Where the Woods Grow Wild

by Nate Philbrick

  The badgers woofed and grunted amongst each other and the dryads kept a lively conversation of their own. Most of it revolved around dryad dames, old battles—against whom, Elodie never figured out—and who was the best at throwing spears. Elodie soon lost interest.

  When they ran out of things to brag about, Nettle, who rode just ahead of Elodie, started humming a tune. Tum added words, and soon even Root and Nim joined with their voices.

  The combination wasn’t particularly musical, but it was bold and lively, and it gave Elodie something to keep her mind busy.

  Sprouting warrior, throw your spear

  Lend your might to best the deep

  No merriment or rest or sleep

  When fetid fangs are near

  But if you hear the shifting growl

  Scurry home, lad, break no vow

  Strike no stone, bend no bough

  Lest Nayadu be on the prowl

  The dryads sang through the whole song twice.

  Then Elodie asked, “What’s Nayadu?”

  Nettle looked at her as if he had forgotten she was with them. “You could hear us?”

  “Of course I could, you’re right in front of me.”

  The young dryad flushed bright green.

  “It’s part of an old dryad composition,” said Tum. “It’s about one of our forest legends. Nayadu was a beast, a wild thing that took many forms. Some of the old, old dryads, the ones who’ve lived for a hundred and fifty years, claim they used to see Nayadu wandering the woods as a great bear or dashing among the trees as a squirrel. But they said her true form is too terrifying for anyone to look at. Nowadays, we dryads are a more sensible folk, and we know it’s just a story.”

  “When I was little, my sweet mother used to recite the words to me to make sure I never wandered far from home,” said Nettle. “She told me Nayadu might gobble me up. I used to believe her.”

  “Generally speaking, dryads don’t go wandering unless we have to,” said Tum.

  “Because of the Nayadu stories?”

  “Yes, and other things. Nasty things.”

  “Like fetid fangs,” Nettle offered cheerfully. Then he frowned. “Whatever those are.”

  Tum cuffed him on the head. “At the end of the day, human, you’re lucky to have ended up with us. You’re not from the forest, and if you’d gone off by yourself, who knows what you would have found?”

  Elodie disagreed, but she decided not to argue.

  Through the leafy ceiling dozens of yards above them, the dappled sunlight began to dim. Evening was closing in fast, and though her clothes had almost completely dried during the ride, Elodie hoped they reached their destination soon. A cold wasn’t something she wanted to add to her growing list of problems.

  The dryads slipped back into song now and then, belting out fragmented lines one moment and joining in for a full performance the next. By the time they had done this three times, Elodie thought drowning in the river would have been better than listening to the dryad’s merry croaking.

  She had mustered the courage to ask how much longer they had to go when Tum whipped up a hand at the front of the line. A few more whistles and kicks brought the badgers to halt.

  Elodie spotted a trail of smoke floating up through the trees farther ahead, though its source remained concealed by the forest. She thought they had arrived wherever the dryads were taking her, but a disgusted grunt from Root suggested otherwise.

  “I thought we weren’t going to come back this way,” said Nettle. “The only reason I fell off my badger is because the greedy thing smelled mushrooms and took off running.”

  Tum cleared his throat. “Yes, well, maybe I wasn’t paying so much attention to directions and whatnot.” He patted his badger fondly between the ears. “I don’t think yours is the only badger with a keen nose, Nettle. But no matter. It hasn’t set us off course. This time,” he said to the badger, “I’ll decide which way we go, you gluttonous grub-tub.”

  “Since we’re here, may we drop a hedgehog down his chimney?” Nettle sounded hopeful.

  “Yes,” said Root. “You go off a-hunting for hedgehogs while the rest of us sit here and watch the sun go down.” And he walloped him on the head.

  With a final shake of his head, Tum led the band around the hidden house. Elodie caught a glimpse of an earth bank with a chimney sticking out of it, but the badgers plodded away and the dwelling disappeared from view. She wondered who lived in it, not that it mattered much to her at this point.

  The dryads took her farther and farther into the woods, and she began to notice more signs of life. Birds and insects bigger than she had ever have wanted to see paid no heed to the dryads and their prisoner, though a few colorful squirrels dropped to lower branches to express their opinions.

  Elodie gradually began to appreciate just how beautiful the forest was. Sweeping branches and twisting roots flowed into a majestic tapestry, burrows and hollows pocketed the scenery like dozens of mysterious doors into deep and undiscovered lairs, and the patches of red and purple and yellow flowers made even the clover fields outside Bardun Village look like mere paintings of the real thing. The badgers splashed through streams as clear as washed windows and hopped along lengths of root so thick they could walk two abreast. Elodie almost forgot she was being held captive.

  Tum signaled the band to stop again. The dryads coaxed the badgers into silence. Without any movement they blended in almost seamlessly with the trees around them. Tum raised his spear and made signals to the others with his fingers. He and Root moved farther ahead, spears at the ready.

  “What’s going on?” Elodie asked the other two.

  Nim studied the forest behind them, his eyes narrowed to slits.

  “Don’t you smell it?” said Nettle.

  She sniffed the air. “Nothing out of the ordinary, I don’t think.”

  The young dryad shook his head at her in bewilderment. “How would you describe it, Nim?”

  “Quiet.”

  “That’s odd. How can a smell be quiet? I think it smells like feathers. Big feathers.”

  “No, I mean be quiet.”

  Nettle clamped his mouth shut.

  Elodie watched the dryads closely. Three of them had their backs turned to her, distracted by whatever it was she was supposed to be able to smell. Only Nettle stayed to guard her.

  She glanced at Tum one more time, slid off her badger, and bolted. She ran fast and she ran straight, ignoring the pain in her stiff legs. Nettle gave an incoherent shout of alarm, but she didn’t look back.

  Nim yelled after her, though the only word she understood was ‘stop’, and she had no intention of doing that. She willed herself to go faster, bounding over grasping roots and zigzagging around trunks to dodge any potential spears coming her way.

  Elodie headed back towards the earth bank with the smoking chimney. Anyone could live there, friend or foe, but she would take her chances.

  She didn’t get far. A winged creature swooped down to block her path. She skidded to a stop. Feathered wings filled her vision and beat up a swirl of leaves in her face. Paws grabbed her shoulders. Claws dug into her skin. She jerked her body around, twisting free of her assailant.

  It was a great lynx with wings like those of an eagle. Having failed its first attack, it swooped back up to the forest’s ceiling before circling and coming at her a second time.

  Elodie scrambled to get out of the cat’s path, but she tripped on her own feet and landed on her rear. The lynx reached for her.

  The dryads on their badgers leaped over her from behind and cut off the lynx’s descent with their spears. The lynx narrowly avoided impaling itself and spun off to the right.

  The dryads shouted at their badgers, weaving to and fro to keep themselves between Elodie and the lynx. The lynx had little interest in dryads and spears, however, and it flew away with a hiss.

  When she was sure the cat was gone, Elodie let out a rush of breath and tried to stand. Her legs thought it would be a better idea
to wobble like a marionette, landing her back on her backside in a trice.

  Root yanked her up. She brushed him away, annoyed both at his rough handling of her and at the fact that her heart wouldn’t stop hammering.

  “I warned you not to run off,” said Tum, jabbing his spear into the ground. “Beasts like that one are just one of the reasons. I’ll tell you once, and you’ll listen if you want to stay alive. The forest isn’t some quaint little garden for you to explore.”

  Tum whistled for Elodie’s badger. “We don’t have much farther to go,” he said. “Please, stop making our job harder than it has to be. You’ve been pleasant company, all things considered, but Root suggested tying you to a pole while you were still unconscious. Don’t make me regret saying no.”

  He yanked his spear free and spun away. Nettle offered her a sympathetic smile.

  The badgers took a few moments to reform the line. Elodie glared at her mount, as though it was the clueless animal’s fault she hadn’t gotten away. She would try again as soon as she got the chance. These dryads had yet to find out how stubborn she could be.

  * * *

  The sun was an orange disk, low behind the trunks, when the party of five hyper badgers, four dryad soldiers, and one exhausted girl came to a halt. The trees thinned out not far ahead, but with the sun so low, it was hard to see what waited beyond them.

  “We’re here,” said Tum, guiding his badger to stand beside Elodie’s. “Few outsiders have seen what you’re about to see. Now, I’m not dumb. I can tell you’re as ready to run as a hare in a butcher’s shop, but please don’t try it again. Nettle likes you, and even I have to admit you’ve been a fair sport so far. Let’s keep it that way.”

  “You still won’t tell me what you want from me?”

  Tum smiled faintly and patted her arm. “I may be a general, but even I have to follow orders.” Then he said to the others, “Let’s go.”

  He wheeled his badger around and headed for the tree line. The badgers grew restless, pawing the ground and tossing their shoulders. Even Elodie’s mount acted excited.

  “They know we’re home, and home means food,” said Nettle, clinging to his badger’s neck as the animal hopped around gleefully.

  “I don’t blame them,” said Elodie. “It must be nice to be able to go home.”

  Nettle caught her gaze. His eyes dropped, and he turned away quietly. The badgers pranced ahead, giving Elodie one last shake before clearing the trees. What Elodie saw next took her breath away.

  A lake shimmered before them, as smooth and glassy as Mayor Clarenbald’s polished desk. The water flared with sunset colors and mirrored the dark outlines of the trees. There was an island of pocketed stone in the middle of the lake, and from that island rose a fortress, a structure of stairways, balconies, and terraces that spiraled so wildly, they looked like part of the forest itself. The fortress was overtaken by vines, crawlers, and cascades of moss, and many of its towers and spires had crumbled long ago.

  “How has no one ever found this before?” said Elodie.

  “You’re a long way from the world beyond the woods,” said Tum. “This is the dryad palace, the domain of King Prickle himself. They say it has stood on that rock for hundreds of years.”

  “Did your people build it?”

  “Build it? Us? Nobody has time for that. We found it, and it was empty, so we moved in. Convenient, right?” He frowned. “Though it needs tidying up. Oh, well. Some other year.”

  “I hope you don’t expect me to swim across,” said Elodie.

  “If you knew what was in that water, you wouldn’t stick a toe in it,” said Nim.

  Tum shook his head. “Must you be so grim about everything? But no, we’re not swimming. Nettle, if you would.”

  “Oh, right!” Nettle unslung the wicker basket and dug through it.

  He threw out the leftover food, which the badgers snapped up, and rummaged around with both arms until he found what he was looking for. He handed Tum a sleek, curved horn. Tum raised the horn to his lips and blew. A sputtered bleat spat out, along with chunks of plum and breadcrumbs.

  “Nettle!”

  “Sorry.”

  Tum sighed, wiped fruit pulp from his mouth, and tried again. This time the horn rang true, a single note that sprang off the island rock and the fortress walls. Faint voices shouted incoherently from the gatehouse, followed by a shudder and a deep groan in the earth. The water in the lake trembled and broke as great stone pillars rose from below the surface. When they were level with the gate on the island, the pillars locked in place to form a bridge.

  Elodie watched the process in amazement. “How does it all work?”

  “Like I said, we didn’t build it. Not even King Prickle knows how all the gears and bolts are put together,” said Tum. “If it ever breaks, we’ll be in a spot of trouble. But it’s fun to watch, isn’t it?”

  The lake settled around the pillars. Across the bridge, the gates creaked open. The dryads kicked the badgers into motion, and they started across the bridge.

  Elodie looked over her shoulder at the receding forest. Behind those gates lay the unknown reason for her capture. Once in the palace, how hard would it be to get back out?

  Her legs itched with the urge to run. She could try again. She should. But before she could make up her mind, they passed under the arch.

  The gates shut.

  6. Mad King Prickle

  Aguilax returned as quickly as he had sped off. His feathers were ruffled and his ears down. “Those ruffians have spears,” he panted. “They tried to skewer me.”

  “What about Elodie?” Martin said. “Any sign of her?”

  “Oh, she’s with them, without a doubt. I flew in low, just to scout things out, you see, but I found the girl before I ever found the dryads. She was running like the wind behind schedule. Fast, that one.”

  “What happened? Did you tell her I was coming?”

  “I’m afraid my instincts were swifter than my brain,” said Aguilax. “She was moving fast, and I was moving fast, and the dryads were moving fast, so I thought the best thing would be to bring her here and explain myself later. But I didn’t want to harm her, and she’s got a vicious swing. Before I could change tactics, the dryads came a-galloping on their badgers. At that point it was fly away or get my wings clipped. If my tongue were as quick as my paws I might have better news.”

  Martin kicked at a tuft of grass.

  Aguilax licked a few patches of fur back into place. “On the bright side, now we know where she is and that she’s not hurt.”

  “You’re right,” said Martin. “I know she can take care of herself. Still, the sooner we both get back home, the better. I need to get to her.”

  Podgin put his hands to his head.

  “The dryads live in an abandoned fortress somewhere east of here,” said Illo. “I’ve never been there, but they say it’s on an island in the middle of a small lake. That’s where they’ll take Elodie.”

  “But why? Are they kidnappers?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Dryads are a reclusive people. I hardly ever see them out in these parts.”

  “Right. We got lucky, and I won’t waste it. I appreciate everything you’ve done to help. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “As much as I like that idea,” said Illo, “Fella told me to help you find Elodie, and she won’t let me back indoors if I quit before my job is properly done. Like it or not, you’re stuck with the three of us.”

  Podgin backed away, rubbing his beard. “Two, you mean. My feet are sore, and the stuffed mushrooms I wasn’t making have gotten cold.”

  Illo pinched his ear. “Don’t even think about it. Not two weeks ago you complained about falling into the lake on a truffle hunt. You’re the one who knows the quickest way to the dryad’s island from here. You’re coming with us.”

  “I do?” Podgin whimpered. “I am?”

  “If you won’t help out of kindness to a strang
er, do it for the spade and truffles.”

  “But I thought—”

  “Then you’re only wasting everyone’s time.”

  Podgin puckered his lips. “Very well. But we won’t make it far before dark.”

  True to her word, Illo jumped into action. She sent Podgin back into his buried house to fetch a small sack of food. She went with him to return Forest Flora and Fauna, from Floodweed to Fanged Fledglings. Aguilax scouted the nearby area to make sure the dryads hadn’t doubled back to come after him.

  “You never know what they’ll do for sport,” he said.

  While they tended to these matters, Martin struggled to re-lace his shoes with his fingers and teeth, a task he had yet to master. The others returned while he was finishing the second shoe.

  “Taste good?” Illo asked.

  “You don’t want to know. Are we ready?”

  They were, and they set off, following Podgin through the trees away from the earth bank. Now and then they came across evidence of the dryad’s trail, mostly in the form of badger diggings and droppings.

  “They’re moving quickly,” Illo pointed out on one such occasion. “I’ve never ridden a badger, but I imagine they can cover distances pretty well.”

  Darkness settled under the forest’s roof before the sun had fully set. Martin wanted to keep going, but Illo had them stop in a tight clearing. No amount of pleading swayed her from her decision to spend the night there.

  “Maybe people can see at night where you’re from,” she said. “In here, dark means dark, and we’re not taking any dumb risks.”

  “I can’t let them take her and do who-knows-what to her,” he protested.

  “Knock yourself out.” She pointed into the utter darkness. “It’s that way. More or less. Keep in mind not everything out there is as friendly as I am.”

  “She’s right,” said Aguilax. “You wouldn’t make it far.”

  “What about you? Don’t lynxes hunt at night? You can lead me.”