by Dante Silva
“There are plenty of places. Have you seen the ocean?”
“The ocean?” She tilted her head to the side.
Julian closed his eyes and did his best to paint an image of the ocean from the stories Mother had told him. Water spanning wider and farther than any lake, any field, any mountain range. Birds sailing overhead and calling to each other. Waves lapping against banks of sand that stretched out of sight. A breeze that was somehow salty. When he opened his eyes, Unharud’s were wide.
“No, I’ve never been there.”
“Neither have I, but we could go there together.” Julian brushed a strand of green hair behind her shoulder. “I mean, only if you want.”
“I would love that.” Sadness laced the thought, but no images accompanied it.
“We can figure out the details later. I still have a song to play for you.”
Before she could reply, Julian let go of Unharud to fetch the lyre from his pack. A warm breeze rippled through the copse, rustling the leaves to a different kind of music. He ran his thumbs along the smooth wood of the instrument and took a seat beside the flowers, a flurry of nerves returning to his stomach.
Unharud clapped her hands and jumped from her spot. So she hasn’t forgotten. Julian gave half his attention to tuning the lyre, the other half captured by the way she stretched her arms toward the sky and leaned from one side to the other. With a teasing smile, she waited until he shut his gaping mouth and fit the plectrum in place.
Julian set a slow rhythm, plucking each string to create a resonant melody. In response, Unharud danced to his pace as though under water. Her green locks swayed in the air with every leap and spin, and her controlled movements maintained their ease and grace. Sunlight and shadow played over her body as she glided about the copse.
The branches swayed in time, the birds chirped in harmony, the very heart of the woods beat beneath their duet. Pressure built at the back of Julian’s eyes, and although he wasn’t touching Unharud, he could feel the poignancy of her motions as if he were.
He wanted the moment to never end, but the last note hung in the clearing, and she relaxed into a natural posture. Lowering the lyre to the grass, Julian breathed. Unharud’s eyes held his as she made her way to him, chest heaving from exertion, and she knelt before him so their knees touched.
Sanguine stained her cheeks, compelling him to brush his fingertips across her skin. She held his shoulders while he traced her temples, jaw, chin, and supple lips. He leaned in, nose hovering above hers, stroking her lips with his thumb. A small gasp escaped her. She slipped her hands into his hair, tilted his head down, and kissed him.
A burst of feeling hit Julian as their lips fit together in a caress. He cupped her face, kissing her at the same rhythm of the song that continued to beat inside him. Unharud grasped his hair and drew on his bottom lip before breaking away with a small pant. Dizzy passion clouded his mind like a haze and produced an aching pulse in his trousers.
“Did I do something wrong?” Julian brushed the hair from her face.
Lidded green eyes darted to his lips before meeting his gaze. “No. Not at all.”
THE stain on Julian’s second-best tunic glared up from his arm, but that was the price for helping at the smithy. In the direct sunlight that bore down on the grassy field, the mark didn’t look too bad. He’d been thinking about his kiss with Unharud and tripped on a stray nail, catching himself on the anvil but smearing soot over his sleeve in the process.
I can still feel her on my lips. Despite being dragged to Mistress Lemora’s—as the sign put it—for the past three birthdays, he’d never kissed a girl. Not like that. Before, kisses were no more than passionless pecks traded between strangers he’d been happy to walk away from. There had been no heady rush of affection or all-consuming fire that burned through his body and inspired him to jog through the woods.
Notes drifted through his mind as he skirted around a swollen beehive. It was a song for Unharud, not one he copied, but something new he wanted to create just for her. He thought of the places they might go, of camping under the stars as homeless, wandering musicians, and strung together a melody.
Julian entered the copse and let out a startled laugh when Unharud captured his hands and pulled him into a dance. An invigorating flush adorned her face and neck, and she tugged him about the circle of trees, lifting his arm to spin herself. Releasing him, she placed a hand on his shoulder and pranced around him, letting her hand trail across his back and over his chest. With another twirl, she finished her dance and grinned up at him.
He placed his hands on her arms. “That was wonderful, Unharud.”
She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. Before he could wrap his arms around her, she slipped away with a giggle. Leaping forward, he captured her waist and pulled her to him. She laughed and squirmed, the length of her back and curve of her bottom rubbing against his front. When he tried to hold her still, she pressed into him further.
He took deep breaths to calm himself.
Green hair teased Julian’s neck as she looked over her shoulder, brushing a pointed ear across his chin. She shuddered violently and gooseflesh raised on the skin beneath his fingers. “Julian, that tickles.”
“I didn’t mean to. It just happened.” He lowered his head, careful not to disturb her ear, and pressed his lips to the base of her neck. “There’s a song I’m writing. I haven’t finished it yet, but it’s about you and the places we want to go.”
Tilting her head, she exposed her skin, and his cock pulsed against her back of its own volition. “Tell me more about the ocean.”
He continued kissing a slow path along the slope of her neck. “Well, I’ve never been there, but I know some of the music that comes from that region.” Ferassi tunes accompanied the image of a huge, sandy-shored body of water. Unbidden, Unharud appeared lounging on the beach, smiling languidly at him. He pulled his lips from her. “I’m sorry!”
She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, touching the tip of her nose to his. “If I could go to a place like that with you, it would make me so happy.”
That undertone of sadness laced her thought again. Her weight rested against him as he experienced her genuine desire to see the world with him, but there was something else. Unharud’s head snapped to the side, startling Julian from parsing her feelings, and she cocked an ear.
Their connection remained unbroken, and through her sharp senses, he heard the creak and clatter of branches being pushed aside. His attention shifted as dirt compacted over tree roots and something—a boot—skimmed against grasses and low shrubs. From the direction of town, someone moved through the woods, and they were getting closer.
Unharud pulled back and gripped Julian’s hands. “No one can find this place, Julian. We have to keep it safe!”
“It’ll be all right.” He squeezed her knuckles in return. “We can scare them off and make sure they never want to come back. If you can use your magic to startle them, I’ll chase them away.”
Trembling, she nodded. “That might work.” The tromping of boots on undergrowth filtered through the trees, and Unharud’s quivering stopped as Julian felt her shove fear away. “Now.”
Unharud vanished, and Julian ducked out of the copse. He kept low to the ground, picking his steps between twigs and brush, and tried to intercept the intruder as far from the oak as he could. Overhead, birds chirped and insects buzzed, unaware of the troubles beneath them. Less than a minute from the copse, he spotted the person making all the noise.
A large, bearded man in furs carried a long pack over his shoulder, stooping down now and then to observe animal tracks. Julian recognized him from town—Brin, one of Father’s drinking buddies—but had never made the effort to get to know him. A sharp breeze tore through the air, billowing Brin’s dark hair and kicking up dirt and dust. Brin shielded his face with a hand and moved, unperturbed, to check a snare trap set at the base of an ash tree.
Branches high above Brin bobbed
as Unharud appeared in them and bit her lip. After an assessing moment, she jumped onto a lower limb with a sharp chant, the branch bowing with magical flexibility and reaching down to grasp Brin. Unharud continued the chant, and nearby limbs bent in kind, swooping as the trapper fell to the ground with a shout and scrambled to evade the animate wood. He found his feet and glanced back at the trap, but Unharud’s words flowed, and the trees nearest him reached out again. Brin yelled and broke into a run toward the copse, raising his arms against the onslaught of bark.
Julian darted ahead, cutting a direct path back to the ring of trees, looking for something, anything that might help. In the copse, the central oak glowed and pulsed to the staccato beat of Unharud's words. Brin dashed toward the tree, but the lively beehive hung in his path. Sorry. Julian picked up a rock and hurled it, denting the hive and disturbing its residents enough to send a swarm of bees out in a flurry.
Brin skidded to a halt before the sudden barrier as sharp brambles reached out and attached to his trousers. Kicking up dirt, he spun around and bolted, his howls fading into the mass of trees. A gentle curl of air calmed the angered insects. Julian gave the bees a wide berth and followed the fading shouts until he was confident Brin wouldn’t return, then returned to the depths of the woods himself. He rushed to the copse but found it empty.
Panic built in him. “Unharud?”
No answer.
The copse shrunk around him. “Unharud...”
After a moment of silence, Unharud appeared in front of him. She fit her hands along either side of his face. “I’m here. I had to make sure he wasn’t coming back.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her earlier trembling returned in full force. “We frightened him away, just like you said we would.”
Julian gathered her in his arms and stroked her hair. “Are you hurt?”
She threw her arms around him. “No, just scared. That man got so close. Closer than anyone has gotten, save you. If he’d found my copse...”
“You could have hid.” He fit his chin against her head and let out a sigh when the trembling stopped and her grasp relaxed into a snuggle for comfort. “Even if someone manages to make it here, you can just hide in the trees, or wherever it is you go, until they leave.”
“That wouldn’t work, not really.” Sniffling, she pulled back. “I still wouldn’t be safe.”
“Why not?”
Unharud wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “There’s something I need to show you.”
Pulling Julian by their entwined hands, she led him to the giant oak and pressed her palm against the bark. She waited expectantly. Brows furrowed, he placed his hand next to hers, and a wave of feeling crashed into him. The tree was everything that she was, and all that was her was also the tree. They were two parts of a whole. In that moment, a strong and comforting connection linked all three of them.
The moment ended, and Julian dropped his hand. Unharud’s eyes gleamed with a knowing intensity that paralyzed him. “This tree is to me what heart and lungs are to you. If anything were to happen to it, I would die.”
Julian balked. “Even if something did happen, you could find a new tree to live in, right? You found this tree after you traveled here from the fey realm.”
She brushed his hair out of his eyes, her smile sad. “To untether myself from this tree wouldn’t be a difficult thing, no, but finding a new tree requires a long ritual. Much like people, the tree I pick must be compatible with who I am for our partnership to work. I must ask permission and have it granted. Dryads never untether from a companionship tree before finding a new one first, not unless we’re desperate. If we go a day without, we waste away. Passing through the gateway untethered me from my previous tree and left me exposed, but I found this oak in short time.”
“That’s why leaving your home was so risky.” He sighed as they sunk to the oak roots and touched foreheads. “No wonder you were afraid of me when we first met.”
Tears ran down her face anew. “This is the problem. This is why dryads don’t travel much. I’m not like you. I can’t wander from town to town the way you can at a moment’s notice. Companionship trees aren’t always easy to find, and without one, I either remain stuck or risk my own demise.” She sobbed. “Julian, as much as I want to, I can’t go with you.”
He pulled her to his chest and leaned back against the oak, fighting the tears that welled in his eyes from both his own grief and hers coursing through him. “Things will turn out all right. I promise, we’ll figure something out.”
FATHER stood from the table and stretched, massaging his lower back as he walked toward Mother at the kitchen sink. Halfway to grabbing the bowl of boiled potato remains, Julian paused and shot Zacharai a questioning look, but he just shook his head in return.
“I think I’ll turn in early today,” Father said, trapping Mother against the counter to give her a kiss on the cheek. “These long days are taking their toll.”
Her brow wrinkled. “I’ll follow soon.”
“Don’t trouble yourself.” He smoothed her worry lines before turning to his sons. “See you three in the morning.”
Julian collected the linen napkins with his free hand as Father’s footsteps faded and the hallway door snicked shut. Not a moment sooner, Elias snatched the bowl from Julian’s hand and brought it to Mother. She made an approving hum. “You’re going to make some young woman very happy one day.”
“Until he gets tired,” Zacharai scoffed. “You don’t see Father helping around the house. There’s no time for that with a farm to run.”
“He used to help before you three came along.” Her tone remained placid. “Children can be quite a handful, but you’ll find that out soon enough.”
That shut Zacharai up. Julian smiled for the first time since chasing Brin off.
Elias ignored the exchange. “You haven’t told any of your stories in a long time.”
“I didn’t realize you were still interested in them,” Mother said.
“Something reminded me of them recently.” Elias winked at Julian. “When we were little, you often recounted how you serenaded Father.”
“What can I say? It’s a good story.”
“We’ve all heard it a hundred times.” Zacharai set the cups on the counter. “You were traveling through Cloma, spotted Father at the inn, sang him a song with your lyre, and then we showed up.”
“You’re harder to impress at nineteen than you were at nine.” She wiped her hands on a cloth and turned away from the dishes, thoughtful. “Wait here. I have just the thing to interest you.”
When she was gone, Elias turned to Julian. “Asked anyone to the festival yet?”
Julian recoiled. “Will you ever give up?”
“Not until I’ve found someone better to spend my time with.”
“I hope you find someone soon for our sake.” Zacharai chuckled.
Julian rounded on him. “And what about you? Have you worked up the nerve to ask Iris?”
“How would you know about her?” Zacharai glared at Elias. “Besides, she hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask me to dinner yet.”
“Maybe she would if you agreed to help wash the dishes,” Elias said.
“You’re one to give advice.”
“What about you, Julian?” Elias pressed with a sly smile. “I'm sure you have a secret or two up your sleeve.”
“You spend time around the girls when you're working in town,” Zacharai said, crossing his arms. “What would you suggest, little brother?”
Julian sank in his chair. “Follow Mother’s lead and sing them a song to win their hearts.”
“Well said.” Mother bustled into the kitchen carrying an old scroll case. Holding it up like a torch, she grinned. “This, my sons, is a map of my adventures.”
Elias gaped. “You’ve never mentioned a map before.”
“Haven’t I? There are so many stories from that time in my life that I needed to keep track of where I went or risk forgetting it all.”
Zacharai
and Elias scrambled into their seats as Mother opened the case and slipped out a roll of parchment. “It’s like you’re children again.” She laughed, drawing an eager smile from Elias and a small flush from Zacharai.
Julian ignored his brothers and held one corner of the map down as Mother unfurled it on the table. Aside from crinkled edges, the parchment was in good condition. When it sat flat on the table, each of them holding a corner, his breath caught.
Most proper maps found in Cloma only displayed fifty miles out in any direction. Mother had drawn them world maps when they were children, but nothing with such detailed lines or exact spacing. Faded, red dashes trekked across lands and seas in uneven intervals, stretching from Ferrasi to Cloma.
“Amazing,” Julian breathed.
“This helps you understand what I had to go through to reach your father.” She traced the dashes. “Of course, I didn’t realize he’s what I had been looking for when I started out.”
“No wonder it took you so long,” Elias said, his finger following the dashed line around a mountain range and into the ocean. “You went in a big arc to get here.”
“Wanderers don’t move in straight lines.”
Julian glanced at Mother and saw no trace of regret in her nostalgic smile.
“There are the Willwind Mountains.” Zacharai brushed Elias’s hand out of the way and pointed at the landmark. “That’s where you saw the dwarves and elves.”
“At the southern end of the range, but yes,” Mother said.
Julian remembered the elves and dwarves and other creatures from the mountain range and nearby forest Mother had told them about, then he paused. He scanned Mother’s dashed path, his smile growing, and he turned to her. “Can I borrow this?”
Zacharai was aghast, and Elias gripped the edge of the map like he wanted to take it for himself, but Mother’s eyes shined.
“Of course,” she said.
“UNHARUD!” Julian flew through the woods, his face sore from grinning. After a long week, the day of rest had arrived, saving him the trouble of looking for work that morning. “Unharud!”