Dryad's Tale, A Short Story

by Angela Castillo

Dryad’s Tale, A Short Story

  Copyright 2013 Angela Castillo

  Dryad’s Tale

  The apes harvested the young trees in haste and with no remorse, then wove the branches to create my prison. Sap dripped from the ravaged saplings, my kindred, only I could hear their final screams. I folded into my long, lean body and shuddered.

  I closed my eyes and wished for home. A hollow in the stone, with enough room for me and a friend, if one came to visit.

  Yesterday morning, only a few miles from my present confinement, I had wakened in my little cave. Sunlight filtered in through the entrance while slight breezes flirted with my hair. I rose to drink my breakfast of spring water and mint.

  Far away, my tree’s branches must have rustled in the wind, for the trees were quiet here. I longed to visit my Dalwith, the essence of my spirit. When separated too long a physical weight pressed on my skin, as though the very air attacked me. I could not go to her now. If my enemies found her location we would both be destroyed. I whispered a good morning and hoped the phantom breeze would carry my words.

  A stream bubbled beside the cave to share forest gossip. I knelt at its bank and combed my long, dark hair with my fingers. The same rippled reflection I had seen for over three hundred years stared up at me, with her pale green eyes and pointed chin. A quick twist to coil my hair at the nape of my neck, a few adjustments to the simple yellow shift I wore, and I was prepared for the day.

  “Crunch!” A twig in the thicket. I listened, hands ready to grasp my nearby weapon. A small creature on two legs approached. Muscles relaxed. Not a beast.

  Sprightly, an elf friend I hadn’t seen since last autumn’s dance, peered through the bushes. His leathered face was drawn with worry and his eyes scanned the clearing before he stepped out. At three feet tall, he came just to my knees.

  He gave a quick bow, mud-brown hat almost sweeping the rocks. “Lady Darweena, I come with unfortunate tidings from Lord Dryfus. The Boar has returned, with a much larger army of beasts than last time.”

  “The Boar comes again,” I whispered. My lips spread into a smile. The last encounter with my enemy had ended with the great swine fleeing from my arrows, his ugly face twisted in fear.

  Decades had passed since the beasts first challenged the fairy folk for sole ownership of the forest. In former centuries our peoples had shared the woods as friends and allies. The Boar had begun his quest in a quiet way at first, when he crept through clans of beasts to spread words of dissent.

  “We must take the forest back,” he had hissed into furry ears. “It belongs to beasts alone!”

  Our forest would take a day’s journey to pass through and held room for all, but this did not matter. The beasts listened to the evil words and rose up in force against the fairies. Fairy folk faced a dreadful choice; drive out the beasts or be driven out ourselves. Only victory would quench the Boar’s thirst.

  Sprightly’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “By your leave, my Lady, many more must be informed.”

  “Of course, Sprightly, go well.”

  I returned to my cave to gather my dearest treasures. My long bow fashioned from the heart of my sister’s tree, uprooted by a renegade giant a century ago. My arrows, created from branches shed by my own tree. Extensions of my being, I could count on them to fly straight and true every time. I bundled them together, along with food and medicinal herbs.

  Before I left, I uttered a simple prayer to the Creator of forest creatures and beasts. His heart was not for separation, but He allowed us to battle for the innocent’s safety and freedom, the only reasons a tree spirit would consider war.

  I hurried through the forest. My body floated above the ground, feet seldom touching the forest floor, like all dryads moved.

  The birds flitted through the branches above me in silence. Intelligent creatures. They kept to themselves and out of conflicts between the ground folk.

  When I arrived, centaurs, fauns, dryads, fairies and elves stood in despondent clusters throughout our battle camp. These folk would rather dance then go to war. All eyes fixed on a lone figure who stood turned from the crowd, hands clasped behind his back.

  Lord Dryfus turned to face us, his merry brown eyes clouded. Dark hair, inherited from his human father, curled around his handsome face like wild vines. Despite the grave situation, I laughed to myself. He always ran his fingers through his hair when stressed.

  I joined the crowd when they dipped their heads in respect.

  A smile played over the Lord’s face when he saw me, and his eyes softened.

  My heart quivered, filled with the same longing I always felt when our paths met. Words suspended in the air above the crowd, intangible breezes felt but not held. The people’s needs would forever come before the our own desires.

  Sprightly emerged from the forest, followed by a small group of fauns. Behind them drifted two other dryads. The three of us were the only ones left of our kind now.

  Battle plans were drawn up, but could not be confirmed until the exact status of the Boar’s army was known. Lord Dryfus appointed captains of each division.

  Then we sent away the youngest and very old, who would flee to the rocky East until word of safety reached them. Two elderly centaurs carried faun children who sobbed into the snowy manes. Elf women kissed their babies and handed them to grandparents. Even those of us who had no families shared in the grief. How many orphans would be created today?

  Night fell, a harsh blanket of anticipation. Most were happy to fall into beds of soft heather for one more time of rest.

  My soul would find no shelter in sleep this evening. I joined the first watch and paced the camp’s perimeter. I closed my eyes only to see pictures of blood and horror. I tried not to blink.

  A wild sense of joy tore these morbid thoughts asunder. He was beside me!

  “Lady Darweena, you have tilled our ground well.”

  I glanced down. Long furrows in the dirt trailed my wake. I hadn’t even noticed my heavy thoughts had weighed my feet.

  For the first time today, Lord Dryfus chuckled. “You must be weary. I will call someone to take your place.”

  “My Lord, our kind needs little rest.”

  He nodded. He reached for my hand with long dryad fingers, inherited from his mother. We touched for the first time in a century of friendship. “This might be our last sunset."

  "Yes. Perhaps." My skin trembled beneath his.

  “Darweena, our lives should be as intertwined as our hands are now. We evaded our own happiness because of this foolish war!”

  My heart swelled with unfounded hope. “My thoughts are the same,” I whispered. “The forest should be safe for all creatures.”

  “Greed and power corrupt,” he said. “If we cannot win this battle, we will move on to escape from this place of war.” His powerful hands cupped my chin and his dark eyes flashed into mine. “Tomorrow we shall fight together, like we have for the last hundred years. If we both survive . . . shall we finish this discussion?”

  I gripped his hands to draw strength from their warmth. I could only nod my assent.

  He moved closer, and his warm lips touched my own. Our green, green life ran through my veins. If only!

  When we returned to camp, dawn had arrived and most were awake.

  A tiny creature flew through the crowd and hovered before us. Farlina, our best scout, removed her fairy cloak to release her light. 

  She darted over Lord Dryfus and perched on his shoulder. “The beasts are close, my Lord.” Her high voice carried over the crowd. “They come from the valley, not five miles hence.”

  “This is worse than I have foreseen,” Lord Dryfus said. “How many?”

&
nbsp; “Over one hundred large beasts, including elephants,” Farlina said. “More small animals than I could number.”

  Separated from the beasts by a mere half-hour. The crowd of forest creatures murmured to each other. Could we even take a stand against so many?

  Lord Dryfus raised his hand for silence. “My people, a dark day has fallen upon us. We will convene in the meadow, not in the hills as planned. Be brave, dear friends.” He scanned the faces in the crowd. “We are outnumbered by beasts, but our valiance is powerful. We fight for our hearts today.”

  The crowd cheered while hooves and feet stamped the ground, and bows and staffs shook high in the air. We formed units and marched into the meadow.

  I joined the front line with the other archers. Our strategy was to fell the greatest number of beasts as possible from afar before retreat was necessary.

  A faun, Tibre, marched by my side. He adjusted his bowstring and set an arrow in the notch, a face reserved normally for joy and mirth covered by a grim frown. In the old days fairies danced on the backs of elephants while horses and centaurs raced together in the highest hills. How much blood would be poured out today, wasted on the land we should all have shared?

  The Boar’s evil scowl invaded my thoughts. He wouldn’t be so prideful when he found out his surprise attack had been foiled. At least we held that small victory.

  Tibre froze, arrow on his string. His goat ears swiveled. “They come,” he whispered.

  The line of bushes rustled and began to fall forward when the beasts emerged. Great cats and bears led the pack, followed by wolverines, wolves and badgers. Horses and boars flanked the sides, while animals of every species followed. All eyes were white and rolling in heads full of the Boar’s evil promises.

  Behind them came the largest beasts; camels, giraffes and eight stately elephants with tusks polished and ready. At first their backs appeared to swarm with giant, hairy ants. No, they were apes, armed with bows and arrows. The center elephant carried a canopy of crude make, and underneath stood Boringel himself. The Boar barked out orders and stamped an absurdly small, cloven hoof.

  Lord Dryfus rode forward on Crenwar, a unicorn friend from childhood. The Fey and beasts quieted when he reached the line’s front. The elephant carrying Boringel passed through the animal hoards until the two leaders were only a hundred yards apart.

  “Boringel, I call for peace,” Lord Dryfus shouted. “End this war before any more forest blood is spilt.”

  Boringel’s tiny eyes glittered from beneath the canopy. “You would ask us to lay down our weapons and become your slaves?” he hissed. “You forest people always think you are more intelligent. After we were cast out, we learned to survive. You have grown weak and lazy. This is our land, we will have it back.” The beasts roared and growled in agreement.

  “The choice to fight was made by your kind,” Lord Dryfus said after the ruckus had somewhat quieted. “You were our brethren. Our hearts have never desired this separation.”

  Boringel squealed in anger. “We are the beasts, and we have rights to the forest!”

  One of the apes loosed his arrow. It brushed through Crenwar’s milky forelock and scraped against the Lord’s armband when he ducked to the side.

  “Not until I give the order!” Boringel bellowed. He turned to see who loosed the arrow but found only the canopy wall behind him. His elephant stepped backwards and almost killed several raccoons in the way.

  The beasts gave into their primal natures and charged into the meadow, teeth bared, hearts lusting only for blood.

  Forest creatures of claw and fang plowed through our sparse front line of fauns and dwarves. Friends and neighbors went down to my left and my right, torn to pieces. The Fey were not created for war, and though they fought with valiance, their hearts were not in the kill.

  My arrows, along with those shot by the elves and dryads, brought some hope when they sang through the air. Many ape archers were dispatched by these small messengers of death. Apes had never been known to be accurate shots so few Fey were brought down by return fire.

  I moved on to the four-footed creatures, and my arrows crippled a horse and two bulls. One sank into the eye of an elephant. The massive creature crashed to the ground, crushing several smaller beasts refuged beneath it. Our arrows were soon gone, however, and the swell of beasts never diminished. Our first line retreated far too soon.

  Lord Dryfus led the next charge of centaurs and unicorns. The largest beasts swept forward and they battled for their lives, tusk to horn.

  I fell back with my team of archers and metal rasps filled the air while we drew our swords and prepared to meet the last wave, which would include whoever survived the first two. A moment to breathe, and then the mass of fur and blood and flesh rolled over us like a shroud of despair.

  I defeated two wolves and prepared for a third when I heard a small voice call in the elvish tongue. Sprightly was pinned against a rock while a fox and badger took turns lunging for his throat. I pushed my way through to help. The two beasts were intent on their prey and I bore down on them. In an instant, they joined the growing numbers of dead scattered on the battlefield like uprooted flowers.

  Sprightly was uninjured, so I gave him my long knife to replace the staff he carried and went back to the fight.

  A pack of big cats circled me, snarling deep in their throats. One cat made it past my sword and tore my arm with his teeth. Foam poured from his jaws and he pawed at it in confusion. He crashed to the ground, writhing in agony. The other cats realized my blood meant death and stepped back. A tiger lunged into me and knocked me to the ground, pinning me under his massive form. An ape clouted my head with his staff and all was dark and gone.

  It seemed like a lifetime had passed since this morning. Many hours must have scurried by since the battlefield, for I had woken in the late afternoon. A small trickle of milky substance still flowed from the cat’s bite. My flesh would mend in haste, my tree would bear the scar forever.

  My friends and kindred had been shown no mercy from the Boar, so I could expect none for myself. No other prisoners were with me, every fairy who had not escaped would be dead or dying on the battlefield. Had Dryfus survived?

  The taste of our kiss still hovered over my lips. I shook my head for this foolish indulgence. Thoughts of pleasure, while blood covered our dancing grounds! If he were alive though ... he would send for me.

  A silver bull guarded my prison. He grazed on the thick green grass around the enclosure. On occasion, he would glance my way, open his mouth and close it again, as though unsure if he were permitted to speak to me. Could I glean information from him?

  “Oh great and noble beast,” I said in my sweetest tones. “I grow weary with mystery. Do you know what fate awaits me?”

  He chewed for a moment. Grass poked out of his mouth at the corners. “They want to find your tree.” 

  A slight fear gripped me, but then I relaxed. My tree would never be located among the hundreds of beeches in the woods. The entire forest would have to be burned!

  The bull shook his head as though he read my thoughts. “They have squirrels. Squirrels know dryad’s secrets.”

  I had forgotten the squirrels. The little brutes need only examine me for a short time to memorize my scent and texture, and hundreds of them could be sent out to find my beech. The Boar knew my spirit could only be quenched by my tree’s destruction. He would send a few beavers, or apes with axes and my end would come.

  Evening’s gloom settled over my enclosure, while sounds of merriment came from the beasts' encampment. They had discovered the faun's wine cellars, and roars and shouts grew louder by the moment. My guard’s head was turned; he also listened to the festivities. If he could be distracted, I might find a method of escape.

  A tiny hand touched my arm, light as unicorn eyelashes. I could barely make out the outline of Farlina’s cloak when she touched my shoulder. “Lady Darweena,” she whispered, “Lord Dryfus is alive and sends his greetin
gs.”

  A sigh that came from the heart of my tree forced itself between my parted lips.

  “He and a few others escaped and hide among the gorses of the farthest ridge,” the fairy continued. “The animals are besotted and could be overcome had we not lost so many. Our only choice is flight.” A tear, barely visible, trickled down her cheek. “Lord Dryfus could not leave the wounded, but he sent me to help you if possible. You must escape. Even now the beasts plan your demise.”