by Randi Darren
Looking over his shoulder, he checked and found Fes and the Dryad marching along behind him. Focusing on the path in front of him, he let his eyes unfocus, trying to pick out anything that didn’t fit the pattern of the road.
The same moment he caught sight of someone in the foliage next to the road, an attractive woman stepped out within arm’s reach of him.
There was no reason for someone to be out this far. Especially to make an entrance like she did.
His actions from Knight’s Ferry came back to him. He’d flashed money in a public fashion. This was all his fault.
He made a purchase that would have put a dent in anyone’s pocket. Did so with a bank note and asked for change.
Careless.
Grasping the hilt of his saber, Vince unsheathed and swung in the same motion. The speed of the attack caught the woman off guard.
So much so, that it wasn’t until his blade exited the left side of her neck with a wet swish that she realized her error.
“To the rear!” Vince called out, taking several steps backwards. Putting himself close to the Dryad.
The headless corpse of the woman fell to its knees and then lay still. Blood spurted from the stump with each beat of her heart.
Three men rushed at him, materializing from the same area the woman had stepped out from. They were all wearing brown leathers and had their swords out.
A deep-throated yell from behind was his only indicator that Fes was engaged as well.
“Dryad, get out of here, keep yourself safe. Come back when it’s over,” Vince called out.
Stepping forward, Vince skewered one of the men through the throat. Backpedaling once more, he was left with two attackers. Both seemed very unsure about the whole thing now that they’d already suffered two causalities.
Not wasting the time for witty banter or anything else so cliché, Vince went on the attack.
Flashing his saber out in a feint at the man on the right, Vince stepped to the left and brought his sword back around towards the man on the left.
The man on the right fell backwards while Vince’s sword slammed into the man on the left’s forward leg.
Crossing his feet one over the other to move with the strike, Vince drove his left hand into the now wounded man’s side.
Dropping to his unwounded knee, the would-be bandit tried to lift his weapon to defend himself.
Stepping in close, Vince wrapped his arm around the man’s head and leaned it backwards, sliding his saber forward at the same time.
Skin parted and the sound of a whistling windpipe gurgling filled the air as Vince’s saber slid through the man’s stretched neck.
Dropping the dying man, Vince moved towards the last attacker in front of him.
Apparently, the bandit had suddenly realized the error of his ways and started to turn around.
Unsheathing a throwing knife from his belt, Vince swept his left hand forward. The blade flipped end over end to embed itself in the back of the man’s knee. The strength of the throw buried it into flesh up to the handle.
Collapsing to his hands and knees, the man turned his head to see Vince closing in on him.
“Please, ha—” the man started, before Vince’s blade speared through his heart. Pulling the blade back out, Vince turned to see what was going on with Fes and the Dryad.
The edge of a blade slid along his hardened leather breastplate and then slammed into his collarbone. Skittering off the bone, the blade burrowed underneath it and then into him.
Reaching up, Vince struck the blade from the hand of the man who had tried to stab him in the back and brought his saber around.
Catching the man in the armpit, Vince’s saber tore through the joint and came out the top, severing the arm entirely.
Screaming, the bandit fell to his knees, his right hand clasping at the missing limb.
Vince smashed the hilt of his blade into the man’s windpipe, crushing it. He’d die either from the blood loss or the inability to breathe.
Reaching up, he unhooked a strap of his armor and exposed the upper part of his chest. Vince frowned at the bloody gash, then pressed his hand to the wound firmly and turned his gaze on Fes. He saw three dead bandits around the warrior. Two nearly split in half.
She was in the process of withdrawing her blade from the third’s sternum. Her eyes were blazing when she unstuck the blade and turned to find Vince watching her.
“Fourth go—” she nearly shouted, before her eyes fell on the armless dying man on the ground in front of Vince. “Ah, good.”
Vince nodded once and then looked to the surrounding flora. “Dryad? Damn, we really need to get her to tell us her name. Errr, Meliae?” Vince tried.
Creeping out of a low bush, the Dryad came into view. Unharmed and whole.
Whole as a dying Dryad can be, at least.
“Vince, you wounded,” Fes stated, coming up to him. She’d re-sheathed her blade and her hands immediately came up to his chest.
“Yeah, he got me. Would have put it in my spine if I hadn’t turned around,” Vince explained. Lifting one hand to look at the wound, he was shocked at the amount of blood that flowed out. “Damn.”
Pressing his hand as firmly to the wound as he possible could, Vince sat himself down on the ground. He wasn’t sure if he could keep himself standing if it got worse, despite wanting to keep the wound much higher than his feet. “Get a dressing out for me, Fes? I’m not a master of anatomy, but I’m fairly sure there’s a vein in there somewhere. So long as it didn’t get nicked, this’ll be fine in no time. If it did… bury me somewhere nice.”
Fes pulled her pack from her shoulder and bent over it, rooting around for the requested bandage.
Vince looked to the Dryad as she sidled closer to him. She had a curious look. Almost like he imagined someone would look if they’d been caught doing something wrong.
He gave her a weary smile.
Maybe she blames herself.
“Don’t blame yourself for me catching that sword,” Vince said. “I could have handled the auction better and not been so flashy. I let my anger over the situation get the better of me.”
Blood started to seep from between his fingers, though it didn’t seem to be as bad as when he’d pulled his hand away. Dropping his saber at his side, Vince flexed his free hand.
Maybe we got lucky after all and this is just a bleeder. Getting too many new scars as of late, though.
Not paying attention, Vince was startled to realize the Dryad was nearly atop him. Her green eyes were staring into his face, her small hands halfway between her chest and his.
Unable to stop himself, he felt his empathic power rise up and link into the Dryad.
Curiosity, fear, shame, and guilt. Determination.
Vince wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault again. Instead, he felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth.
In her right hand was a softly glowing seed pod. He’d seen them often enough in the wild to know what it was.
Her eyes watched him, green and awake. The haze that had been hanging over her had dissipated.
Tender, pale fingers picked at the hand covering the wound in his chest. Deciding to see what she’d do, he lifted his hand to give her access to it.
Blood pumped out and flowed from the gash. He couldn’t tell if it was any better or worse, but he doubted releasing the pressure was helpful.
Then the Dryad reached forward with her right hand and stuffed the seed pod into the wound. Using her left hand, she dragged the ball of her palm against his saber and then pushed her bloody palm atop his wound.
Pushing firmly, she looked into his eyes and gave him a cautious smile.
Nothing happened at first, and the only thing he could hear was Fes rooting around in her pack, muttering to herself. To him, it sounded like the contents of her pack had shifted around in the fracas and she was having a hard time finding anything.
A warmth came into his arms and legs. In retrospect, he hadn’t even noticed it
earlier, but he’d actually started to get cold. Never a good sign. Certainly not a sign of a fatal injury, but not a good one.
Oddly enough, Vince felt like something was moving around inside him.
“My tree grows,” the Dryad whispered, her eyes still staring into him unrelentingly.
“Did… did you plant your tree in me?” Vince asked her.
Before his very eyes, he watched as her skin gained a healthy glow. Her eyes cleared completely, her cheeks coloring.
The brown-and-green shimmer to her coloring came back nearly immediately.
“I did. Your blood reeks of strength. It empowers me. My tree can breathe through your veins. You are now my tree’s home.” Her voice was smooth, rich, strong. It was deeper than he’d expected for such a small frame.
“I see. So… why? And also, you’re feeling talkative now?”
“Your wound looked bad. You treated me kindly and didn’t use me as many would have. You have a relationship with your Orc that I don’t understand. Now that I can feel you…” The Dryad paused at that. A ticklish feeling in his brain came over him for a second. “I can tell that you’re a good person. Your body is different as well. You’re not completely human.” The Dryad tilted her head to the side.
“I speak now because I choose to. Before you ask, I have no given name. I am me. I am Meliae.”
Vince digested all that and found himself mostly at a loss.
Then Fes was there, her face between himself and the Dryad, looking from him to her and back.
“Seed grower safe, good. Good job, Vince. Seed grower healed Vince?” asked the Orc, seemingly unconcerned with the situation.
“Yes, Fes. Vince is healed.” As if to demonstrate, Meliae lifted her hand from the bloody mess only to reveal smooth, clean skin.
“Ah, good. Seed grower is healed, too. Good Meliae,” Fes said, giving Meliae a big smile and patting her on the head.
Vince frowned as he felt things continue to shift around in his chest, stomach, and head. He wasn’t quite sure about having a tree growing inside him, or if it was even possible, but he couldn’t deny it’d happened. There was no mistaking that seed pod as anything but a seed pod.
“Thanks, Meliae,” Vince said, patting the Dryad on the shoulder. “Alright, Fes. Let’s strip the bodies of anything of worth and dump them off to the side. The wolves will feast on their corpses and we’ll make coin on their belongings. As Father always said, waste not, want not.”
Home was around the bend, so to speak. They’d picked up the pace since Meliae had recovered. What had looked like it might end up taking an extra three days to get home ended up being only one. They were even arriving as the sun rose.
Meliae had really come alive in the days since. Her appetite had skyrocketed, and she’d started to vanish on occasion, only to show up with nuts, fruits, and wild vegetables.
Meliae isn’t her name. She doesn’t have one.
And yet they called her Meliae.
In the days following her recovery, she’d become equally parts silent and talkative. Small talk and chitchat weren’t in her repertoire.
Fes remained unrelenting in their nightly activities. Meliae never shied away from watching, yet never commented or spoke of it, either.
Other than that, nothing changed that Vince could identify.
Except the fact that he had a tree growing in him. At times, he could feel it when it shifted or twisted itself around. He could only assume it was expanding. It would need as much space as it could wring out of a human torso, and was contorting itself to do so.
At least it caused him no discomfort. Well, he wasn’t sure about that. He couldn’t tell if the Dryad was blocking discomfort or if it really didn’t bother him.
Meliae had been a little thin and gaunt-looking when they had set out. Now she had a full-bodied figure and face that was a little distracting at times. The change had been completed in a single day.
Finally, Vince could see the two-story house through the trees. Fes and Meliae were already walking up to the front door as Vince circled around the front of the house.
“Everything appears as it should be,” Vince said, inspecting the dirt track that led up to the entryway. “No tracks, prints, or marks. Good. There’s a room I’ve been using to store ‘prizes’ in. We’ll drop this junk off there. I’ll be removing Meliae’s collar after that.
The Dryad looked at him sharply. Vince ignored it. He didn’t feel like answering her insistent questioning when she got chatty right now.
Fes grunted and looked down. She’d apparently forgotten her collar and now took a moment to strip it off. Holding it in one hand, she opened the front door and disappeared inside, Meliae following her in.
Taking the steps leading up to the porch, Vince stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
Fes waited in the entry hall for him. Pointing at a side room, he moved to join her.
The warrior woman opened the indicated door. Looking inside, she hesitated and then dropped the loot they’d taken from the bandits.
Turning around, she walked towards their bedroom, her hands already working at stripping her armor and gear off.
Shaking his head with a grin, Vince collected the gear Fes had dropped and stepped into his prize room.
Assorted through the room were racks, stands, and dressers. Everywhere was loot from the dead and ruins of the Wastes. He’d organized it and laid it out according to his own mental plan for it.
It took Vince only a few minutes to put away all the additions and step back out of the room. Fes passed by him, dressed in her normal clothes.
“Going to go stretch. Relax. Train. Be back for lunch,” Fes said, stopping in front of him.
“Mm, alrighty. Don’t wander off too far. While it sounds fun hunting you down in the woods, I’m not sure this is the right time for play.” Vince grinned at her, putting a hand on his hip.
Fes guffawed at that and gave him an appraising eye. “Already caught. No need to hunt me.” Reaching up, she gently patted his cheek with her callused fingers.
Opening the front door, Fes left the home and closed the door behind her.
“So, Meliae, how do you—” Vince stopped talking as he turned his head to find the Dryad. She stood in the middle of the hallway, her fingers clutched around the collar.
“Yeah, let’s take care of that first. Have a seat at the table. I’ll go get the battery.” Vince pointed vaguely at the dining room off beyond the far end of the hall.
Vince stripped off his gear as he moved. Flipping his saber onto the bed, he shucked his armor off in front of the door as he passed.
He moved to another door and popped it open. It served as a storage room for tools and other things he needed, but not regularly. Included among the tools was a battery his father had found somewhere.
It had a simple function: Drain whatever item the contact point touched of energy when activated. This included magical energy. It would then retain the charge for a period of time or until used.
Exactly like an old-tech battery.
Picking up the strange bucket-looking thing, Vince went to the dining room.
Sitting in a chair, Meliae was looking around the room. Her fingers were still flexing around the collar around her neck.
“Alright. Hands tight on your collar, Meliae. When this goes off, I need you to grab hold of that collar and pull as hard as you can. It’s going to drain all the magical energy from it in one go. The collar recharges itself pretty quick. My dad figured out that this little doohickey does a solid job of giving you about a single second to pull it off. After that, the collar won’t come off. It actually adapts, frighteningly enough,” Vince explained.
Stepping in front of the little Dryad, he upended the battery and pressed it to his forearm. Hitting the discharge stud, he felt the leftover charge from the battery pass into him.
Normally, it energized him and gave him a little flutter of nerves. This time, it… vanished. Like it never even happened.
“Oh. That was lovely,” Meliae said. Vince looked down to find the Dryad staring up at him, her green eyes had a faint sheen to them. “Will you do that again after you drain the collar?”
“Uhm, sure. Did it… did the tree take it? Take the energy?” Vince asked, placing the contact point to the collar.
“Yes. It was very tasty. I’d say my tree jumped ahead at least a month in its growth. Very helpful.”
“Good to know.” Fingering the trigger, he gave the Dryad a small smile. “Ready?”
“Yes. Though I value my freedom, I have to ask, why? Why free a living eternal slave to you?” Her voice was quiet, as if she were afraid of her own question. Or the answer.
“Don’t need slaves. Don’t want them, either.” Vince activated the battery. A crackling filled the room as the collar was drained instantly.
Quick as lightning, Meliae gripped the collar and snapped it free from her neck. Her little hands dropped it to the ground as if it might leap at her and reattach itself on its own.
Panting, Meliae looked up at him, her eyes triumphant.
“Yeah, it can wind you when it gets deactivated. The damnable thing takes a bite out of you as it tries to refill itself.” Picking up the collar, Vince flipped it over his shoulder to hang on himself. Turning the battery over again, he pressed the contact point to his forearm again.
“You sure? This won’t hurt me? Never tried a full battery charge.”
Meliae kept panting, her green eyes plastered to his face. She gave him a sharp nod of her head.
Without another word, Vince activated the discharge function. Fully expecting to get turned into a fried squirrel.
Except nothing happened. To him, at least.
Meliae’s eyes, on the other hand, glowed a bright green for a few seconds before the light died away.
Vince could actually feel whatever it was inside his chest rapidly expanding. Coiling itself tighter. In fact, he could make out what looked like light brown veins crawling up his arms, before settling into the skin and disappearing.
“That was like an entire year. We should get more slave collars,” said Meliae. Looking back to the Dryad, he was momentarily caught off guard. She was staring hard at him. Almost with a hungry glint to her eyes and eager cast to her mouth.
