Spank or Treat 2016

The past couldn’t change his present. The dryads remained unforgiving and he was out of time. Voices echoed across the snow and he pulled out his spyglass to scan the snowy valley behind him. Riders and dogs forged through the drifts, heading his way.

No hope for it. He’d have to brave the forest. Quinn cursed under his breath and picked his way into the undergrowth. The bushes within held no snow, but slowed his passage. He resisted the urge to climb. If he wanted any friendliness from the dryads he had to respect their homes. He pushed his way deeper among the trees and pulled off his bow as he searched for a good place to hide and wait.

Settling behind some thick rhododendrons, he pushed his white hood off and grimaced at the cold biting his ears. He notched an arrow and held it loosely as he scanned the tree line. Black trunks and shrubs obscured most of his view, but sound carried well as his trackers approached.

“Cripes, it’s the feckin’ dryad forest, it is. I ain’t goin’ in there!” The rough voice barely made it over the yelps and barks of the hounds.

“Don’t be such a ninny, Garlic. You know he went in there and he killed the Cap’n. He couldn’t have made it far. Go on, now.” Quinn recognized the captain’s second-in-command.

“No one comes outta there alive, y’hear? I ain’t goin’ in.” Garlic stood his ground.

The Second sighed. “Then send in the hounds. That’s what they’re for, right?”

But the dogs only milled around in the snow and whined, picking up the fear of their handler. Quinn’s neck prickled with the dryads’ magic, but he held his silence and waited.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” A whip cracked and the hounds yelped, but none entered the trees. “Fine. I’ll show you cowards how it’s done.”

The Second spurred his horse toward the break in the undergrowth, but the animal reared and squealed in protest. He cursed and yanked the reins, forcing his mount between the trunks. When the understory proved too thick to pass, he hacked at it with his sword, scoring the bark and bushes with his blade.

Whispers and a subsonic rumbling spread through the woods, raising the hair on the back of Quinn’s neck. A breeze rattled the bare branches, but he saw no other movement beyond the man slashing his way into the forest. Quinn held his bow in a tight grip and breathed shallowly to keep the white plumes steaming from his nose small.

Suddenly the horse screamed as vines wrapped around its legs with thorns large enough to see from a distance. The animal struggled, jerking and lurching regardless of the man’s grip on its mouth. Bloody foam sprinkled the trunks and bushes around it and the man shouted in frustration and fear.

The horse broke free and reared again, tossing the man from its back before plunging out of the forest toward its herdmates. The Second hit the ground with a grunt and slowly turned over. He muttered balefully and pushed up, only to be pinned to the ground with two great spears. He shrieked as he writhed around the one through his gut, but the second in his shoulder held him still.

“Akers?” The men outside sounded scared.

“I told yous.” Garlic pulled the hounds back from the trees. “I told yous no one goes in that comes out.”

Akers’s cries settled down to whimpers and he tried to reach for his sword, but the thorny vines curled around the hilt and dragged the blade into the underbrush. Tall men appeared in the forest as if pine boughs had learned to walk. Intricate tattoos covered the exposed portions of their skin, giving the appearance of fine-grained wood. Only three stood around the pegged man, but Quinn suspected the trees hid others.

“Men are not welcome here, human. The message has been made clear.”

“Please, please, I meant no harm,” Akers wheezed.

“You hacked at our trees, scarred them, broke our brother shrubs’ branches.” The dryad’s voice remained implacable. “For that there is a price.”

Akers struggled again, but the spears held him fast. “We were chasing an assassin who killed our friend. I had to get through. He came in first…”

“But he did no damage and he will be dealt with.”

Quinn’s gut sank, but he held still. No need to draw attention to himself quite yet.

“Please…”

The lead dryad stared for a long time then nodded. “Very well, I shall grant you relief.”

“Thank you.” Akers relaxed just before a vine snaked around his throat. He inhaled to protest, but the vine tightened and he squeaked his panic.

“I relieve you of your ignorant life and you may take your lack of respect with you. Begone.” The dryad turned away as the vine choked Akers into silence, his body kicking and shaking. An eerie crunch filled the forest followed by a wet tearing and the head rolled free of the twitching body.

“Take the body and bury it. It shall offer nourishment for the saplings.” The dryad leader nudged the head with his boot toe. “Toss this out to his compatriots to renew the warnings.”

Two dryads grasped the body and tore it from its spear moorings before dragging it away. A third grasped the head and hurled it out of the trees to land among the men and dogs still waiting to see if Akers would return.

Not today.

Panic ensued and they scrambled away from the forest back the way they’d come.

Quinn had seen his fair share of death—had dealt most of it—but beheading by vine topped his list of things to avoid at the moment. He remained crouched, weighing his options of escape. While they hadn’t attacked him outright, he suspected the dryads knew where he hid. Quinn returned the arrow to his quiver and hung his bow across his chest. While he could probably take down several of them, he stood on their home turf and they could easily call in reinforcements.

No hope for it. He’d have to beg forgiveness and asylum. He tugged the hood back onto his head and stood. No point in hiding. They knew where he was. He latched the restraints on his visible knives and hatchet, and crossed his arms over his chest as he waited.

Quinn heard them before they appeared, but the space between sound and arrival couldn’t be measured. Faced with the same dryad leader as Akers, Quinn raised his hands from his chest, opening his fingers wide.

     “I seek asylum with the dryads of the Arborium and wish to speak with the Keeper of the Grove.”