Sunshine in the Dragon's Heart

by Jaime Samms

  “No idea. Can we just keep our ears and eyes open?”

  “Will we see more dryads?”

  Sunny scowled into the gloom. “No idea about that, either. The rose bush is the only one I’ve ever seen.” He didn’t mention how much more sense some of his recent experiences made now he knew there might be live, sentient beings in the forest to make noises, shake the trees, and who knew what else.

  “It’s really pretty here.” Daisy trailed a hand over the bark of a tall red pine. Above them, the branches trembled, raining a gentle shower of long, rusty needles into their hair. “I think your tree likes me,” she whispered.

  Sunny glanced up into the branches. It looked like any other pine tree. Except he got the feeling it was looking back at him. He also got the impression no tatzel would dare lurk in the branches of that particular tree, which eased his growing nerves.

  “Do you know where Emile is?” he asked and then felt like an idiot. Because he was asking a tree a question, but worse, expecting an answer. “Shit.”

  “Shh.” Daisy touched his arm. “Listen.”

  In the sudden stillness that followed her order, they could hear the splashing laugh of water tumbling over rocks.

  “The stream is loud,” he mused.

  Even as Sunny glanced towards the water, the aspen trees drew back, affording him a view in the direction of the clearing and the willow tree, as well as Fernforest, standing there watching them, as if waiting for his dense, slow humans to get with the program and catch up. Sunny couldn’t see the actual tree or its mossy yard, but there was no mistaking the hint. That was the direction they needed to go.

  “I’m gonna go with more dryads,” Daisy whispered.

  “You should go back to the house.”

  Her only reply was a soft snort.

  After a heartbeat, Sunny followed Fernforest’s disappearing behind along the familiar path. Daisy stayed close at his back. He wanted to worry about her being there but was too busy taking comfort in her presence.

  The silence under the forest roof buzzed in Sunny’s ears, conspicuous because he could feel a light breeze lifting the hairs on his arms. The aspen leaves should be rustling, but the trees held themselves motionless. Sunshine flashing along the upper reaches of the trees didn’t penetrate, despite the breaks in the cover. A pall hung over the forest, dampening the sounds of their footfalls and making it difficult to see very far ahead.

  “This isn’t normal,” Daisy observed.

  Sunny returned her earlier snort. “You think?”

  “What’s causing it?”

  Sunny remembered Glimmerleaf’s cloud of ash and smoke with a shudder. Surely a single salamander, even one as sick as theirs, couldn’t cause this thick a blanket of gloom. “I’m not sure,” he said at last, not liking any of the scenarios in which this was caused by a single salamander, or worse, an army of them. But then, if it wasn’t that, what could it be? It wasn’t a natural phenomenon, which left magic, and anything that could affect this wide an environment had to be powerful.

  If Sunny were to believe Emile that he had any magic at all, it certainly wasn’t enough to combat this. “Stay close.” He took Daisy’s hand again. “I don’t like this.”

  “Sunny?” She spread her free hand over his back as he walked ahead of her. “Your Emile. He’s not….”

  “Not?”

  “Is he a dryad? Is that why he hasn’t come to the city? Does he have to stay near his tree?”

  “He’s not a dryad. And I don’t know if they have to stay close to their trees. He hasn’t come to the city because I don’t go to the city. Maybe. I guess.” He huffed. “He wouldn’t fit in there.”

  “Then what is he?”

  Nothing got past his sister. Sunny bit his lip. “Just—” He squeezed her fingers. “Meet him, okay? I want you to meet him before anything else.”

  But first they had to find him.

  Chapter 28

  WHEN THEY reached the spot where the path branched, one leg heading in the direction of the willow and its clearing, the other towards the old shack where Sunny had first found Emile, Sunny hesitated. Fernforest had vanished a few minutes ago, and Sunny didn’t know which way the dog had gone.

  “Let’s check the shack first,” he decided and took a few steps down the narrow path. Trees crowded close, brushing their shoulders, dropping yellowed leaves into their hair. A root lifted, snagged Sunny’s toes, and he cursed. He swatted at a branch, irritated by the scratching and grabbing. He didn’t remember the path being so overgrown, but then, he hadn’t been this way in a while. He’d have to remember to trim it back later.

  The branch shifted out of his way, but only for the barest instant before it swung back and smacked him in the face.

  “Really?”

  Another branch hit him in the chest, and as he watched, a thick root lifted, dripping soil as it bent upwards to almost knee height, then stopped, right across the path.

  “Honey, I think they don’t want us to go this way.”

  “But why?” Sunny glared at the offending tree. “Is it because that’s where Emile is? He’s mine.” He slapped his palm hard against the bole of the tree. “You can’t have him.”

  “Sunny.”

  “Get out of my way!” He hit the tree again, and it shuddered, but the root remained, and a few more branches shifted to push against his torso.

  “Sunny!” Daisy grabbed his arm and yanked.

  “What?” He whirled on her but stopped when she pointed.

  Behind them on the path stood a dryad, branchy arms crossed, a feral look on its face. This one had sparkling eyes of palest green, diamond-bright and glaring. A thin mouth with rough bark lips pressed in a frown that marred an otherwise human-looking face. Its skin was the pale silver-green of aspen bark and glowed in the gloom.

  “Sorry,” Sunny muttered. “This your tree?”

  The dryad’s lips twitched.

  Sunny petted the thick tree trunk. “Sorry,” he repeated.

  The dryad gave a sharp rustle of its leafy mane, then stilled.

  “I need to find my friend. Emile.” They stared at one another. “Do you know him?”

  Nothing.

  “Please. I need your help.” What good was a magical creature if all it did was stand there and stare?

  “Honey, let me.” Daisy moved him gently aside and held out her hand. “Hi. I’m his”—she pointed a thumb over her shoulder—“sister. He’s upset right now. Normally he’s very kind.”

  “Daisy, we don’t have time—”

  She laid a hand over his mouth. “He’s impatient,” she said to the dryad, “which I know you probably don’t understand.” She grinned. “Hasty, you might say. But in this case, it may be warranted. We want to find his friend and make sure he’s okay. Can you help us?”

  The dryad reached out with one long leaf-tipped branch finger and stroked the side of Daisy’s face. It tilted its head, curling its lips to form a slightly terrifying rugged smile before offering one slow nod. The branch finger curled around the back of Daisy’s neck and pulled.

  “Oh!” Daisy stumbled forward. “Okay. Careful.” She gripped the dryad’s enormous hand. “You’re very strong.”

  The dryad picked her up by both shoulders, wrapped another branch around her waist, turned, and began a slow shuffle back down the path to the fork.

  “Um.” Daisy squealed and wriggled. “I can actually walk if—okay.” She squeaked again as a branch cupped her butt, giving her a place to sit, and the branch around her waist shifted. “Not so tight. You can carry me.”

  The dryad’s shuffling strides weren’t very fast, but they covered a lot of ground, and Sunny had to hurry to keep up.

  “Daisychain?” He pushed past more branches until he’d made it out onto the wider, clearer path. “Daisy, are you okay?”

  She grinned down at him. “Fine, brother. I told you your trees like me.”

  “A little too much, maybe.”

  The dryad shifted Da
isy to its other side, farther from Sunny.

  “It’s okay,” Daisy told it, patting its face. “I like you too.” She settled back in her makeshift seat and winked at Sunny. “Let’s just see where this leads, okay?”

  What could he do but nod? He couldn’t leave her now. Not until the dryad released her. He only hoped the creature was also bringing them to Emile.

  The rest of the trees parted in the same way the trees had blocked their path earlier, making the walk to the willow smooth and quick. As they approached the clearing, a deep gold glow—much too deep to be the morning sunshine—speared through the trees to strike the path. The dryad slowed and so did Sunny.

  “What’s out there?”

  The dryad curled a branch around Daisy’s middle and watched the path, expression troubled.

  “Did Emile go this way?”

  Gently, the dryad set Daisy down, then lifted a long finger to point off to one side, along the bank of the river. Sunny followed the motion to see a dark hump lying half in the pool of water where he’d bathed Emile the day they had….

  “Shit. Glimmerleaf.” After rushing past Daisy and her escort, Sunny skidded through the slick mud to collapse at the salamander’s side. “Glimmerleaf?” He touched the animal’s scaled side, relief flooding him when it rose and fell under his palm. “What happened to him?”

  The salamander sluggishly lifted his head enough to peer over his shoulder at Sunny. His eyes glittered with fury, but Sunny didn’t feel it directed at him. “Who did this?”

  The dryad knelt next to Sunny and caressed the salamander’s neck, its touch tender, its face sad. Tree roots slithered out of the soil to lie across Glimmerleaf’s body. A soft radiance pulsed through the threadlike roots, bathing them in the greenish glow.

  “What’s happening?” Daisy’s voice was soft. Her hand shook slightly as she ran it over Glimmerleaf’s scales. “Is this a dragon?”

  “No. A salamander. Glimmerleaf. Maybe Emile came looking for him.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but I think it amounts to someone poisoned him. He wasn’t this bad the last time I saw him.” He clenched a fist. “I wish I could talk to someone!”

  “You have to be patient,” Daisy admonished. Her hand was steadier now, gliding smoothly over Glimmerleaf’s scales. “Poison needs an antidote.” She looked at the dryad. “Is that what you’re doing? Curing him?”

  The dryad looked sad and turned its head to look at the water. It sparkled even though very little light reached its surface through the trees. The creek boiled over its banks, tumbling along the bed with abandon. If he squinted, he could see the sprites splashing water over the prone salamander.

  The tree roots draped over Glimmerleaf thrummed, the light pulsing, a soft hum emanating from them. They were thin and threadlike, crisscrossing his hide in a network of soft light.

  “What is this?” Sunny touched a root with a fingertip. A zap of energy sparked and tingled up his arm to his elbow, like a particularly strong zing of static electricity. “Daisy, I don’t know if they’re hurting him or helping him.” The flakiness to Glimmerleaf’s scales that he had noticed before was more pronounced now.

  “Would he have brought us here if he was trying to hurt your pet?” she asked.

  “I doubt it.”

  “Then wait here. Watch.” She rose from where she had been crouching and moved

  After a long moment, the dryad pointed across the water. It rustled its leafy hair, covered Glimmerleaf’s neck with a gentle palm, and continued to look sad.

  Sunny peered over the running creek, which had risen even as they lingered on its bank. He was pretty sure that now, in its deepest part in the middle, it reached at least to his chest. If it kept rising at this rate, it would be over his head in less than an hour.

  From the other side, a number of glittering points peered back at him—eyes like sunshine on a forest stream: dark depths with brilliant sparkle in tan, smooth faces, much like the colour of sanded cedar. Beards and hair of flat, scalelike cedar leaves covered heads and faces fixed in serious, worried expressions.

  “He has to get across the water,” Sunny guessed. “Whatever type of flux he was fed is what’s hurting him, and you can’t help him.” He looked up at the dryad. “Can you keep him alive?”

  The dryad frowned more deeply, and one shoulder came up in a slow gesture of uncertainty.

  “But they can. Do the cedar trees give off the flux he needs?”

  For once the dryad’s face brightened, but only for a heartbeat. Glimmerleaf was clearly too weak to cross the wildly flowing creek, and Sunny guessed the cedar dryads could not cross the water away from their trees. Nor could the poplar dryad leave his side of the creek.

  Surely if Emile was here, he would know what to do. He was a dragon. Maybe his magic could have helped Glimmerleaf. Alone, Sunny was at a loss. And if Emile had sensed Glimmerleaf’s trouble, where was he now? Why wasn’t he here, helping?

  “So.” Daisy petted Sunny’s hair as she spoke. “How do we get him over there? We need something as strong as a dryad to lift him, but not bound to one side of the creek or the other.”

  “Like a dragon,” Sunny muttered.

  Daisy giggled, and the sound was only slightly hysterical. “Do we have one of those?”

  “The only one I know of is afraid of the water.” He glanced around the woods with growing worry. And nowhere to be found.

  “Okay, I have to admit, I’m freaking out a little bit that you’re serious right now.” Daisy plopped into the mud next to him, where she could lift Glimmerleaf’s head and put it in her lap.

  Sunny stood so he could pace. “Emile hates the water because his scales are thick and heavy. He’d have to soften them so he didn’t sink if he wanted to cross the water.”

  “Emile. Is that…?” She pursed her lips and stared at him. “Is Emile your guy or the dragon?”

  Sunny gulped but turned to meet her gaze. He didn’t have to actually answer her. A sharp, short laugh escaped before she covered her mouth with one hand. “Sorry,” she whispered from behind her fingers. “Don’t answer that.”

  “He’s both,” Sunny said dryly. “And I wish I knew where he was and why he’s not here. If we found Glimmerleaf this easily, he had to know the poor guy is in trouble. So.” He sniffed and pushed his fingers into his hair.

  “They can do that? Change their scales? How much they weigh?”

  “I think so. But he wouldn’t use his soft scales. He doesn’t feel safe that way.” And yet… he would. If Glimmerleaf needed that kind of help, Emile would do it. Sunny knew he would.

  “Why not?”

  “It makes him vulnerable to the one thing he ran from in the first place.” Sunny had the impression Emile could protect himself as a male dragon. As an Egg-bearer, maybe not so much. “They never sent Glimmer here to hurt us. He was bait.”

  Sunny spun in place to face the path leading towards the willow. “All Hakko needed him to do was make himself vulnerable.” Which didn’t explain why Hakko hadn’t come after him in his most vulnerable form of all—his human one. But that didn’t matter. It only mattered that if he was right and Emile did change his dragon form, and Hakko had come for him, Sunny had to go get him back.

  “Stay with Glimmer, Daisy.”

  “No, Sunny.” She started to shift Glimmerleaf’s head from her lap, but both Sunny and the dryad put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Please, Daisy. I need you to stay with him. If we can’t save him, I don’t want him to be alone.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Sunny grinned at her, aware the expression was a little on the feral side. “To get my dragon back.”

  He turned without another word and dashed down the path towards the willow clearing. This time not a single twig or leaf barred his way.

  Chapter 29

  THE WILLOW tree stood, as majestic as always, at the far end of the clearing. Scrambling noisily past its feet,
the stream ran over its toes without a care, swamping the bed of moss Sunny and Emile had lain on. Sunshine flooded the area, its light cool next to the blazing gold that streamed between the weeping leaves of the tree.

  Magic thrummed, hitting Sunny in the chest and slowing his headlong rush towards the source of the glow. He had made the middle of the clearing before he finally saw the willow’s dryad.

  The creature was tall, soaring nearly twice Sunny’s height. Long furls of moss tangled in its leafy flow of hair. Crags as deep as the tree’s bark lined her face. Her eyes glowed yellow as a flame, ever-changing in the shimmering light under the tree.

  You seek passage, human.

  The statement ground into Sunny’s being, and he slowed even more.

  “What?” Was the dryad talking to him? Her lips didn’t move, but she stared at him as though weighing his reply.

  You seek passage to the other side of the Fold. She tilted her head, a rustle of leaves accompanying the movement. She indicated the fall of branches veiling the far side of the clearing and the other side of the creek.

  “If that’s where Emile is, then yes.” He picked up his pace again, crossing the rest of the distance to the imposing dryad in a few heartbeats. “If that’s where Hakko has taken him, then that’s where I’m going to get him back.”

  He does not belong to you.

  “He doesn’t belong to Hakko either.”

  You think he belongs here? With you? Away from his kin? His kind?

  “He came here on his own. Hakko has no right to force him back.”

  What makes you think he did?

  Sunny scowled. “I won’t believe Emile went back on his own until he tells me so himself. If the only way for that to happen is for me to cross to his side of the Fold and ask him, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  Relentless.

  “You’re a tree. I suppose you would know something about relentlessness.”

  She inclined her head, a small smile turning her lips.

  He frowned as he reached the dryad. “Why can you talk to me, but the others can’t?”

  They are young.