looks like we'll call it a draw. Get these two to the infirmary.”

Three days later, the airship fleet gathered around Wysteria parted, allowing a very unusually shaped ship to take the lead. No sails or masts propelled it. Instead, gill-like ridges protruded along its length. It was the Seawolf, the royal airship for the throne of Stretis. Gold gleamed from every surface and cannon. On the prow of its deck stood Erin Strelan, the newly crowned Queen of Stretis. Behind her in perfect rows stood the Agnita Kaito, the most powerful Stormcallers in the world. Never before had all three hundred of them been gathered together in one place. Erin raised her royal scepter, and the Stormcallers moved in unison, spinning their arms in great circles.

Queen Strelan spun her scepter with both hands, faster and faster. As she did so, the Agnita Kaito mirrored her movements. “My brothers and sisters of the wind, for five centuries no force has ever faced our people in battle. And do you know why? Because for the five centuries prior, no force faced us and staved off obliteration!”

The Agnita Kaito gave a hurrah.

“The other islands have grown presumptuous, mistaking their dim candles for a roaring fire. Today, we will remind them what true power looks like. Today, we will remind them what happens to those that oppose Nehirana, the god of the heavens themselves!”

A hurricane gathered overhead Wysteria, a swirling and broiling of the heavens. It began as a rough line against the horizon, as if the edge of the world had become rough and pulsating. The winds picked up, causing the larger trees to sway dangerously. Bridges and zip lines were stretched to the breaking point as the giant Nallorn trees swayed precariously back and forth, nearly crashing into one another. Inside their houses among the branches, families clung together in fear as their dwellings swung hundreds of feet in every direction. Dishes and books were thrown against the walls with terrifying speed. Doors flung open and windows shattered, threatening to swallow anyone who ventured too close. Mists of stinging rain pelted the faces and necks of crying children as they clung to their mothers and fathers. Against the might of the storm, they felt as small as grains of sand.

As lightning crackled and wind howled, the airships hung undisturbed. The powerful magic of the Stormcallers created a bubble of calm air around which the torrential forces flowed like stream waters around a rock.

The citizens of Clover Hills looked on in horror as the shrieking seawater at the cliffs down below began to recede farther and farther, revealing a seafloor none of them had ever seen before. Bone-bleached sand and half-melted rocks twisted into writhing, agonized shapes. The sea withdrew for miles. What had once been sea was now a desert of dust and goblin-shaped rocks as far as the eye could see.

The horizon was rising, growing closer, as if the world itself was being rolled towards them. As it approached, it took on a dark green and blue color, white at its edges.

It was a tidal wave, generated by the incomparably powerful winds of the Agnita Kaito. Tendrils of acidic seawater reached out from its form, as if it were made of a million octopi. The air hissed where it touched, a roaring sizzle like countless raindrops.

Fear and panic spread through the link of the forest. Terrified hearts instinctively looked for the voice of the Queen to organize and protect them, but there was none. The people of the east forest fled in terror as the tidal wave approached their shores. Children clung to their parents as they scrambled across swaying bridges, climbing over one another as they moved from tree to tree. Many of the younger trees uprooted themselves and tried to make their way further inland. But it was all in vain. Although it appeared to be moving slowly, it was just a trick of the eye. The tidal wave was moving far faster than any mortal could ever hope to run.

As families and trees screamed, stampeding away from the approaching wall of water that rose a thousand feet above the ground, the seawater released a great, starving moan. Deep and throbbing, it was horrible to hear, rising above the clamor of the howling forest.

Impelled forward by incomprehensibly powerful winds, the crest of the wave folded forward, like a great, open maw with jagged teeth.

The tidal wave hit the first rows of trees as if they were not even there. In the blink of an eye, the forest was no longer high in the air but underwater. Trees and houses bleached white, then came apart, dissolving into nothing as the seawater consumed them.

Within five seconds, the town of Clover Hills and everyone who lived there simply ceased to exist.

The death wails of the dead spread through the link of the forest. It felt to them as if their very souls were being carved in half, flayed off layer by agonizing layer. Mothers and aunts felt the anguish of their siblings and children as they died. Thrtoughout the island, many of the elderly Matrons collapsed, their hearts unable to bear the pain they felt through the trees.

Farther and farther inland the wave moved, neither slowing nor reducing as it went. Many of the larger trees were hit waist high, tendrils of acidic water gleefully wrapping around the upper branches and drawing the top half down into the water, even as the bottom half dissolved.

As it worked its way up the cottonwood foothills, it reduced in size but not speed. Trees were lopped off where the seawater touched them, falling down into the squealing, broiling mass. Some of the families managed to make it to the high grounds of the Juniper Plateau, only to be snatched off by long, thirsting tendrils that dragged them screaming into the rushing waters below.

The wave crested and crashed as it rose higher up the slopes. It was now a thin slick of mud, only a few inches deep as it crossed the Zinnia Meadow. Stampedeing people were swept off their feet. Whole trees were dragged down to the ground, tendrils of water pouncing on top of them like hungry predators.

Finally, the water came to an agonizingly slow stop. It slammed into the base of the Cliffrose mesa, steam rising as the very earth dissolved beneath its cruel touch. The edge of the seawater clawed into the ground, as if trying to pull itself just a few more feet forward to the next tree or the next fleeing Wysterian.

When the water finally began to recede, the forest shuddered and wailed at the magnitude of the damage. A full fifteen miles of forest had been destroyed, from the Nettle Mountains to the north, all the way to the Lucerne Islets to the south. A gash nearly a hundred miles long and fifteen miles wide. Fully half of the entire eastern forest, including two cities and four towns, no longer existed.

Its mission complete, The Seawolf withdrew and headed back for Stretis. Most of the Agnita Kaito had collapsed from exertion. Queen Strelan looked back over her shoulder at the ruined coastline, smug satisfaction on her face.

The rest of the Navy fleet moved towards the now-barren shoreline, hundreds of troop transports ready to deploy their Marines onto the island as soon as the waters cleared.

The winds were mostly calm as the artificial storm dissipated, so most of the ships moved slowly, their sails sagging in the weak winds. The one exception was a little black Navy patrol boat whose sails were full and bellowed as it came up at the fleet from behind, then passed through the formations, trying do do everything it could to not draw too much attention to itself.

“Do you think you can go any faster?” Athel yelled out at Margaret as she clung to the shrouds, her long red hair whipping about.

Margaret stood on her carpeted podium, beads of sweat running down her face as she created the powerful windtunnel that was propelling them forward. “I’m at my limit as it is,” Margaret shouted back. “All the currents around here are furious at being used in the storm. I've never felt anything like it before. They're actually resisting me.”

The Dreadnaught sped past a squadron of fifteen interceptors, their crews looking out at them in bewilderment as they continued on. Ryin and Captain Evere saluted the Navy ships as smartly as they could. They didn’t have to fool them for long, just long enough.

“We better not risk it, Margaret,” Mina yelled over the winds as she tightened the blank. “The sails are full to bursting as it is.”

The Dreadnaught swung wide and passed alongside a long Bireme from Tirrak. Instead of cannons, it had tall curved mirrors that the Tirrakians used to release concentrated beams of sunlight. Many of the lizard-skinned sailors called out to them, their flagman signaling them to stop. As they sailed past, Captain Evere waved his captain’s hat and touched his fist to his elbow, indicating that his ship was under special orders. Beams of light flashed from the Bireme ahead towards the next formation of Navy vessels.

“They're signaling ahead,” Captain Evere called out. Hoist the colors, that might buy us a little more time.”

A sudden cross-wind knocked Margaret to the deck, her hands groping around for her glasses.

Setsuna, for her part, sat calmly on a crate, sucking on a lollipop, as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

“Margaret, look out!” Privet bellowed, pointing ahead.

Margaret rose to her feet and put on her glasses, only to see the enormous form of a Navy Destroyer growing larger and larger in front of them.

Margaret created a down draft and they slipped down between a formation of three destroyers, barely avoiding clipping their rudders. The destroyer flagmen signaled them with two red flags and an orange flag, a clear message for the Dreadnaught to drop canvas.

“They don’t look too pleased with us,” Hanner chuckled as he leaned against the ship’s winch.

“Aye, they always get suspicious of a ship out of formation,” Captain Evere noted.

“It doesn’t help that we're the most wanted ship in the twelve seas,” Ryin commented as he jerry-rigged a mast from a ladder and Pop’s mop handle. Moving over to the gunwhale, Ryin waved their Navy Patrol Ship flag back and forth as conspicuously as he could.

“Do you think that will pacify them?” Ader asked as he adjusted the halyard lines.

There was a crack like thunder and Ryin brought the flag back down, a smoking hole punctured right through the center of it.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Privet quipped as he jumped over the capstan and grabbed his rifle.

Two more balls of lead sped out towards them, one striking the Dreadnaught in the poop deck, tearing apart the captain’s cabin, the other passing through the upper sail, tearing a hole in the canvas.

Everyone could feel the ship slow down. Athel primed her pistol and fired a seed at the sail before the ship. The seed burst into vines that wove themselves in and around the hole, sealing it shut.

The Dreadnaught passed by a pair of enormous ironclad warships. Gun ports were being opened, rows and rows of 48-pounder long guns were being run out and readied to fire.

In an act of defiance, Hanner put one foot up dramatically on a bollard, holding their one cannon like a shotgun and fired off a round, the lead ball bouncing harmlessly against the iron plating of the closer vessel.

As the Dreadnaught sped past the ironclads, they both turned in unison to their starboard side, lining up for a double-broadside.

“Everyone down, this one is going to hurt!” Mina yelled.

“Jink us to one side, lass, or they'll tear us to ribbons!” Captain Evere yelled at Margaret.

“I’m trying,” Margaret complained, falling down on one knee.

“Do something Margaret!” Mina yelled as she climbed up the sterncastle.

“Will everyone stop yelling at me?” Margaret screamed as she covered her ears, her glasses falling off her face.

Setsuna took one last lick on her lollipop then hopped down from the crate. “Ugh, you people are amateurs. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Bounding up to the coachroof, Setsuna stood defiantly before the two battleships as they were enveloped in the black smoke from their cannons. A hearbeat later, the sound of one-hundred sixty of their guns roared in unison. Behind the sound, a tightly-packed hail of cannonfire streaked straight at the Dreadnaught. Setsuna took some powder out of her coin purse and clapped her hands together in a poof of kaleidoscopic smoke. As she pulled her hands apart the air aft of the Dreadnaught was torn apart into a gate.

The cluster of red-hot shells flew into the gate then reappeared, speeding out the other end, positioned directly behind the ironclads. The shells lacerated the sails and rudders of the mighty warships. Warning bells rung out and sailors yelled and screamed at the unexpected attack.

Slowly, the pair of ironclads listed out of formation as the Dreadnaught sped out of range.

Before them, a trio of Navy frigates were coming, ready to attack.

“You, ferrus guy, heat this up,” Setsuna ordered, kicking a loose cannonball across the deck to Ryin.

Ryin took the ball and held it in his fingers. The tatoos on Ryin’s arms glowed brightly and the cannonball began to hiss and squeal as it heated to a red-hot glow.

“Now,” Setsuna ordered, creating a gate. Ryin tossed the ball in and it reappeared above the first frigate’s mainsail, falling right through it and setting the canvas ablaze. Sailors and marines scrambled to put out the spreading fire as the other two frigates closed in.

Athel leaned out over the side of the ship, hanging onto the shrouds with one hand while aiming her pistol with the other.