Chris Pierson - Dezra's Quest

"Well, that didn't work," he said sourly.

"Hold on," Dezra said, raising the torch. "Maybe if I try again-"

Another branch swung down. She felt the wind as its leaves whipped past her face, and stopped in her tracks.

"Or maybe not," she muttered.

She fell back, rubbing her forehead. Borlos winced as, slowly, the dryad started pulling him back in.

Then came another voice, behind her. "Dezra!" it called. "Borlos! Where art thou?"

She spun. "Trephas?" she shouted. "Over here! Hurry!"

They waited, listening to the sound of approaching hoof-beats. At last, Trephas emerged from the darkness, armed with torch and lance. Behind him rode Arhedion; at the rear, red-faced and puffing, jogged Caramon.

"What in the Abyss is going on?" Caramon asked as he stumbled toward Dezra. He stopped suddenly, gaping at Borlos. Only the bard's forearm and face poked through the bark now.

"Hi, big guy," Borlos said. "You happen to bring a hatchet with you?"

"No!" Trephas barked. "Don't harm the tree. It will only make things worse."

"Uh-oh," Dezra muttered.

The centaur looked at her sharply. "I thought so," he grumbled. "Only pain could have broken the spell of sleeping the dryad cast on us. What didst thou do to it?"

Dezra lowered her torch. "I burned it, a little."

Trephas winced. "Pray thou didn't hurt her too badly, then," he said. Dropping his lance, he strode toward the tree. A branch lashed down at him, but he caught it in his hand. "Be easy, Pallidice," he said. "It's me, Trephas."

The branch slipped free and withdrew into the heights. Trephas laid a hand on the tree's bark. "Oak-maiden," he said softly. "The human isn't yours to take. Release him."

A musical voice called from the tree. "I will not!" it huffed. "I love him. He wants to be with me."

"I don't!" Borlos protested.

"There," Trephas said. "Did you hear him? Release him, Pallidice, and come forth."

"Oh… very well."

The tree split open. Borlos tumbled out, naked and glistening. Arhedion hurried forward, helping him rise and stagger away from the tree. Dezra tossed the bard his breechcloth. While he was girding himself, his face red, the dryad emerged from the oak.

Her green hair shimmered in the firelight as she strode toward Trephas. He knelt before her, and she flung her arms about his neck, kissing him repeatedly.

"Trephas!" she exclaimed. "Oh, how wonderful! My tree's gained many rings since I saw you last!"

Arhedion laughed out loud. "She remembers thee well enough."

"So it seems," Trephas said, chuckling. Flushed, he grabbed the dryad's shoulders and held her away from him. "Pallidice, I need your help."

She looked at him, wide-eyed. "Truly?"

"Truly."

The dryad shrieked with delight and spun in a circle, her hair flying outward and revealing her dark, nubile body. When she stopped, she planted her fists on her hips and smiled at Trephas.

"Tell me, then," she said. "What is it you want?"

"Well, why didn't you come to me, instead of sneaking around in the dark?" Pallidice asked when Trephas finished explaining. "It would have saved a lot of bother."

"We were going to see you tomorrow," Trephas replied patiently. " You're the one who put us to sleep, and lured him to your tree." He nodded at Borlos, who looked away. The bard was dressed now, but he was very quiet.

Pallidice shrugged. "Don't blame me. You camped too close to my tree. Would you blame a spider for eating a moth that flew into its web?"

"No one's blaming anybody," Trephas said. "We want your help. Will you take us to Guithern?"

The dryad's face turned serious. It was a striking change from her childish mien. "You say the Wood itself's in danger from this… Grimbough thing?"

"Aye," Trephas replied. "And if Lord Chrethon wins, nothing will be spared. Not even your tree, Pallidice."

The dryad glanced at the great oak. A determined look settled on her face. "Very well, Trephas. I'll help you. But understand this-I do so only to save my tree. The paths my people travel aren't for mortals to walk."

"I understand," Trephas said. "I wouldn't ask, were the need not so great."

The dryad furrowed her brow. "There's one problem, though. I can take only one man inside with me. But never fear," she added, seeing the centaur's face fall. "If you let me return to my tree, I'll find help. Return to your camp and finish your rest. My sisters and I shall meet you here in the morning."

"Sisters?" Borlos blurted, alarmed.

Pallidice laughed. "Of course, my love! These woods are filled with dryads-and won't they be happy to see you!"

Tired though Borlos was, when they returned to camp he didn't sleep another wink.

"There are people," the bard told Caramon, "who'd consider this a sign they were about to enter paradise."

Caramon chuckled. He and his companions faced four dryads now. Pallidice was even more luminous in daylight. Her hair shimmered like emeralds, her eyes like amethysts. Her skin-she still wore not a stitch of clothing-was utterly unblemished. Her three companions were just as beautiful, each in her own way.

"I can see where they'd get that idea," Caramon replied wistfully. "If I'd met these lasses when I was young, I might still be living in one of these trees."

"I think I'm going to be ill," Dezra grumbled.

Trephas, who'd been speaking with Arhedion, turned to face the dryads. "Oak-maidens," he said, bowing. "This is an honor-I know thy kind don't often gather in such numbers in the open."

Two of the dryads nudged each other and giggled, stealing quick glances at Borlos. Pallidice nodded. "How could we do otherwise, with our trees in peril?" she replied. "Now, come. Gamaia will take you to her tree, Trephas. Tessonda will take the old one, and Elirope will see to the girl. As for you," she added, looking at Borlos, "I'm keeping you to myseif."

"Oh," the bard said, smiling weakly. "How nice."

Trephas clapped Arhedion's shoulder in farewell, then let his dryad, Gamaia, guide him into the woods. Caramon went in a different direction, his face red as a summer plum as Tessonda took his hand and led him away. Dezra went last, following Elirope. When the others were gone, Arhedion took his leave as well, turning south and cantering away into the forest.

"Ah," Pallidice said, staring at Borlos through thick, green eyelashes. "My dear one. At last we're alone."

"Uh, well," the bard stammered. "That is, I-"

The dryad spread her arms. "Come to me, my love."

"All right," Borlos said.

He embraced her, his lips seeking hers. He ached with pleasure as their mouths locked together. When they finally parted-he had no idea when that was, except that it was still morning-she led him, laughing, toward her tree. The tree split open, revealing a narrow passage of living wood. Borlos followed her in, glassy-eyed and grinning. He was fully aware she'd cast a glamor over him with her kiss.

On the other hand, he thought, who gives a damn?

Sap flowed about him. She took him in her arms, and they kissed once more. As it had last night, the tree closed around them; this time, he didn't even think of escape. Wood sealed shut, then bark, and all was dark.

"What… happens… now?" he asked between kisses.

"This," Pallidice said.

The ground opened beneath their feet, swallowing them both.

Later, Caramon managed to convince himself he hadn't enjoyed a moment of his time inside the dryad's oak. At the time, though, he forgot everything, aware only of her touch, scent and taste, and of the undulating movements of the tree and its roots as they pushed him and Tessonda down into the earth.

Then, with a shout, he fell through open air, dropping with a clatter of armor and weapons onto solid ground. Tessonda landed nimbly beside him.