Dryads and their Trees

"What's it like, this tree you talk to?" Edwin asked abruptly. We were standing on the temple mound, overlooking the area I had …cleared… earlier. Wizards were not shamans, but this fact seemed to have escaped the Thayan; I don't know how he did it, but we seemed to be sitting on a rise where there was none before. The very earth around the compound had lifted and the earth were the edges of the forest were, sunk. I had a nasty suspicion that he and Imoen had prepared several 'surprises' in the 'basin's' dip, and the 'upturned bowl's' sides. For the life of me, I could not see or sense anything untoward; whatever they had done, they had hidden it well.

Dusk was fast approaching, the last crimson bands of sunlight fading beneath the tree-line. I could just make out the first stars.

"Its knowledge is… vast." I halted, unsure of how to explain; a deep sadness rose up in me. Ever since the revelation it would only end when there was one of us I had ignored Tree, "It sees things over centuries, not days. It's hard to explain. It… thinks – feels – differently. It talks in pictures, concepts, patterns."

I felt myself growing distant, as if speaking from another time and place, "Seasons it counts as we measure heartbeats; the stones in the forest are the only thing close to it in age. It is infused with the power of the elven gods, an elemental being. It might be older than the gods… it has watched the rise and fall of empires. It was there when Bhaal walked the land… before Bhaal ascended. A petty, malevolent mortal, a thief and a murderer. It has been, it is. It is more than its years, more than its bark. It is so old it does not remember what it was to be a sapling; veiled in the mists of time, we are as raindrops across a mighty ocean stretching further than any eye can see."

"And I?"

"A wounded little bird. A little bird among worms and insects. It likes you."

My eyes seemed to refocus, and I was no longer looking beyond the forest canopy, but through it. "Once all this used to be part of its wood. There were other rivers, little streams, and mountains the size of hills."

The mage seemed to consider this, then straightened his robes, not caring for the image, "And what sort of bird are you?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I'm no bird. (As if I, the great Edwin Odesseiron could ever be a mere bird. Am I some plain sparrow?)"

"A peacock?" Imoen joined in cheerfully, then changed her mind, "Maybe a phoenix?"

"I am no more a phoenix than you are a raven!" He fixed her a haughty stare, then remarked dryly, "Perhaps you are the first male dryad in history."

"Edwin!" Imoen almost socked him in the arm for that, then giggled, "I guess he does look like he lives in a tree."

"Thanks," I answered just as dryly.

"I still love you, little brother, even if you have become a tree lover." Smiling impishly, she threw a protective arm around me, and whispered, "Eddie does look a bit like a peacock, doesn't he?"

"Bah!"

I sighed; she plucked a twig out of my hair that had not been there before her hand removed it. After half a moment, I grunted as her finger found my side. "Fine," I growled, rising to it; I understood her look well: 'don't be such a grouch', it said, "If I'm a dryad, you're a nymph!"

She gasped my name; Edwin snickered. "That – that's not very nice!"

"You even moan like one!"

"And what would you know about a nymph moaning?" She asked archly, sniffing in perfect imitation of Nalia.

"And you tell me not to be a prude?" I ignored her question.

A wicked light entered her eyes, and she giggled, "Well, you are too young…" Patting my shoulder, she leaned in and whispered, "you'll learn one day, and then you'll moan. If she's good enough." She winked at Edwin, who muttered something and shuffled; despite his grumbling, it didn't stop his broad grin, which only made his grumbling worse. "Ain't that right, Eddie?"

"(Women! Insufferable beings, I tell you. Can't leave a man to his privacy; no, she has to spread it to the whole world.)"

"Uh…" I really didn't want to hear it any more than Edwin wanted to discuss it.

"Prudes!" She shoved my shoulder, and stuck her tongue out at Edwin, "That isn't what you told me last night."

I made a face; it only made her laugh harder. Then catching Edwin's hand and yanking him closer, she draped her arms over both of us, and promptly kissed my cheek and his mouth. We both expressed a long suffering sigh.

Nearby, the wyvern gurgled, half demanding, half asking Imoen to feed it. When she had taken to giving it meals, I wasn't sure, but now it would only eat out of her hand or with her approval. I got the distinct impression that this was 'practice' for children; she certainly seemed to be covertly weighing how well Edwin did without her say so. (It was easier to think about this than about the rest of the conversations implications; as much as I loved her, there were some things I did not want to know…)

"I could call a nymph for you, if you wanted, brother." Imoen added innocently, "Would you like one?"

"NO!" Both Edwin and I answered, stared at each other, and nodded firmly.

"Fiiiii-iiine. Your loss." Leaning in again, she breathed, "You don't know what you're missing. Tell him, Eddie." She winked.

"Imoen!"

"Bah! Go play with your wyvern, woman!"

She giggled; I sighed. This was the price of trying to push her away; all she did was come back stronger. "So I'll go call that nymph then. Maybe we could get you a new harem."

I glared at her.

"Y'could, I dunno, distract our brothers with them. Dancing nymphs, along the wall." She peered at it, "well, what's left anyway."

"No! And don't even think of pranking me!" The joke was old now, but I didn't trust her at all. She might just decide that it was perfect for holding our foes' attention. "Besides," I countered, "having children weakens us; it spreads our sire's essence. I don't even know if we can."

"You know this? How?" Edwin demanded as Imoen shot him a sharp, concerned look.

"I just… do."

Imoen paled.

That night, I heard Imoen quietly sobbing into Edwin's arms; I wasn't sure what was wrong, but I could guess... I could feel his voiceless anger levelled in my direction; his protectiveness bristled. His annoyance was at me, but his anger was directed at Bhaal. I know that they had spoken for over two hours, and Imoen only picked at her food. I had rarely seen my sister so withdrawn, and I blamed myself for not keeping my mouth shut. Those few, ill chosen words had devastated her.

She would be the last, and the rest of my brothers would come first.

I made up my mind to slip away; our first plan was right: I would assassinate the warlords. I would begin by turning their armies against them. I would use the sirines' song to dominate their feeble minds; Irenicus had taught me much. I knew exactly how much a mortal could bear, how much pressure to put on them… I would break their collective will. I would set one army against another, and crush the mind of their generals. Their murder would come from the hand of their most trusted henchmen.

I would ingest the poison, and give myself to the Skull.