I’m exhausted after the battle and put my hands on my knees to rest.

The vulture lands at my feet. “We cannot stay here. The husks will be back for their dead.”

“To put in the trees, right?”

The vulture bobs her crooked beak. “The dryad takes every body that falls in the wood. Whether her own or yours. And they are recycled, endlessly. Injected with more and more of her venom. The bodies can even be repaired if enough of the flesh remains; plant matter fills in for the missing skin and bones.”

“You mean that green gunk?”

“She can change the tree sap. Make it like blood for the husks. So as long as she has trees she’ll never run out.”

I stroke my chin. “That doesn’t seem likely. Running out of trees I mean.”

“No.”

“How do you know all this?”

The bird flaps its wings. “I fly everywhere. And I talk to every animal. And I watch every event. Like how your elves are being pushed back: their army is starting a retreat. She has too many husks now. Soon it will become a route. So at this point –”

“it’s up to us,” I finish the sentence.

“And you won’t have much time. Once all the husks have returned from the battle no amount of prophecy will save you I’m afraid.”

I nod and turn to my companions. “We need to move on.”

The cleric smiles at me.

The elf is gaping. “You can talk to animals?”

“Ugh. Yes?”

A shadow comes over the elf’s face. “Could it actually be true?” he whispers, like he’s actually considering the prophecy for the first time, and that it might apply to me.

The cleric claps him on the shoulder. “Faith comes to each man in his own time.”

The elf shoots him a look. “I hate trite religious statements.”

“Yes, I did as well when I was your age.”

“I also hate elderly condescension.”

“Yes, I did as well when –“

“Just shut-up.”

I laugh as I sheathe my sword. “You ok, Dauntless?”

My steed strides-up beside me. “I’m fine, sire. If a little worse for wear. Though we’ve lost the remainder of our provisions I believe.”

Crap.

We walk back and look at remains of the food sacks and water pouches. They’ve been trampled and sliced, and though I wouldn’t mind eating off the ground much of it is tainted with streaks of the green globs that emanated from the broken husks. Eating something that’s been touched by dryad magic sounds about as appealing as taking an arrow to the knee.

“This water flask seems useable,” says the cleric bending down. “As well as that pouch over there.” He points to another. “But the food…”

“It’s fine,” I say resiliently. “We can make it without food at this point.”

The elf laughs. “How do you know that?”

“Because we’re almost there.”

The elf glowers at me. “And you know that without a map.”

I close my eyes, remembering the wide gap in the trees I saw from the sky. “I think I saw it.”

“Think?” says the elf.

“You did,” says the vulture. “That clearing holds only one tree: hers.”

“Her tree?”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“She has taken form in it: the largest, strongest tree ever grown. Its roots are so vast they cover the floor, and nothing grows there but the one, solitary tree.”

“Stop talking to the damn bird,” says Myran.

“Easy, prince,” says the cleric. “We need all the help we can get at this point.”

“This bird saved me,” I reply. “And now she’s saving us.” I turn back to her. “Are there others like you? Animals who will fight against the dryad?”

The vulture pauses, considering. “I believe so. I will gather who I can. Not all of them are on our side though.”

I chuckle darkly. “Believe me, I know.”

The vulture flies off and we trudge over the husk bodies and push ourselves ever deeper into the forest. I know the general direction and the voice draws me as well. It seems to get stronger as we walk. Sometimes I whistle or even talk to myself just to block out the messages.

“You can hear the voice can’t you?” the cleric asks me suddenly after several hours.

I’ve been worried about this, that one of them would start to suspect. Makes sense it’s the cleric I guess. The elf is too bowled over by his own prowess to spend much time thinking about me.

“Yes,” I say quietly.

Cyrus nods. “Just as the last prince was. It’s to be expected I suppose, that she would use the same tactic that worked so well before.

“And she’s pulling me toward her, Cuyrus. Like she wants me to find her.”

“Hmmm.” Cyrus’s voice rumbles. “Just don’t lose your actual mind. That would be unfortunate.”

I look at the cleric to see if he’s serious.

He definitely is.

Best not to think about such things.

We rest for a few hours before daylight. I agree to take the first watch. It’s the least I can do for loosing our provisions, or at least that’s what the elf tells me. He’s already asleep of course, or at least I think he is. He’s breathing regularly but tossing and turning, like he’s having a nightmare or something. Hell, maybe he is.

“This whole place is a nightmare.”

“Aww, it’s not so bad,” the voice responds.

The sound has changed again. Like it’s teasing me this time. Almost playful. cute even.

Ugh.

I’m so sick of having the dryad in my head. I lay back and look up at the trees around me. We checked to see if any harbored husks when we pitched camp. We didn’t see anything then but who the hell knows anymore. Maybe they pop out of the ground too.

“Nothing would surprise me anymore,” I mutter.

“Are you sure about that? Nothing at all?” the voice says.

I groan. Swiveling my head to the right I see two bright red orbs staring back at me, their pupils dancing with amusement. I gawk.

You have got to be kidding me.

“You!”

“Me!” says the demon, delighted at my shock, and grinning ear to ear.

I bolt upright. “What are you doing here?”

The demons jumps to her feet and starts hopping around. “The cute boy is talking to me! The cute boy is talking to me!”

“Stop that! Are you crazy?”

The demon points at me. “You were going to ignore me. Never speak to me again. But now look, here we are, friends once more.”

“We were never friends.”

“Shh. Don’t speak so loud. You don’t want to wake your friends.” She squints suspiciously at Myran. “If they are your friends that is.”

“They’re better friends than you are.”

The demon cowers back. “Oh, really? Such harsh words for little old me?”

I sigh. “You’re right. I never should’ve said anything to you.”

“Too late,” she starts hopping again. “Too late. Too late. Too late.”

“Alright,” I say exasperated. “Just stop hopping.”

The demon stops and curtsies with her miniscule skirt. “Your wish is my command.”

“What do you want?” I ask again.

“Why just to help you of course.”

“Help me how?”

“By keeping you awake.”

“I’m already awake.”

She puts her hands on her hips and leans forward. “I know. Hence the word ‘keeping’.”

“I don’t need your help for that.”

She holds up her finger. “On the contrary, my boyfriend.”

“I’m not your boyfriend.”

“You are exhausted, your belly is empty, and the dryad keeps banging around in your skull. That’s as potent a combination for sleep as there is in my book.”

I shrug. “So what? Shouldn‘t you want to the dryad to win. She’s a spirit like you, right?”

“Ohh, but not all spirits are my friends.”

“Like angel,” I suggest, and for a moment something changes in that pixi dream girl face, a flash of something underneath, a very different sort of face that is more monstrous than magical. I scoot back some more.

It’s gone in a second though and the demon waves angel away. “Well, yes, that goes without saying. And to be fair, I don’t feel the same amount of…. displeasure at the Dryad that I do that angel. But the dryad serves the sorceress. And I serve you.”

“I doubt that very much.”

The demon just continues. “The sorceress has awakened the old gods. She used the onyx to call them forth from their slumber, to aid her in her quest to dominate the world.”

“Unbelievable,” I mutter.

“Oh it’s believable. People know the value of power. Of course now that the onyx is broken I suppose there is some question as to whether they still serve her or their own ends. But from your perspective it looks pretty much the same I imagine.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that either way there is still a pack of wild boars bearing down on this campsite.”

“What?” I draw my sword. “Where?”

“Good thing I kept you awake.”