Wild Wastes 6 -Ch 7-

Vince felt like his head was full of nonsense.

Somehow he’d gotten through the meeting with the Dryads without difficulty. In fact, they hadn’t even asked him to contribute, speak, or respond in any way.

They simply told him about everything that was going on in their city and their lives. Everything that’d changed since Yosemite had shown up and everything that was going on with the Dryads of Europe.

Dea hadn’t offered anything further and he felt like she had been busy.

The fact that Petra, Yaris, and the other goddesses, hadn’t caught up to him yet, left him feeling a bit odd. Like he was somehow doing something wrong.

Yaris knows where I am.

She was going to go talk to Petra.

If they need me, they’d come get me.

For one reason or another, they think me being here is better for the time being.

I’ll… ask why when they catch up with me.

“Is this what Yosemite is like?”

Vince looked up from his partially consumed meal.

It was late in the afternoon to the point that it would soon be the evening. The sun was nearing the edge of the horizon.

All around were people moving about in their daily lives.

There were a great many people of every race he expected. He also spotted a number of Legion of Yosemite soldiers moving about.

They looked just like regular Legionnaire’s but had the emblem of Yosemite at the collar as well as Yosemite military markings at the shoulder.

As far as he could see, everything looked far better than it had been when he’d first visited here. There were a few unmistakable Battle Dryads here and there as well.

Those who had remained part of the city, not joined to his Grove, and hadn’t joined the Crown’s Guard or the Bellum Dryadum.

They’d been kitted out in Legionnaire armor though the more common editions of it. As if they were a local police force.

“More Dryads than normal but yeah, pretty Yosemite,” Vince admitted and leaned into his sandwhich. He took a bite out of it. “Really depends on what part of Yosemite your in but there’s usually a local species that holds the majority, but all are welcome everywhere.

“Everything gets blended till there is no one race.

“Though the Elves always try to push themselves upward. I’ve already told them I’m going to curb that if they try to make themselves more equal than others but so far they’ve behaved.

“I think it’s just a response to how long most of them served as slaves and the like. A natural reaction to want to put themselves into a place that they can’t be attacked from again.”

“That makes sense,” Johanna admitted and moved in toward her own sandwhich and stopped. Then she leaned away from it. “You know, my priesthood crossed the border. They all escaped into your lands. They’ve been practically sprinting to make it down to Fort Legion.

“I want them to make it back to Yosemite and start there. It sounds like there’s a lot of magical races there that aren’t part of the Dryad or Elven race.”

“Smart,” Vince conceded with a sharp nod of his head. “Send a few to Legion as well. They have spell casters and they’re all Human.

“Actually, are you Human?”

“Yes. I was. Once upon a time. Just a peasant girl,” Johanna said with a grin, then took a bite of her sandwhich.

“Hard to imagine honestly,” Vince muttered and popped the corner of his food into his mouth, clapped his hands together, and stood up while chewing. “You finish up. I just want to go walk around. Not going to do anything.”

Johanna made a noise that sounded like ascent.

Leaving her there Vince started walking.

He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Johanna taking a sip from a canteen. She was watching a group of young Dryads nearby as they played some type of game with a small ball and their feet.

Vince wanted to go see the old tree that’d greeted him when he came here. It’d offered them information as well as his last remaining seed.

An ancient Dryad tree that’d survived their Dryad.

Reaching his destination quickly Vince was rather happy.

Without any of his entourage and none of his guards, no one bothered him. He was just another faceless human wandering about the city.

No sooner than he found his destination than he realized a change had occurred.

What had once been an empty and lost corner of a plaza had been changed.

It’d been turned into what he could only think of as a Dryad’s interpretation of a tomb for a national hero. The tree had been trimmed, cleaned, and been given a great deal of care.

The grass in front of it, where the Dryad had supposedly been buried, had been changed as well.

There was a small post with a bell attached to a metal wire. It led down into the ground and a small plaque sat in the grass.

Additionally, there were several Battle Dryad’s nearby that looked like guards for the area as well.

“Lord,” whispered one of those Dryads as he walked up. “You… you’re here.”

Vince smiled ruefully at the helmeted Dryad.

They weren’t part of his grove but he was sure they were suddenly frantically praying to Dea.

“I mean… I needed to come see how he was doing,” Vince said and gestured at the tree. He carefully stepped around the spot that the dead Dryad likely was.

Walking up to the tree, Vince put his hand to it and then sought out the life that traveled about his grove.

The seed he’d been given from this tree responded quickly. It quivered, let out an odd echoing like call, then went still again.

There was no response from the tree.

It was quiet and still.

Nothing more than a tree.

“It isn’t… it’s not a Dryad tree anymore because-because you took the seed?” asked one of the other Dryads. “He’s silent because he’s hibernating. He’ll wake back up in spring.”

“Yeah. The seed just called out to the tree but there wasn’t a response,” Vince admitted. Then he patted the tree gently. “It’s healthier than the last time I saw it.”

“We take turns nurturing it. Making sure it’ll come back in the spring,” answered the first Dryad. “It’s a very old tree and it’s worth keeping alive. It’s like… a voice from the past.”

“Did you come here to wake up Damiana?” asked the last Dryad. She sounded incredibly young to Vince but he wasn’t sure.

“Damiana?” he replied, looking to the Drayd. Vince gestured to the grave. “Was that her name?”

“Yes. She was… our cities spirit.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible. She wasn’t really a Dryad,” Vince answered honestly. “Apparently she had wings and was more akin to a Sylph. Though… she did have a tree. As well as a seed from it. I mean… I can try.”

Walking over to the grave, Vince got down on his knees with the bell directly in front of himself.

“The duchess ah… reburied her personally. She did everything that you did,” said one of the Dryads.

Closing his eyes, Vince turned his attention inward. He faintly heard what sounded like someone running but tuned out the world around him quickly.

He foccused on his grove, and then the seed that had no tree nor Dryad.

“Dea, are you busy at the moment?” Vince asked aloud.

There was a shuddering from his grove, the dirt that’d come from the valley goddess turned Dryad.

He felt Dea turn her attention to him then.

“What do you think of this… Dryad? They’ve been dead for a time and weren’t part of the following,” Vince explained. “But I hold the last see of their tree in my grove.”

He wanted to say more, but he didn’t want to voice it in front of the Dryads here. Dea was an intelligent woman and didn’t need him to explain his concerns to her.

Chances were she was aware of what he was nervous about and had even more concerns than he did.

If he brought this Dryad back, this Damiana, would it change or shift the religion of Yosemite? Would it be worth while, or detrimental?

Would it even be possible to bring them back?

“Try,” came the quiet response from Dea. The words weren’t heard but spoken in a way he didn’t quite understand. “Hear my prayer, my lord. Try.”

She’s praying to me?

That’s new.

Pushing at the power he held, Vince tried to sink it down into the grave. To Damiana and her resting place.

He found the body quickly and easily.

Leandra had indeed buried Damiana just as he had done for the others. She was surrounded in a way that’d let her breathe and survive if she woke up.

Wooden barricades erected around her chest and head. The rest of her was covered in earth and dirt. The roots of her one time tree were within reach but hadn’t grown out to her.

The body of the Dryad was intact, though withered, and decayed.

Their head wasn’t attached either and was resting where it should go, rather than actually being attached.

Pushing harder at his power he tried to tap into what he’d done previously. To call across the grave to his Dryads.

Speaking beyond the veil of death.

“Damiana, can you hear me?” Vince began. “My name is Vince Campbell. I’m the Lord of Dryads, Dragons, and Elves. I call out to you from the world you were unjustly removed from.

“I would like to know if you would wish to come back to the living. If you’d like to rejoin the Dryads and their goddess Dea.”

A sudden thought popped into his head.

“I call to my priestess of Death, Zathira, to walk the bridge between life and death on my behalf and speak with Damiana,” Vince murmured and then hard directed his attention to the Lamia in question. She should be somewhere off with the goddesses. “Please convey my wish to call out to Damiana of Galicia across the veil of death.

“If she’d like to rejoin the living, I’d welcome her back to her own body. Though I’d ask if she wishes to do such a thing, she waits for me to finish… healing it.

“Please give whatever response comes back to Dea. She’ll let me know.”

“Try,” came the immediate response from Dea. The response was much firmer this time.

Vince put his attention to the body and wished it to be whole. To direct his power to put it back to rights as it should be.

The body would of course respond to his wishes as it was nothing more than inert material. Something that would respond to magic easily and without issue.

It didn’t hurt that he believed that, which helped his faith based power to actually work.

He worked at rebuilding the body. One section at a time he directed his power to bring it back to whatever the normal for this body would have been.

Thankfully he didn’t have to direct it much more than that.

The body and his power took care of the detail work.

Vince just had to provide the source for it all to come from which was himself.

Using his power judiciously and not just unleashing it as a torrent he felt as if he’d only used a quarter of what was available to him when he finished. That the body was whole once again.

Taking in a breath Vince decided to take a break at this point.

Originally he’d planned on just rushing ahead.

Now, he wanted to just take a moment and recollect his thoughts.

While he didn’t quite know how much time had passed, it’d certainly been longer than he’d originally expected.

Long enough that there was an ache in his knees from kneeling atop the grave.

He wanted to reach out to Dea and Zathira for the next steps.

The body would hold for a few minutes while took a moment to move around.

Opening his eyes he realized it’d been longer than he thought.

There were deep shadows across everything and the sun was setting in the west. The world was moving towards it’s curtain call for the day.

A groan escaped his lips as he leaned his head back.

The muscles felt stiff and screamed at him.

Shifting to one side he sat down on the grass, taking the weight off his knees. They felt far more painful than he expected.

How the hell did Elizabeth spend all that time on her knees to fill Johanna’s canteen? Damn.

I’ll need to be nicer to my Dryad’s about this, too.

“My lord… is… is it done?”

Looking to the speaking, Vince saw Leandra not far off. Her mother was there as well.

Vince only now noticed that he was surrounded by a great many Dryads. There wasn’t a single space around him that could have fit another Dryad.

“Done?” Vince asked then coughed. His voice had been rough and dry. He tried again. “Done?”

“Is… Damiana… is she—”

There was a soft chime from the bell next to Vince. Given how light it looked, he imagined that it often would tinkle in the wind.

“I need to—”

The bell rang once, then began to ring repeatedly. Chiming in a way that could only be deliberate.

Johanna swooped in and got Vince up to his feet. She guided him over to one side as Dryads rushed in to the grave.

Seven or eight of them all began using magic immediately.

The grass pulled away at itself and the earth heaved upward.

In a flash, before the sun fully set, they’d somehow dug Damiana free. Tearing off the wooden boxes that’d covered her they then pulled her out of the grave she’d been in for so long.

“I… what?” asked the woman.

She looked to be a womanly, full figured, and beautifully mature Dryad. Almost in line with the same type of feeling that Meliae’s mother, Mila, gave off.

A woman who’d been around for far longer than they looked, but had more than the youthful looks that Dryads had. An attractiveness that wasn’t just limited to their physical appearance.

Damn.

Dryads age wonderfully.

She had long dark black hair, bright brown eyes that seemed larger than normal, a generous mouth, a figure that was most certainly a Dryad’s, though she topped out at a five foot three height at best.

Though she was covered in a good bit of dirt it didn’t take away from her much. Her skin was a pale color with a brownness to it that made her look quite lovely.

Wings similar to Sam’s fluttered out from behind her and hung there in the air.

Then her eyes slowly turned to Vince and she stared at him.

Slowly, the naked and dirt smudged Dryad moved toward him. Her wings spread out further as she stared at him.

Her bright brown eyes gained an intensity in them and shone. Shone just as a Dryad’s eyes would though they were brown, not green.

“Lord of Dryads,” she whispered and got down on her knees in front of him. Her left hand reached out and pressed to his chest.

The response from her seed was instant.

As if a lightning bolt had crackled to life from inside of Vince’s chest it leapt into her hand. There was an instant bond between the seed and the recently returned Damiana.

“Lord of Dryads,” repeated Damiana a sexy and wild smile breaking across her face. “You’ve brought me back to the world, saved my poor tree, and given me a body that had not been mine in centuries.”

“A… mistress Damiana, our Lord has returned you to your body as it should be,” Leandra argued politely.

“Yes, that’s what I mean. I am fully restored. Minus all the hurts and injuries I took over my life,” Damiana explained, never looking away from Vince. He felt like there was an actual heat escaping the woman’s eyes. “And a… goddess. I feel her.”

“Yes, her name is Dea,” offered another Dryad from somewhere in the crowd.

Damiana began to laugh quietly, her head slowly tilting to the side.

She was exhibiting signs of most certainly not being a Dryad, while also being one. It left Vince feeling strange.

“Yes, it’s as you’re likely thinking, Vince Campbel, Lord of Dryads. My lord,” Damiana stated. “I’m not a Dryad. I’m an Arborean. One of the last when I was alive, and likely now, the last, after my death and return.

“What an interesting world to be brought back to. Very interesting.”

Damiana’s eyes had kept growing in brightness to the point that Vince felt like he’d have to look away.

Then she blinked and the lights were gone.

“I have reconnected with my tree… I am whole as if I were fresh from my mother’s womb,” Damiana purred, then leaned away from Vince. “Such an interesting tale to be living in.

“I think… I think I should speak with someone and find out the state of things. Would someone help me? I find myself out of time and out of place in a world I can barely recognize.”

Dryads moved in quickly and began cleaning the Arborean off. Someone put a jacket around her while someone else produced a brush from somewhere and set to her hair.

At the same time, everyone began guiding her over to Leandra and Flora.

“Well, that’s good. I did the work, then can leave it to someone else to handle. I love stuff like that,” Vince remarked while getting to his feet. He brushed at his knees and looked to Johanna.

“Yes, I admit, I enjoy that myself. Like setting a teaching cirriculum but not having to each it,” she suggested with a smile.

“This one also enjoys such outcomes. This one is also unsurprised to see her Husband and Lord causing a stir,” remarked Petra from somewhere behind him.

Guess it’s time to go.

Turning, Vince saw Petra standing there.

She was flanked by Fes Berenga and Yaris.

At the momen ther blonde hair was sticking out in an odd way. As if she’d worn a helmet just moments ago.

Her crystalline-blue eyes were tired and worn and she looked as if she just wanted to go to sleep somewhere.

Fes the greenskinned warrior was surprising at this moment though.

Her long black hair was styled in the current fashion here in Europe. Her dark black eyes were amused.

Her prosethic arm and leg were covered by very flattering civilian clothes that made Berenga look far more like a Human, than an Orc.

She was beautiful and elegant looking.

“See? I told you,” Fes said with a chuckle. “He loves me as his Orc wife but likes when I dress in Human clothes.

“You can smell it on him. Not that I blame him. I do look good like this.”

“Yes, you do,” Yaris agreed, then she sighed. “Are you ready Vince? We’ve got an idea of what to do next but wanted to talk to you what are thoughts are.”