Dryad's Touch

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Dryad's Touch Page 27

by A. W. Graybill


  Chest burning, Nara struggled against him again. When Sudriel released her, he sidestepped away before she could make another swipe at him. Realizing how nude he had left her, she dove for her clothes. Her brother had singed her clothing along the seams, and it was clear he had not been left without magic prowess as she had.

  Castien stood nearby, glaring at the ground, his face taut and unwilling to look at Nara until Sudriel stepped towards her. His head snapped up while his body tensed.

  This time, there was no need for alarm. Sudriel smiled, raised his arms to the sides, and laughed. “See, I only wanted to see your mark. It’s very beautiful much like my own and should be shown to the world.” Sudriel pulled back his right sleeve, revealing black flames encircling his lithe bicep. “Next time, sister, you should be more cooperative. I will be ordering you around for a very long time.”

  Sudriel took a step forward, a lingering grin on his lips. Though she didn’t want to show him she was afraid, she stumbled backwards into the wall, still clenching the cloth around her. Laughing, he removed himself from their presence, leaving Nara feeling defiled and betrayed.

  With the door shut, she looked towards Castien who stood with trembling hands.

  Unthinking, she rounded on him. “How dare you stand there and do nothing!”

  This shattered his hardened features, releasing whatever held him chained to the ground. In quick succession, he moved forward, grabbed her chin, pushed her into the wall, and kissed her. Although her fingernails dug deep into the backs of his hands, she did not push him away and could do nothing but return his kiss while her clothing fell haphazardly around her.

  Breathless, Castien whispered against her neck, “I will kill him if only you ask.” Shaking her head, Nara stared at the door, her hands wrapping around the back of his head. “I would, Nara. I would because I want to. I am only looking for an excuse.” Pressure built against her. It wasn’t until the stone walls dug deep into her back that she realized he was pushing harder into her.

  Nara started, “He says he will be ordering me around—”

  “The king says anything to pacify his son,” Castien interrupted, his breath brushing her skin until he pulled back and stared down at her. “Sudriel has not been at peace since the day he learned of you, Nara.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment while something heavy rolled across his face. “It is you who will sit upon the throne. Tell me you want him dead, and I will forget all repercussions just to satisfy you.”

  Nara hushed him, sweeping one hand across his face. “I’ve no desire to see anyone struck down, Castien. Through all my life, I do not think I have ever wished that for anyone.” She kissed his cheek. “We will ignore him for the moment, and he will be surprised when I leave.”

  Eyes wide, Castien cupped her face again. “You must not leave, Nara. This is where you belong.”

  Nara scoffed, “And if I want to belong elsewhere?” Castien shook his head again; his brows caught together above his eyes. Nara could feel the mixed emotions coming from him and knew her next question would add to his anxiety. “Would you not leave with me, beloved?” The last word caught in her, their proclamations of love still few and fresh. While they had only known one another for a short time, Nara continued to reassure herself that he loved her.

  His words were heavy when he whispered, “I belong here, Nara.”

  Nara’s eyes fell away from Castien. She became breathless and suddenly felt alone. In such a short time she had fallen in love. She had blindly followed him and allowed him to lead her into the unknown. She thought he would follow her too. She wondered if he loved her. If he loved her, would he not have been more willing to follow her to the edges of the world?

  His arms wrapped around her, gentle hands closing on bare skin, shielding her from someone no longer present. Nara thought back to the grove, to the dryads and their songs as they followed their mother. Mother Dryad was thought to be myth. Now Nara recalled fables and myths centering on her, her presence, and her tree ever hidden. Nara knew hers was the blood of the earth; Mother Dryad was Gaia’s blood, earth, and flesh.

  The sudden recollection helped Nara lean further into Castien, trusting Mother Dryad. Nara of the Dryads, delivered through them and looked after by them, was still being led by them. She would never discuss such a strange thing with anyone, and she would never tell of what she had seen and heard these past few days.

  Mother Dryad told Nara to stay in her position through anything that might happen, to do all asked of her, and that Castien was important as well. She would trust in one that was as old as the gods. And Nara had little doubt the gods directed both Mother Dryad and herself.

  XEVIAT

  There was no comfort to be had.

  Several times Xeviat had tried to gain rest in a bed that was once a sanctuary for him. Many times he had walked the gardens and temple to gain some peace. But none would come to him. The others stared at him whenever he walked past, and he prayed their minds were working out what had happened to him in Eanlasair.

  Whenever he closed his eyes he saw Sinead’s face. She was beautiful with thick crimson hair, just as all those descended of Edan. She had tricked him into thinking she had loved him, even going so far as to take him to the altars of Edan to be bound in flames.

  Many times he awoke gasping, remembering when her dagger had pierced and torn the jagged hole in his chest, leaving him to die. Still, the pain of the blade had been bearable compared to the pain of losing the woman he thought loved him. The eldest niece of King Wynne U’Dhaigh, she’d been sent as an escort along with several dozen men years before. Her beauty struck him, and her charm only dealt a deeper blow to his heart.

  Such a foolish one he was. Youngest of the Council of Kothes at present, he was also the youngest ever chosen to sit in their circle. While the other members had their reservations about him taking his vows when he had just received his marking, the gods had given each of them visions telling them to pick Xeviat. They had no choice but to accept him. Soon after, they had sent him to Nudomri. Their attempt to free him from their sight was a fatal one.

  Now, at twenty-four years of age, he was sleep-deprived and wanted to keep to his room, yet he continued to place himself into their presence. He allowed himself to sit amongst his peers. Though he was barely aware, he slumped in his chair and listened as they discussed several matters with the king. Due to the pressure Thaos had on his mind, he listened more intently when they spoke about the princess. Xeviat learned, and, in turn, Thaos discovered, that she was named Nara of the Dryads on Vheria. Her mother was smuggled away from the island in a row boat while still pregnant and, upon reaching the shores of the golden island, fell to labor before reaching the temples doors. The dryads came to her, helping the maiden deliver the child beneath the full light of the moon.

  Since that day, stories had surrounded Nara, leading up to the mark she had received. Many were present that morning, witnessing Nara naked beneath the sky. Still many more were present when the demon visited her on Summer Set, something Xeviat’s master would not speak about.

  Despite such an astounding past, Alinar was focused on a single prophecy hardly known. A newly spoken prophecy that Xeviat was just now learning of.

  “When the dryad merges with the dragon, you will know the prophecy of old has begun. The uncertain path is granted to the dragon,” Alinar repeated the words of Sib, prophetess of only ten years. “With her first visions we found the long lost Moon Elves within these past two years.” Alinar adjusted in his chair; wooden talons on the feet scraped against the stone floor while obvious discomfort crept along the lines of his face. “We are making progress. We wait for our latest envoy to return from Inkalan before we make another move.”

  “So what of this new prophecy?” Deva Fainas asked, her pale, weathered hands forming a temple in front of her. Wise blue eyes scanned the king from across the table. The eldest there, it was usually this Sun Elf who took to the task of delivering their messages to Alinar and firs
t voicing the questions and opinions Xeviat knew they all had.

  “Sib will not speak much on the matter,” Alinar replied, long nails leaving indentations on the flowered edges of the wooden table as he tapped them. “But someone brought to light something interesting. Through what we’ve been told, the Moon Elves have taken to the water more so than they had in the past, even when the gods walked the world.”

  “Dragons of the water,” Faeldea Avin blurted, pushing dark hair away from his golden face. Not much older than Xeviat, he seated the council not long after Xeviat had, and still his opinion weighed better with the others than Xeviat’s.

  Bitter thoughts aside, Xeviat closed his eyes to listen and compose his thoughts.

  “The water dragons are said to belong to Kalana,” Faeldea continued. “Made by Llethra and gifted to Kalana as protection, there are rumors they travel along the eastern seaboard of Nudomri.”

  Deva interjected, “The Moon Elves have taken the serpents as their own, and it is said that they sought shelter through Kalana and have taken her mark in addition to Ghedril’s. Not common knowledge to even those who sit here but—”

  Xeviat opened his eyes, the sudden rush of thoughts pouring out through his mouth, “You mean to wed the dryad to the dragon, to bring about the prophecy.” He gasped, which garnered odd looks. The presence of Thaos weighed down on his mind. Sometimes Xeviat would not know he was there until Thaos spoke. But other times the god’s emotions quickly overwhelmed his mortal mind without a single word.

  Realizing he had taken such a tight hold of the table’s edge, Xeviat released it to lean back in his chair, his eyes passing from one concerned look to another until Alinar spoke again, “Their king has one son, one that communicates with our envoys more than his father. He seems to have welcomed our contact with much enthusiasm, but I thought of strengthening this bond even further. Hence the true purpose in pursuing my daughter who would have otherwise not mattered.”

  All grew quiet. Alinar had already spoken to them about retrieving Nara. He’d sought their advice on how to go about it before she had come of age. If he truly wanted the child, Xeviat thought he could have taken her at any moment. But now he saw that she’d had no value to Alinar until after her rites.

  She should be sent, Thaos whispered, that nauseating feeling never becoming easier to control. I want to touch her. Offer your idea on the matter. Xeviat, this will also be a perfect time to arrange my meeting on shore with you know who.

  “Nara should go,” Xeviat practically shouted, trying to overpower the voice in his head. Standing, he suddenly had an urge to show those who had not taken him seriously what he could do, even if it meant speaking for the demon god. “I think Nara should be sent. With prophecy at hand and the gods’ divine light, we should pursue this.”

  “If we do, it could mean war,” Targus spoke, his face a mess of tension. “A war that will tear our world apart. I do not think—”

  “I think if the gods wanted to avoid it, they would have sent some sign or would have said something before their ascension. Clearly her mark and the presence of demons speaks of something from them.” Xeviat hardened his features when he strolled around the table. Twelve remained seated, while fourteen were present; six sun elves, five moon elves, a king, a slave, and a god. “The Elders of Ghela do not speak of any signs, do they? We’ve not been granted a divine oracle in so long while our people are losing magic. I say all signs point towards their longing for a war. Should we not do their bidding? In order to continue in their protection and in their love, should we not?” Laughter rang in his mind. Xeviat knew without a doubt that at least one god wanted those dark events to come about.

  For once, the others pondered Xeviat’s words, taking careful and serious consideration of them. He let them do so, quietly standing behind his chair. It allowed him a moment of reflection. He wondered at his own actions, seeing that it had become easier to do the elder god’s bidding. Through these interactions, and the longer Xeviat stayed on Ghela under Thaos’s control, the more he saw that he did not care what happened to the land. Kothes and the twins had yet to come to his aid, but still he had faith that they would hear his prayers and see his pain.

  Perhaps he was just as much their pawn as he was Thaos’s.

  Castien, Thaos hissed.

  “A moment please!” Xeviat yelled, shutting his eyes and trying to ignore the strange looks his outburst spurred. In an effort to recover, he pushed on, “A moment of your time, please, Your Majesty. Have you spoken to Qildor Dreigsier on this matter? His family is held in such high regard.” Alinar shook his head, heavy brow rising. “You should. Speak to him about his son. It was Castien who was sent to retrieve Nara, and I think he should have the honor to continue at her side. There are many opportunities in a coming arrangement for many of us. I think we would be a fool to pass on this. If the union of the dryad and the dragon are not to the pleasing of the gods, they will stop it. But as a comfort, I suggest you send Castien with her along with his detail of dragons and dragonling guardians.”

  “We need to show them our power,” Alinar concurred, “and how young our power is, along with our willingness to merge. They speak of a battle in their land, a need to fight and escape.”

  “All the more reason to send as much as we can afford.” Valdays Gofrin stood, raising an older, azure-colored hand to Xeviat in encouragement.

  It was then that Faeldea and Alosa stood, raising their hands towards the center of the table as well. Soon after, others followed suit, leaving Deva and Targus in their chairs. As a gesture, though all knew his opinion, Xeviat too gave his hand rise to the center of the table, pride tightening his chest at what he accomplished.

  Deva frowned at the table, wrinkles deepening in her face. Xeviat knew she was not long for Arlania, soon to become a collector of souls. But while she was alive, her opinion mattered most amongst them.

  “True words, Xeviat,” she said at long last, pushing on frail hands to stand, leading Targus in the same gesture. She inclined her head towards Alinar then. “In a unanimous vote, we give you freedom to pursue this. Keep in mind, and I think I speak for all on this matter, if this somehow fails us and leads us to ruin, we will see another seated on the throne.”

  There was a long silence while all hands but that of Deva and Alinar’s stayed facing the center of the table. Deva waited for Alinar to agree to such a stringent demand.

  When Alinar nodded, brunette hair speckled with grey swaying in his admission, Deva let her hand rise and said, “Then it is we, Council of Kothes, those whose order has ruled as long as our kind has walked Arlania, who give you our blessing in pursuing a bond of kingdoms and perhaps a way to bring about the prophecy of old.”

  Bowing, Alinar departed from the council room, an air in his step that Xeviat found unsettling. He was ready to give his daughter away to strangers, and Xeviat only prayed that her sense of duty went beyond that of her own life.

  Deva was first to leave. Silently, she grasped Xeviat by the shoulder in her passing, letting him know of her approval. Whether she agreed with all he had to say or not, he did not know, but this gesture was enough to let him know his words and willingness to finally speak up were appreciated.

  Faeldea pulled Xeviat into a tight embrace while others followed Deva from the room. Lips close to Xeviat’s ear, he whispered, “The darkness will rise to swallow whole the sun and moon.” After Faeldea clasped Xeviat’s shoulder, Alosa followed Faeldea’s lead, wrapping her arms tightly around Xeviat and uttering the same in his other ear. Without explanation, they left him, shoulder to shoulder.

  Ghela was far more tainted than he had previously imagined.

  NARA

  “It’s beautiful,” Nara remarked breathlessly.

  Standing in front of a mirror twice her height, Nara admired the gown Cilvreen had made for her. According to Cilvreen, it was made in a rush through the night. That was why she continued to stitch around Nara’s waist. When it was made mattered not to Nara, wh
o looked at it in wonder.

  The gown glimmered many shades of gold, red, and white, appearing like rays of the sun. Cilvreen had stitched delicate designs of gailenia flowers out of gold thread, beads, and tiny pearls across her chest. When Cilvreen made her turn, Nara looked behind her to see the gown dip low enough to reveal her mark.

  “Thank you,” Nara whispered, fingers toying with the pearls.

  “I do what is requested of me,” Cilvreen replied, finishing the last stitch. She gestured for her to turn again, which Nara did. “I’m designing more gowns that will show the world your beautiful mark. This is one I’ve had lying about for some time. I only cut the back and made it fit you perfectly.”

  Nara blinked, looking away from the mirror and at Cilvreen. “My father wanted this dress made?”

  “He did.”

  “When did he begin making plans?”

  Cilvreen stood and played at Nara’s sleeves, stubby fingers running over the design. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with that, Your Highness.” Nara’s heart leapt, unaccustomed to the title. When Mother Dryad told her to stay in her position the day before, she knew she would. And now the title excited her.

  “Now,” said Cilvreen, passing her fingers through Nara’s flowing hair, “I think you should leave your hair draped over your shoulder. Most maidens pull their hair up in all fashions here, mimicking humans. But I think the traditional way suits you better. Especially since you were raised on Vheria. I’ve a gift.”

  Cilvreen reached into a pouch at her side and extracted a gailenia flower attached to a comb. Nara’s lips parted upon seeing the red and gold painted tips. She touched the soft, fabric petals then the smooth pearl at the center. Smiling, Cilvreen pushed Nara’s earth-toned hair back, setting the comb against her head. “Your father will have artisans crafting your own crown and jewels, but for now, take this as a welcoming gift from me.”

 

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