Tristan frowned again, allowing Dunric to shrug and let go of his gaze, turning his head to look forward into the forest.
Since Dunric seemed content to stand and listen, Tristan focused on hearing as well and noticed that it sharpened considerably. He could make out the flapping wings of a nearby butterfly. He heard the soft squishing of a caterpillar as it moved along a slender young tree branch to the Ranger’s right. The chirping of birds seemed almost deafening in his heightened state of listening that he almost didn’t hear what the Ranger said to him. “What?” Tristan asked, realizing that Dunric had returned his gaze to him.
“I said, use your staff,” Dunric said louder, motioning with his head toward the polished wooden staff in Tristan’s right hand.
“Okay, no need to get testy,” Tristan retorted, and stared back at the tall Ranger. After a few seconds, Dunric again, for the third time, resumed his peering into the heart of the forest.
At least it’s not Wulfric, Tristan thought to himself, waves of memories rolling over him. Decades ago, the Rangers had overseen the gathering of Initiates, and Wulfric had a reputation for being the least pleasant and most strict of their protectors. Still, all three of the Rangers were more than a little peculiar in their dealings with the new students.
Tristan knew that the forest was more dangerous than most of the inhabitants of Vulcrest knew. Even within the relative safety of the high mountain abbey, Tristan and his fellow Initiates had learned about the forest, its creatures, and the legends and myths within that were more real than the imaginary whispers of folktale lore.
Straining to calm himself and focus, Tristan closed his eyes again and channeled his thoughts and energies through his staff. The sounds became louder, but this time he could tune out the ones that were mundane, the falling leaves, wind rustling through others, small creatures rustling the high grasses as they moved about the forest floor in search of food.
Slowly, he heard the faint breathing of someone far away. The air escaping through clenched teeth gave the Initiate the distinct impression that the being was under stress, if not duress. There was no signs of movement other than the soft humming vibration of silk rubbing off of silk, and when he opened his eyes, his staff was pointing toward the same direction that Dunric had indicated earlier.
“You’re correct. The entity is in that direction, about a league distant.” Tristan bobbed his staff for emphasis.
The pair headed off with Dunric in the lead, heading toward the point that Tristan had indicated. They traveled for nearly an hour, taking care to walk as silently as possible. When the sound of breathing became heavier, Tristan stopped, and Dunric noticed it immediately, stopping as well. The Ranger didn't speak, instead crouching and resting a hand on the hilt of his sword while looking forward into the heart of the Greenfeld.
Tristan knew that Dunric had him in his peripheral vision, so he closed his eyes and concentrated again on the sounds around them. The breathing was much closer this time, yet in the same direction. Opening his eyes, Tristan moved forward cautiously. When Dunric moved, there was a distinct sound, as if fabric was pulled quickly against itself.
The Initiate stopped immediately, and Dunric was quick to do the same, both men frozen in place, hardly breathing themselves. There was a pause of a few heartbeats when a soft female voice spoke from not so far away.
“It isn’t polite to frighten a lady.”
Both men looked at each other and then returned their gaze forward, searching for the speaker. The leaves on the tree limbs swayed in the gentle breeze, making a slight rustling sound as they rubbed together. Birds continued to chirp and call to one another from deep within the forest. The morning sun left a golden, yellow glow over the forest canopy, hinting at the warmth it would give that day, yet neither man spoke.
“It also isn’t polite to ignore someone addressing you,” said the soft female voice, compelling and alluring him to come forward and show himself.
Slowly, Tristan found himself walking toward the sound, one step after another, and he glanced over at Dunric, who shook his head violently, motioning him to stay back. Tristan knew he should be heeding the counsel of his protector, but the voice compelled him to come forth.
The next few steps, around a tree and between a pair of tall bushes, revealed a small, petite figure standing perhaps only twenty feet away, leaning on a tree. The young-looking female was dressed in a sheer blue silk gown that swayed in the wind. Her eyes were a brighter blue than the sky, and her hair was an ivory white, colored with strands of golden hair intertwined, and it blew gently in the breeze around her shoulders. She wore no shoes and had no jewelry or other accoutrements on her.
“My name is Tristan,” he said, his voice faltering and sounding weak to him. He blushed, feeling the warmth of his blood as it rushed to his cheeks, and he swore he felt young again, like a young man in adulting, if he didn’t know better. “I’m sorry if we frightened you.”
Tristan understood his mistake immediately. The young lady seemed to tilt her head slightly in confusion before it dawned on her that there was more than one visitor to her forest. Then Tristan realized she may have not heard him and instead his Ranger protector. He was confused, and then she spoke. “I am called Willow, and at least you have the decency to follow the rules.”
“Rules?” Tristan asked, wondering what rule he was following or what rule he could be breaking without even knowing.
“To treat a poor child of the woods with respect, of course,” she said, standing upright from the tree and tentatively taking a few steps toward him.
“You don’t look like a child,” Tristan said, his eyes locked on hers. He had never seen such beauty before. Beth was one of the few women he had ever met, and she paled in comparison to what he was seeing. She was simply . . . divine, for lack of a better word.
She laughed, throwing her head back slightly and shaking her head. Her hair flowed around her shoulders and back, finally coming to rest on her bosom as the gentle breeze died down. “You are so sweet,” she said. “I was speaking metaphorically.”
Tristan returned the smile and then heard the faint sound of Dunric’s footsteps as he approached, though a good few steps behind the druid Initiate. Returning his attention to the woodland lady, Tristan spoke. “Is this your home? Are you lost?”
He sounded sophomoric, but he didn’t care, or was it that he couldn’t care? What was his fascination with her? He felt his grasp on his staff loosening, and the sharp, clear sounds of the forest gently died away until he could only hear her soft voice. “I am close to my home, and I’m never lost, though I could ask the same of you . . . both of you.”
“No, Tristan,” Dunric said from behind him, his voice sounding harsh and commanding. Its very sound was now grating and irritating to Tristan, and he felt that the Ranger shouldn’t be interrupting them.
“It’s all right, Dunric,” Tristan said, turning his head slightly to his left so as to be heard better, “we simply found someone who lives nearby and could be in danger herself.”
Dunric’s response was both immediate and harsh. “That is not someone; that’s a dark dryad, Tristan. Do not approach her.”
A shadow seemed to fall around them, and Tristan was more than annoyed now with Dunric. First, he accused his teacher of lying to him, and now he all but was rude toward a perfect stranger, and not just any stranger. A poor woodland lady alone in a dangerous forest near a deadly dragon, and what did he just call her . . . a dead dryad? What was a dead . . . ?
Tristan’s foggy mind started to recall a lesson from his master many decades ago, something about the inhabitants of the forest, and especially the Greenfeld. He looked at the woman, and she seemed to be scowling at Dunric, and then just as quickly, her face reversed itself and she looked directly at Tristan, smiling. “Pay no heed to your friend. He is rude and jealous of you.”
Her voice sounded much more pleasant than his companion’s. Why couldn’t Dunric see . . . No, wait, what was he rememberi
ng? Something about the creatures of the Greenfeld. If only he could concentrate. His mind seemed clouded, and it wanted to focus only on the woman’s voice. That in and of itself was odd to Tristan, but he couldn’t understand what was happening. “Don’t let her touch you,” he heard Dunric say, his voice harsh.
Touch? Tristan noticed the young lady had started to take a few more steps toward him now, her hand outreached in a warm, welcoming gesture. Her face was kind and inviting, beautiful and friendly. Tristan found himself smiling back at her, and his free hand started to reach out toward her.
“That’s it, you can accompany me home and ensure my safety,” the girl said, continuing to move toward the Initiate in measured steps, making Tristan beam from ear to ear at the thought that he could be of service to this enchanting young woman.
There was a commotion behind him as Tristan noticed his hearing had all but faded from enhanced to dull. He didn’t realize that the Ranger had run up to his side at the same time that the young lady reached him. Her hand almost touched his when a blur came across his vision, breaking the lovely moment and upsetting him immensely.
Dunric’s sword swept out and hit the lady’s arm with the flat of his blade, knocking it down, and at the same time, Tristan was pulled backward behind the Ranger.
“You dare,” she said, a scowl on her face as she used her other hand to rub the bruise that she was sure to receive from the blow.
“I do,” Dunric said, holding his sword out in front of him. “Go back to your home and leave us be. We will have no dealings with you this day other than to shed your blood upon the forest ground if you dare approach again.”
Tristan felt confused at the normally polite Ranger’s response and attitude toward this woman, and shook his head to clear the fog that was clouding it. “What are you doing?” Tristan said to Dunric.
The dark dryad continued to scowl at Dunric and was about to speak when the sound of brush and trees being moved aside reached their ears. Within seconds, the very ground started to tremble slightly at the sound of something immense approaching. Finally, gathering her wits and changing her scowl to an evil grin, Willow spoke. “Time to deal with the queen of the forest.”
Dunric backed away, past Tristan, pulling him back with each step. “Time to go,” the Ranger said, looking past the dryad toward the treetops that shook violently as something approached.
Tristan looked toward where Dunric’s gaze fell, and started to retreat himself, no longer requiring the urging of the Ranger. “I think you’re right, Dunric.”
In the distance, a green-scaled neck appeared, blending in perfectly with the tree tops. The head was concealed between two trees, and only a set of gleaming emerald eyes peered out from the canopy.
“Run,” Dunric hissed, all but pulling on his ward, though completely unnecessary, as Tristan had turned and bolted back the way they had arrived.
There was a long pause as another dryad walked beneath the green dragon and into the area where her sister Willow stood still rubbing her arm. “Are you hurt?”
“I’ll live,” Willow said, not taking her eyes off the forest where the pair of men had disappeared.
“Who were they?”
Willow turned when the ground vibrated, and Tyranna lowered her neck from treetop level to hover just over the two dryads. Hesitantly, Willow answered. “I think it was an Arnen and his protector.”
Tyranna’s voice was low but deep. “What do you mean you think?”
Willow pondered the dragon’s question for a moment before answering. “He seemed odd to me, as if the power of Agon was within him, yet naïve, as if I was dealing with a child.”
Tyranna growled, and Sun Petal, the dryad leader who accompanied her from the human village, spoke. “You know something.”
It was a statement, not a question. “Yes,” Tyranna said. “The Arnen nearby has sent out his pets to do his bidding.”
“That annoys you?” Sun asked.
“No, but the fact that he sent his warriors does,” the dragon said.
“That one was a brute,” Willow said, resuming her care of her arm, rubbing it and stretching it. “I’ll be happy for you to dispose of him. Otherwise, I’ll take him to eternity, if I have to.”
“They are not easy to kill,” Tyranna said, “and this one is known to me. He is a leader of their warriors and immune to your charms.”
“How is that possible?” Sun asked.
“Their Mother protects them,” Tyranna said.
“Agon should know her place,” Willow said, anger rising within her.
“Why didn’t you pursue?” Sun asked, her demeanor more inquisitive at this time.
Tyranna took a moment to tilt her massive head to one side, listening to the sounds behind them. They were hard to hear as they were a good distance away, but the forest conveyed their footsteps, and the snorting of horses, as the humans traveled into the deep of the forest. “I can ill afford to face the Arnen and his protectors while the holy warrior approaches. We must deal with them separately.”
“Then it was their lucky day,” Sun stated.
Tyranna looked at the dryad, assessing if her words were mocking or not. “Perhaps, though before this is all over, they will come to fear the forest once and for all. They must learn that there are rules to entering my abode.”
“And yet you break your own rules,” Sun said, taking a moment to point out the hypocrisy of the dragon.
“You speak dangerously,” Tyranna said. “To what do you refer?”
“Your kind is forbidden to reproduce on Agon, and yet you violated your own rule,” Sun said, wondering if she would pay with her life for her question.
“How would you know?” Tyranna said, her voice lowering, menace laced throughout each syllable.
“You think you can keep a secret like that from my kind?” Sun asked. The question was rhetorical, and she continued when Tyranna did little more than lower her eyelids. “We know, and hope that, for your sake, the queen of your kind does not discover your transgression.”
It felt like a veiled threat to both dryad and dragon, but Tyranna was used to dealing with resentment in creatures that she coerced. This was no different. “If she does, then I will take solace in the fact that we will spend eternity together to console one another.”
“Console?” Sun raised an eyebrow, counter to the dragon’s narrowing of her massive eyelids.
“For the loss of my child and the loss of your sisters,” Tyranna said.
Sun understood that Tyranna meant they would be trapped together in her multidimensional home where the dragon would torture and torment her until she either went mad, died from the pain and agony, or both. Tyranna would lose the offspring of her egg and would see to it that her fellow dryad sisters were killed as well. The dragon would never see the light of Agon or Akun again, but that wouldn’t help either of them. The threat of mutual destruction was enough to keep the dryad under duress and compliant.
The dragon would remain in control, yet again.
Chapter 9
Heart of the Forest
“Do you see anything?” Godfrey asked of the returning scout.
“No, my lord, though the trail runs straight and true into the forest,” the soldier said, pulling his horse up to a stop and nodding at his nobles.
Godfrey turned to Lucina. “Is she still intent on following?”
Lucina looked to her ward, who sat on her steed not far away discussing the abduction with Fergus and Clive. “I think when she learned that the babies were taken, she made her decision. It’s up to us to keep her safe.”
“Easy for you to say,” Godfrey began. “You have but one responsibility, and I have many.”
“You complain too much,” the holy warrior said.
“The burden of leadership,” Godfrey said. “At least try to convince her to return to the town. That, at least, you’re capable of.”
“No, I think after this day, I am in agreement with her.” Lucina looked back at the
leader of their troops. “I felt something evil last night, and I am convinced that there is no other course than to investigate and finally root out the cause of this plague to the town and its people.”
“You speak as a woman,” Godfrey said. “It’s the emotions of the babies that have clouded your minds. The baron won’t care about them if his daughter is harmed.”
“And you speak as a man,” Lucina countered, disdain evident, but she tried to temper her emotions. “Do not let fear cloud your judgment from doing what is right.”
“I have no problem with pursuing these kidnappers to the ends of Agon, if necessary, but I don’t agree with taking the baron’s daughter along for the ride. It may get bumpy before it’s all over.”
“You worry about your soldiers and leave Helvie to me,” Lucina said.
The pair fell silent as Helvie approached with the mayor and magistrate. “Are we interrupting?” Helvie asked.
“No, my lady,” Godfrey said. “I simply think it will be safer for you to remain at the village and wait for our return. This forest is creepy, and I don’t like the idea of you coming with us when you agreed to stay behind.”
Helvie looked at the mayor and then back to the commander. “I said I’d ride as far as the forest edge, but that was before we knew that three babies were taken. That changes things a bit, and you can stop protesting, as I grow weary of it. This is the third time today you said the same thing.”
“But my lady . . .” Godfrey’s words faltered in the face of stern looks from Helvie and Lucina.
“Time to move,” Fergus said. “The trail grows cold and the day passes quickly. I fear we won’t find them before nightfall at this pace.”
“The mayor is right. We need to pick the pace up,” Helvie said, looking to her protectors.
Lucina nodded, but Godfrey assessed the military risks involved. “The faster we move, the more of a chance we stumble into an ambush.”
“True,” Clive said, ever the calculating type.
The Green Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 3) Page 10