Dryad Eyes, part 10
1775.
Holy crap, I made it to part 10! Go me!
Treyp came awake frantically clawing at the blanket that she had, at some point during her rest, pulled up and over her head. Why she found herself in such a state of blind panic she could not say, though some detached portion of her mind remarked to her that she probably looked quite silly. Since her father's visit, which she felt had been very real, her dreams had been less than comforting. Sometimes, she saw the faces of the men who had attacked her standing over her, having finally caught up to her. These were among the more pleasant dreams she had been having. It was the dreams that she did not remember that seemed to be the worst. She would wake from these breathing heavily and crying, or utterly terrified as she was at this moment.
Finally dragging the blanket clear of her face, and panting as every sharp motion she made drove hot spikes of pain into her back, ribs, and thigh, she gasped and dragged in a long, deep breath of air. That hurt too. Then, she froze. There was somebody unfamiliar in the room with her. Though she could not see, she knew with absolute certainty that this person was standing at the foot of her bed and watching her.
Oh gods, she thought, and then spoke. Her voice was not quite shrill, but its edge was unmistakable. "Who is it? Who's there?!"
There was naught but silence from her visitor, and it stretched on for several uncomfortable moments. She felt as though her heart were trying to hammer its way out of her chest. It was not until she tried to rise up, gritting her teeth against the intense protests of her bound wounds, that she received a timid response.
"My apologies miss." It was the voice of an elderly woman, kind and sweet. "You startled me, when you started thrashing around like that."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Kella. Geran asked me to look in on you from time to time." The woman made her way around the to the left hand side of the bed as she spoke. With a gentle, calloused hand on the girl’s shaking shoulder, she urged the dryad girl to lay back. "There now. Easy."
"Oh. Kella. Okay." Treyp let herself relax. She had met the elderly woman once before, when she had gone to see her uncle in his rooms.
"It sounds as though you were expecting somebody else, Miss."
"I... no. Not exactly." With a quick shake of her head, made awkward against the softness of the pillow, she dismissed the unspoken question. "I had a bad dream is all."
"I see. Well, that's not uncommon."
Satisfied that the younger woman was going to stay put, Kella moved away from her bedside and went to work on tidying up the room. The gentle swish-swish of a feathered duster reached Treyp's ears, and she could smell the soap and water when the chambermaid opened the door to retrieve something, likely a bucket and a rag, from the hallway. Minutes passed and, becoming accustomed to the activity, she began to drift away again.
Kella's gentle voice startled her awake again. "They're all terribly worried about you, you know."
"Wh-what?"
"I’m sorry, miss. Did I wake you? I thought your eyes were still open."
"That happens sometimes. Don't worry about it. I would rather be awake for a while anyway." Treyp tried a weak smile in the other woman's general direction. "What did you say?"
"Oh, I was just saying that your friends are all terribly worried about you. Geran and that strange child that pretends to be Arimus. Eyrenya." This last name she said with much affection. Apparently, she had met the nymph and liked her. After the briefest of pauses, the woman went on. "Kurik, Talitha, even that quiet boy with the black hair."
"Not... too much, I hope." Was Kella talking about Matthew? Treyp had been hoping that he would be there, or that any of her familiar friends would be there, when she woke up. She had been so in-and-out of it that she supposed she must have missed most of them when they came to see her.
"You can never worry too much for your loved ones, Sweetie. After all, you only get one chance to be with them."
The older woman was beside her again, and Treyp forced herself to refrain from jerking away when she patted her hand, and then squeezed it. "And don't think I didn't see the way you perked up a moment ago. I'm sure he'll be in to see you again soon."
Chuckling softly at the brightly blushing dryad, Kella left the room.
------------------------
Three men, Erek, Roech, and Jerod had gathered round the bed in which Endek, Erek's older brother and usually the most physically capable of their company, lay. He had taken the brunt of the beating that the dryad girl had given them. A broken jaw and a broken collarbone would see him lain up for weeks, even with the magic-practicing healer Erek had found for him.
A somber silence rested comfortably between the four men. Endek, of course, with his jaw held closed by mystical bonds, could say nothing. The rest simply had little to say. Word had come down from their employers that morning that there would not be another attempt at removing the dryad from the King's company. Things had gotten 'bigger than that,' they had been told. Dealing with the humiliation of being beaten so soundly by the girl was one thing. This was quite a nothing. This was like being told that they would simply have to live with their bruised pride, that they were as worthless as their first attempt at dealing with her. Perhaps that was not how the man called Thanik had meant his dismissal of their services on this issue to sound, but it was how they were taking it.
Erek placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, and squeezed. Stirring, the bigger man looked up at him with questioning eyes. His brother, standing over him, spoke in a low, conspirator’s voice. "I hope you understand why it has to be this way."
Endek looked away.
Turning his attention to the other two men, Erek met their eyes in turn. Jerod's were blue, and framed in a face that would forever look younger than he was. Roech's eyes were hard, his face rugged, marked clearly by the hard life he had led. Though he shared little, the others knew that he had grown up on the streets somewhere in the far north, and that he had seen more than his fair share of blood long before he had turned to soldiering as a profession.
"The girl has to die." Erek stated, his voice firm and unwavering.
"Even if we go against orders and try to see this happen," Jerod objected, "I think it only fair to point out that we were hardly equipped to deal with her the first time around."
"Truth." Roech agreed. "Though we know a little more about her now, it will still take more than bad intentions to see it done."
"I was chosen to lead our party for a reason, gentlemen." Erek growled, displeased by even the marginal resistance he was receiving. "I made my reputation by killing, capturing, and selling her kind on the underground slave markets."
"A bold claim, seeing as how you seemed just as surprised by her... prowess as we were."
"I was surprised." Erek agreed. "And that is one of the reasons that we have to do this. See, dryads? Usually they're more like a bull in a china cabinet. Strong, sure, fast, yes, but without finesse. If you know what to expect, taking them down is no more difficult than bringing down a Great Bear, or a particularly angry wild boar. This girl, though, she's been training. She knew exactly what she was doing when she attacked us."
"So what does that mean?"
"What if the dryads are mobilizing? Imagine if we had been fighting two of her. Or ten!"
"An unpleasant thought." Roech stated, rubbing at his chin. "We'd be dead."
Erek nodded emphatically. "Exactly. That is why we need to find her, preferably before she heals from the wounds we inflicted, and hurt her until she agrees to tell us everything there is to know about who she is, and how she learned to fight like she does. If the dryads are becoming militant, especially if they plan on marching against civilization, then we need to be ready."
"Okay." Jerod stated after a momentary, uncomfortable silence. "I'm sold. Where do we start?"
"Wait a moment." Roech interjected before the conversation could progress.
"What is it?"
"There are a couple of things that I would like to know before we agree to blindly follow you into this thing. Starting with this; why dryads? Of all the mythical creatures a man can make his name by killing, why did you choose them?"
"I hate them." Erek glared at the other man, daring the other man to question his intentions further. "I was fourteen years old, and Endek had already left the house, when their foulness first touched my life. My father, a good and upstanding man, was seduced by a dryad, and killed my mother when she discovered that he was cheating on her. When he attacked me, I was forced to kill him with my own hands in order to preserve my life and end his curse."
Roech and Jerod listened as their would-be leader went on, telling them of the townsfolk that had helped him hunt the 'dryad' down and burn her alive. That much, at least, he was being honest about. Endek, silent in his bed, knew the truth of the matter. Erek and their father had been seeing the same woman, a half-dryad whore that had grown up apart from her mother's people, and upon realizing this, his younger brother had killed their father in a fit of jealous rage. Their mother hanged herself a few hours later, in grief. Erek had then gone on to whip the townsfolk into a frenzy with his tears and story of a dryad ruining his family, and they had, indeed, found the woman and burned her alive in her own hut.
It was a travesty of justice. Endek knew that. Had he been a greater man, he would have taken issue with his brother and made him pay for his sins. He was not, however, made of such stern stuff. Erek was all that was left of his family. That was more important than vengeance, he told himself not for the first time.
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Also read read Web of Lives, a supplemental chapter written by Kimmy and Amy.
Holy crap, I made it to part 10! Go me!
Treyp came awake frantically clawing at the blanket that she had, at some point during her rest, pulled up and over her head. Why she found herself in such a state of blind panic she could not say, though some detached portion of her mind remarked to her that she probably looked quite silly. Since her father's visit, which she felt had been very real, her dreams had been less than comforting. Sometimes, she saw the faces of the men who had attacked her standing over her, having finally caught up to her. These were among the more pleasant dreams she had been having. It was the dreams that she did not remember that seemed to be the worst. She would wake from these breathing heavily and crying, or utterly terrified as she was at this moment.
Finally dragging the blanket clear of her face, and panting as every sharp motion she made drove hot spikes of pain into her back, ribs, and thigh, she gasped and dragged in a long, deep breath of air. That hurt too. Then, she froze. There was somebody unfamiliar in the room with her. Though she could not see, she knew with absolute certainty that this person was standing at the foot of her bed and watching her.
Oh gods, she thought, and then spoke. Her voice was not quite shrill, but its edge was unmistakable. "Who is it? Who's there?!"
There was naught but silence from her visitor, and it stretched on for several uncomfortable moments. She felt as though her heart were trying to hammer its way out of her chest. It was not until she tried to rise up, gritting her teeth against the intense protests of her bound wounds, that she received a timid response.
"My apologies miss." It was the voice of an elderly woman, kind and sweet. "You startled me, when you started thrashing around like that."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Kella. Geran asked me to look in on you from time to time." The woman made her way around the to the left hand side of the bed as she spoke. With a gentle, calloused hand on the girl’s shaking shoulder, she urged the dryad girl to lay back. "There now. Easy."
"Oh. Kella. Okay." Treyp let herself relax. She had met the elderly woman once before, when she had gone to see her uncle in his rooms.
"It sounds as though you were expecting somebody else, Miss."
"I... no. Not exactly." With a quick shake of her head, made awkward against the softness of the pillow, she dismissed the unspoken question. "I had a bad dream is all."
"I see. Well, that's not uncommon."
Satisfied that the younger woman was going to stay put, Kella moved away from her bedside and went to work on tidying up the room. The gentle swish-swish of a feathered duster reached Treyp's ears, and she could smell the soap and water when the chambermaid opened the door to retrieve something, likely a bucket and a rag, from the hallway. Minutes passed and, becoming accustomed to the activity, she began to drift away again.
Kella's gentle voice startled her awake again. "They're all terribly worried about you, you know."
"Wh-what?"
"I’m sorry, miss. Did I wake you? I thought your eyes were still open."
"That happens sometimes. Don't worry about it. I would rather be awake for a while anyway." Treyp tried a weak smile in the other woman's general direction. "What did you say?"
"Oh, I was just saying that your friends are all terribly worried about you. Geran and that strange child that pretends to be Arimus. Eyrenya." This last name she said with much affection. Apparently, she had met the nymph and liked her. After the briefest of pauses, the woman went on. "Kurik, Talitha, even that quiet boy with the black hair."
"Not... too much, I hope." Was Kella talking about Matthew? Treyp had been hoping that he would be there, or that any of her familiar friends would be there, when she woke up. She had been so in-and-out of it that she supposed she must have missed most of them when they came to see her.
"You can never worry too much for your loved ones, Sweetie. After all, you only get one chance to be with them."
The older woman was beside her again, and Treyp forced herself to refrain from jerking away when she patted her hand, and then squeezed it. "And don't think I didn't see the way you perked up a moment ago. I'm sure he'll be in to see you again soon."
Chuckling softly at the brightly blushing dryad, Kella left the room.
------------------------
Three men, Erek, Roech, and Jerod had gathered round the bed in which Endek, Erek's older brother and usually the most physically capable of their company, lay. He had taken the brunt of the beating that the dryad girl had given them. A broken jaw and a broken collarbone would see him lain up for weeks, even with the magic-practicing healer Erek had found for him.
A somber silence rested comfortably between the four men. Endek, of course, with his jaw held closed by mystical bonds, could say nothing. The rest simply had little to say. Word had come down from their employers that morning that there would not be another attempt at removing the dryad from the King's company. Things had gotten 'bigger than that,' they had been told. Dealing with the humiliation of being beaten so soundly by the girl was one thing. This was quite a nothing. This was like being told that they would simply have to live with their bruised pride, that they were as worthless as their first attempt at dealing with her. Perhaps that was not how the man called Thanik had meant his dismissal of their services on this issue to sound, but it was how they were taking it.
Erek placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, and squeezed. Stirring, the bigger man looked up at him with questioning eyes. His brother, standing over him, spoke in a low, conspirator’s voice. "I hope you understand why it has to be this way."
Endek looked away.
Turning his attention to the other two men, Erek met their eyes in turn. Jerod's were blue, and framed in a face that would forever look younger than he was. Roech's eyes were hard, his face rugged, marked clearly by the hard life he had led. Though he shared little, the others knew that he had grown up on the streets somewhere in the far north, and that he had seen more than his fair share of blood long before he had turned to soldiering as a profession.
"The girl has to die." Erek stated, his voice firm and unwavering.
"Even if we go against orders and try to see this happen," Jerod objected, "I think it only fair to point out that we were hardly equipped to deal with her the first time around."
"Truth." Roech agreed. "Though we know a little more about her now, it will still take more than bad intentions to see it done."
"I was chosen to lead our party for a reason, gentlemen." Erek growled, displeased by even the marginal resistance he was receiving. "I made my reputation by killing, capturing, and selling her kind on the underground slave markets."
"A bold claim, seeing as how you seemed just as surprised by her... prowess as we were."
"I was surprised." Erek agreed. "And that is one of the reasons that we have to do this. See, dryads? Usually they're more like a bull in a china cabinet. Strong, sure, fast, yes, but without finesse. If you know what to expect, taking them down is no more difficult than bringing down a Great Bear, or a particularly angry wild boar. This girl, though, she's been training. She knew exactly what she was doing when she attacked us."
"So what does that mean?"
"What if the dryads are mobilizing? Imagine if we had been fighting two of her. Or ten!"
"An unpleasant thought." Roech stated, rubbing at his chin. "We'd be dead."
Erek nodded emphatically. "Exactly. That is why we need to find her, preferably before she heals from the wounds we inflicted, and hurt her until she agrees to tell us everything there is to know about who she is, and how she learned to fight like she does. If the dryads are becoming militant, especially if they plan on marching against civilization, then we need to be ready."
"Okay." Jerod stated after a momentary, uncomfortable silence. "I'm sold. Where do we start?"
"Wait a moment." Roech interjected before the conversation could progress.
"What is it?"
"There are a couple of things that I would like to know before we agree to blindly follow you into this thing. Starting with this; why dryads? Of all the mythical creatures a man can make his name by killing, why did you choose them?"
"I hate them." Erek glared at the other man, daring the other man to question his intentions further. "I was fourteen years old, and Endek had already left the house, when their foulness first touched my life. My father, a good and upstanding man, was seduced by a dryad, and killed my mother when she discovered that he was cheating on her. When he attacked me, I was forced to kill him with my own hands in order to preserve my life and end his curse."
Roech and Jerod listened as their would-be leader went on, telling them of the townsfolk that had helped him hunt the 'dryad' down and burn her alive. That much, at least, he was being honest about. Endek, silent in his bed, knew the truth of the matter. Erek and their father had been seeing the same woman, a half-dryad whore that had grown up apart from her mother's people, and upon realizing this, his younger brother had killed their father in a fit of jealous rage. Their mother hanged herself a few hours later, in grief. Erek had then gone on to whip the townsfolk into a frenzy with his tears and story of a dryad ruining his family, and they had, indeed, found the woman and burned her alive in her own hut.
It was a travesty of justice. Endek knew that. Had he been a greater man, he would have taken issue with his brother and made him pay for his sins. He was not, however, made of such stern stuff. Erek was all that was left of his family. That was more important than vengeance, he told himself not for the first time.
Previous>> || Next>>
Also read read Web of Lives, a supplemental chapter written by Kimmy and Amy.