They didn’t, but a few dozen steps later, they did. A rumble of feet and the cacophony of shouting voices all jumbled into one frenzy.
Martin stopped, surprised. He had heard a similar sound only once before, three years ago, when Edgar the pig had taken particular offense to bath time and charged right through the Cabbage Cart’s common room during the evening hours, when the tables were at their fullest.
“Like I said, mad as loons,” said Podgin.
They resumed their descent. The shouting grew louder with each turn of the staircase until the steps leveled out into a narrow hall. There was another archway up ahead, where dozens of short shadows ran by.
“We won’t have to worry about sneaking,” said Illo.
At the end of the corridor, they pressed up against the walls and peered out. A wider hall intersected with theirs, well lit by evenly spaced windows across the way. Dryads ran by them like floodwaters, short, twiggy people with wild hair and pointy ears. Martin had never seen anything so unexpected in his life.
“None of them are soldiers,” Aguilax pointed out. “No spears, no ranks. These are ordinary dryad folk.”
“They’re scared of something,” said Martin. “We won’t make it far without getting trampled.”
“No, but maybe…” Illo held up a hand. “Wait. Here comes a fat one. I think I can grab him. Get ready to hold him down and keep him quiet if he squeals.”
Quick as a cat, she jumped out, grabbed her target by the arms, and pulled him into the darker corridor. The dryad was only as tall as Martin’s stomach. He was a portly thing as well, with thick hair the color of walnuts. He needed neither holding nor quieting, as he merely sat down to catch his breath.
Martin and the others made sure no one else had followed them. Then they gathered around the newcomer. The dryad held his belly and forced in a few deep breaths. Then he opened his eyes and jumped a little, as though only now realizing he had been yanked away from his fellows.
“Oh,” he said. “Who are you?”
Illo stepped forward with her bow raised. “We need to ask you some questions.”
The dryad grinned. “There’s no need for pointy things with me. I’m not fast. I’m not a soldier or an anybody. I just carry the basket, and I think I’m all out of running for at least another week.” He watched the rest of the dryads stream by through Illo’s legs. “Look, there they go.”
Illo let her bow drop to her side, though whether she did so out of compliance or confusion remained unclear.
“My name is Nub,” said the dryad. “What are yours? And why does he only have one hand?” Nub nodded at Martin.
Illo ignored his questions. “Why is everyone running down the hall like ninny-hens?”
“Well,” said the dryad slowly, “we’re all running because King Prickle is in a bit of a rage at the moment, and nobody likes to stay around when he gets mad. And we’re running down this hall in particular because it’s the fastest way to get away from the king.”
“Is he dangerous when he’s mad?” Martin asked.
“That depends on how you feel about getting turned into a tree.”
“We don’t have time for any of that,” said Illo. “We’re here to find a human girl. Martin?”
Martin nodded eagerly. “What she said. She’s a little shorter than me, and she’s wearing blue.”
Nub’s eyes popped open. “Oh,” he said. Then his shoulders fell. “No, that can’t be right. We had a human girl, but she was wearing white the last time we saw her, so she must not be the one you’re looking for.”
“Of course it’s her,” said Martin, trying to keep his voice calm. “Never mind what color her clothes were. That’s not important.”
“But it is,” said Nub. “It’s very important. You see, white is the king’s favorite color, except on days when the moon is half-full, so a very pretty dryad named Petal dressed her in white before taking her off to marry the king, and now—”
“What?” Martin bellowed. He seized the poor dryad around the neck and lifted him with one arm.
“I’m afraid of heights,” Nub wheezed. “And I just carry the basket. Please put me down.”
“For goodness’ sake, Martin, drop him,” said Illo.
Martin put Nub down, but blood thumped through his veins and kept him on the balls of his feet. “Where is she?”
“She didn’t take very kindly to the king,” said Nub once he was back on his rear. “But the king liked her quite fondly at first, seeing as she was the first bride he’d gotten since—”
“Elodie isn’t anyone’s bride,” Martin fumed. “She doesn’t belong to anyone, and she hates wearing white. I’ve heard enough. Please, tell me where I can find her.”
“I wish I could,” Nub groaned. “I thought she was friendly and nice. I would tell you if I knew. But she got away. She whacked the king and fled the court, and that’s why the king is in a tizzy.”
Martin’s muscles eased a little. If Elodie had gotten away from the dryads, he could still reach her before any harm came to her. “How do we find the king?”
Nub’s eyes went wide. “Why would you ever want to find him? Everyone else is trying to get away. But I suppose...oh, well. It’s not hard to get to the king’s court from here. Just pick out the loudest, angriest voice and follow it. You shouldn’t have any trouble. Half the king’s guards are looking for the girl, and the other half are too busy running for their lives to give you a second glance. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should really be on my way. I hope you have a good day.”
Nub pattered into the main hall and was lost in a wave of fleeing dryads.
“Well then,” said Aguilax. “That was simple enough.”
“Here goes nothing,” said Illo.
They shoved their way into the dryad mass, where they had to wade against a battering current of bodies. Aguilax flew overhead, but Podgin was not so fortunate. He was taller than most of the dryads, but not by much, and he clung to the wall to avoid getting swept away.
Martin led them on, plowing his way through the dryads. A couple of them glanced up in surprise, but they veered away at the sight of him. After a few taxing minutes of pushing and shoving, the dryads thinned out, and they were able to duck into another corridor until the last dryads passed by. Once the crowd was gone and the din faded, the palace went silent.
There were no loud or angry voices to follow, but in another minute they reached the end of the main hall and came to a grand archway with wooden doors pushed open, and they knew they had found the king’s throne room. Martin stopped outside, listening. He heard nothing except echoing footsteps in the distance.
Martin, with the others close behind, stepped through the doors. Sure enough, a round room opened before them, with a ceiling as high as a tower. It looked nothing like any throne room he might have imagined. Martin took it all in quickly—the throne itself, the dead tree beside the throne, the plant-shrouded balconies, and the single dryad lying motionless on the moss. There was no one else in the hall.
The dryad groaned and rolled over. His hair was straight and green like grass, and there was a broken spear beside him. When he spotted Martin, he hacked up a cough that could have been a humorless laugh.
“Where is she?” Martin demanded. “The girl that escaped? Tell me where she is.”
The dryad stumbled, and then stood straight. “Are you the friend Elodie spoke about? The one who came into the woods with her?”
“Of course I am. Your people kidnapped her, and I’m here to take her back.”
“You’re too late for that, I’m afraid. She’s long gone. Safe, for now, but definitely not here.”
“And who are you?”
The dryad coughed again and picked up his broken spear. “Up until today they called me General Tum.”
* * *
Martin clung to every detail Tum the dryad gave them about what had befallen Elodie since she first woke in the hands of the dryad soldiers. The former dryad general needed no arrows or t
hreats to get him to talk. He relayed his story quickly and broadly, but it was enough for Martin to find both relief in the fact that Elodie had made it out safely and frustration that he had missed her by such a slim margin.
“Can you tell me where to find her?” Martin asked when Tum had finished.
“I wish I could,” said the dryad. “She crossed the lake from the north side of the island. The king sent a handful of soldiers after her, but they lost her trail in the woods and came back empty handed.”
“So they know which way she started, at least. Where are they?”
“Hiding from the king.”
“Where’s the king?”
“He’s not—”
“Take me to him.”
Tum gave in and tossed away his broken spear. He ushered Martin and the others out of the king’s court and through the winding halls of the dryad palace. Martin didn’t bother trying to keep track of all the twists and turns. They stopped at a small, unmarked door at the end of a short corridor. A few curious heads poked around corners behind them, but Martin ignored everything except the task at hand.
“King Prickle hides here when he doesn’t want anyone to see or hear him,” said Tum. “Which, now that I think of it, isn’t very often.”
On the other side of the door, a wavering voice ranted in jumbled sentences and broke off into fits of sobbing.
“Loonies,” muttered Podgin.
Tum opened the door, and they stepped into the room. It was a pantry with shelves and baskets and pegs laden with all manner of fresh fruit and dried fruit, hanging herbs, breads, and jars of oil and grain. A few of the jars had been smashed against the floor, their contents spilled all over the stone.
In the middle of the biggest oil puddle sat a dark dryad with red eyes and a shock of white hair. He twirled the fingers of his right hand in the oil, while with his left he snuggled a loaf of bread. Tears darkened the woody skin under his eyes.
“What do you want with me?” said the king with a sniffle. “These are my private chambers. You’re not allowed in without gifts.”
“Private chambers, eh?” Podgin struggled to contain a chortle.
“And you,” said the king, pointing at Tum, “I know you. You’re the one that got full of wrath and hit me and broke my spear!”
“From what we saw,” said Aguilax, “it was precisely the other way around.”
“Silence! No animals are allowed to speak in the royal bedroom.”
Podgin snorted. “He must mean breadroom.”
The king hurled his loaf at the little man with surprisingly good aim. Podgin dropped it into his food sack with glee.
“Be quiet for a minute, Podgin,” said Martin. He stepped forward, careful to keep his feet out of the oil puddle. “Listen here. The girl you kidnapped is my friend, and you’d better be glad she got away. I know you sent soldiers after her. Tell me which way she went.”
King Prickle sighed. “Why must everyone be so jealous of me? She was my flower. She wore white. White is my favorite color, you know. But everyone wants what they can’t have, and so we’re all green by lunchtime. Isn’t that how it goes?” He grabbed a melon from a nearby basket to replace the bread loaf. “But I don’t care how jealous you are. She would choose me over you. I have two hands, and you only have one. What good is one hand? That’s like having a nice hat but no head to put it on.”
“It’s not like that at all.”
“I’m tired of all the nonsense you’ve been sprinkling around my room. Tell me what you want and I might still let you go.”
Martin shook his head in bewilderment. “I just told you. I want to know which way she went from here. I also want to ram your head down one of these oil jars, but I’m restraining myself for now.”
The king glowered at him, his red eyes shining. “The queen by my throne used to be full of colorful flowers, especially white ones. But then along came a mischievous little sprout who shook her leaves and spoiled her flowers, and now she’s as dry as a bone in the sun and she’ll never bloom again. As was my just and natural right, I was going to tie the sprout to a rock and throw him in the lake to be eaten by water snakes, but he squealed and begged and promised to fetch me a new bride, so I let him go. He found that human girl, not me. I’m innocent.”
“What was the sprout’s name?”
“I don’t remember. He was adopted.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“How should I know? You asked.”
Martin reached for an oil jar.
“Alright, alright!” The king crawled away. “Keep that thing away from me. I’ve had oil in my ear tunnels before. Do you know what it’s like to have your own head sound slippery from the inside? She evaded my soldiers not far from the Minnowchuck. So they say. They could be making two thirds of it up.”
Martin turned to Illo with raised eyebrows.
She nodded. “It’s a river. Not as wide or fast as the Turtlegabble, but if you listen closely, it sounds like hundreds of little fish with poor digestion.”
“It’s not much to go on.”
“Maybe not, but it’s as much information as we’re likely to pry from this pile of driftwood.”
“I heard that,” said the king.
Martin had hoped for more, but Illo was right. “Let’s go.”
King Prickle made no move to stop them as they left the pantry.
“What’s next for him?” asked Martin.
Tum looked grim. “He’ll stay in there until he grows lonely or until he runs out of food. It’s a tossup as to which happens first. Then he’ll come out on his own, and we’ll have several days of relative peace before he finds something else to obsess over.”
“You won’t get rid of him?”
“He’s still our king. Most of the time he means well. Every few years some plucky young militant suggests overthrowing him, but who’s to say anyone we put in his place won’t be just as bad? The king wasn’t so mad before he took the throne, after all.”
“Like I said,” started Podgin.
Illo cut him off. “Yes, we know already.”
“There’s not much else to be done here,” said Martin. “Tum, can you show us out? Maybe I can still catch up to her.”
The dryad led them back through the throne room and out to the open air on the rock island. Three more dryads joined them there, and after conferring with them in hushed voices, Tum introduced them as Root, Nim, and Nettle.
When the three dryads saw Aguilax, their eyes lit up with surprise. The cat gave them a knowing nod and a lick of his lips.
“Nettle was the one who first stood up for your friend,” said Tum.
The young dryad shuffled his feet.
“And we want to come with you. Now that the king is appeased for the time being, there’s no reason for us not to make up for some of the harm we’ve done.”
Martin shook his head. “No, no. I don’t need or want more help than what I’ve got already.”
“Makes you feel special, doesn’t it?” said Illo, rolling her eyes.
“We have weapons,” insisted Tum. “They come in handy around here.”
Martin still wasn’t comfortable with the idea.
“At least take this,” said Nettle. He handed Martin his spear. “You can use it to fight off nasty creatures if you have to.”
Aguilax bristled. “Does that make me a nasty creature?”
The dryad wilted. Tum and his men wished them luck and left them alone at the water’s edge.
Martin eyed the trees on the other side of the lake. “Aguilax, I don’t suppose...”
The lynx unfurled his wings. “Sometimes I wish I had stayed with Fella. She pets me and doesn’t ask me to fly her around. Nevertheless, I know where I’m needed most. Up we go!”
“I’ll eat a blue toadstool before I let you pick me up again,” said Podgin.
“Fine by me. Feel free to start swimming.”
Podgin rubbed his hands together and shot a dirty look at
the lake. “Grouse guts.”
“Brilliant.” Aguilax carried Podgin into the air and had him on the opposite shore before the little man could sneeze twice.
* * *
Elodie sat as still as a stone in the branches of an oak. Three dryad soldiers had passed right under her hiding spot a few minutes ago, and she wanted to make sure they wouldn’t return before climbing down. Rough bark scraped against her legs and arms. She hadn’t had time to get comfortable before freezing in place while the soldiers ran this way and that. The dryad king had sent them after her. Of that she was sure.
At last, just before her legs went completely numb, she decided it was safe to drop to the ground. The white gown she wore made her landing cumbersome. Her swim across the lake, along with the breathless round of hide-and-go-seek with the dryad soldiers, had torn and muddied the fabric beyond repair. She missed her courier uniform, but she was thankful the dryads hadn’t taken her shoes. She needed those.
Elodie moved lightly on her feet for another five minutes just to put more distance between herself and the dryad palace. Then, after making sure no more soldiers were on her trail, she spared the time to pick clinging weeds from her dress and clumps of mud from her socks. She found a spot of sunlight in which to rest and, if nothing interrupted her, dry out.
Tum and the others had helped her escape the palace, but they hadn’t offered directions or clues where to go once she made it across the lake. Ever since waking up tied to a tree just over a day ago, someone had been right there with her, telling her where to go and how quickly to get there. Now she was alone, and it was a heavy sort of aloneness. She didn’t know if she should look for Martin or the village first. Both felt far away, impossible to find without blind luck.
After some deliberation, she realized her choices were limited. If she stayed where she was, hoping a search party found her before the dryads did, she might end up waiting days on her own. On the other hand, if she kept moving, there was always the possibility of running into help, however slim. Besides, she wasn’t willing to take any chances with the dryads. She had to keep moving.
Elodie gave herself some more time to regain her strength. Reasonably dry, she staggered to her feet, put the lake and the palace at her back, and started walking. Every so often she double-checked for lingering bark around her ankles and shins, but her legs were as whole and human as ever. She hoped they stayed that way.
Where the Woods Grow Wild Page 11