unscrewed the cap off of his waterskin and gulped a mouthful.
“Noooo!” the dryad cried out before she could stop herself.
He looked up and slowly screwed the cap back on. “What, are you thirsty, too? Well, you won’t get any of this until you tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.” His stare pierced her with its coldness.
The dryad readjusted her position, sitting cross-legged. Her head reeled a bit. It won’t do to faint right now, she told herself crossly. She smiled slightly and said, “I’m the guardian of this area.” She gestured to the desiccated trees that surrounded her. Only her own oak tree still stood completely upright. The rest were leaning or had been broken in the dragon’s fall. “I live here.”
The man looked around as much as he was able to. “Not much of a place to live,” he stated, dearly unimpressed.
The dryad kept an enticing smile on her face, but inwardly she cringed at the offense. “It used to be a forest with many glades and brooks, but some unnatural drought has caused it to die.”
The man’s expression didn’t change. “Well, then. I’m not going to tell you what a fool you are for staying here, but. . oh, look. I just did,” he added sardonically. “But I do need your help to get out from under Bolt.”
A look of sadness crossed his face. “I’ll give you some water for your help.”
The dryad allowed herself to look as if she were considering the offer. In the past, her gentle, playful words and smile were enough to charm humans into doing what she wanted them to do. That didn’t seem to be working now, though. Briefly she looked down at her seared skin and realized that she probably didn’t look half as nice as she used to. The lack of moisture showed in her prominent bones and dry skin. Even her hair seemed parched. Another wave of weakness and despair rolled over her, not allowing her to think clearly. Soon, she realized, I won’t be able to move at all.
“Well?” the human asked archly. He tried to shift position to look at her more comfortably, but the pain must have been too intense, for he grimaced and closed his eyes.
“May I have that drink you promised me?” she finally asked. “I answered your questions.”
Her response garnered no reaction from the man. He must have passed out from the pain, she thought. “Human? Wake up,” she called out in a rough voice.
No response. She reached out as far as she could and was able to pat the dirt near his head. “Wake up.” Nothing. Gently she kneaded the root under her hand and sought contact with her tree. “What if he doesn’t wake up?” she murmured. “I will have lost my chance to keep you alive.” She bowed her head in concentration, trying to reach out to her tree’s consciousness. She felt a vague presence, but it was too sapped of energy. “Everything around me dies,” she whispered brokenly. She would have wept, if she had any tears left.
Another grunt of pain brought her attention to the human. “Wake up,” she encouraged him.
The man pushed himself up a little on his right arm. “Get me out from under this,” he demanded harshly. His expression was pained and hostile at the same time.
The dryad shook her head. “You told me that you’d give me a drink of water if I answered your questions.”
He simply stared at her for a moment, then nodded.
“Very well.” He settled himself down and unscrewed the waterskin. He poured some of the water into the cap and reached back with his left arm, careful to hold the full waterskin upright with his right hand so as not to spill it.
“That’s it?” the dryad asked. She had hoped that he would pass back the whole waterskin.
“Take it.”
The man’s tone of voice allowed for no argument, so she reached out for the cap. Instead of drinking it, though, she carefully spilled it over the exposed root under her hand. The man’s expression grew incredulous. “What are you doing?” he asked.
She waited until every last bit of water had dripped from the lid before handing it back to him. “I must protect my tree,” she answered. She looked up pleadingly. “Please, give me the waterskin so that my tree may live.”
The man shifted to close the waterskin. “Why should I do that? Your tree is dead. I’m not. You’re not. If you help me get out from under my dragon, I’ll give you more than a sip of this water. You must help me start back to my rendezvous point. I’m sure that my fellow Knights will be looking for me along that path soon.”
The dryad looked down at the root, noticing that the water had already soaked through. She didn’t feel any stronger, so it must not have been enough. “I can’t help you,” she declared softly.
The Knight pushed himself up and looked at her angrily. “Why? Do you so oppose the goals of the Knights of Takhisis that you won’t help me out from under a dead mount?” he asked. “You mourn for the lost life of this forest, but you won’t help someone not of the forest maintain his hold on life?”
“I simply can’t help you, human,” she said sadly. “I am not what you think I am.”
He frowned and said, “Well, you look like an elf, except for the dark skin. I don’t recall ever seeing a wild elf with skin that dark and without any tattoos. What are you if you’re not an elf?”
“I am a dryad. I was born of that tree back there,” she stated simply. Another hot breeze stirred the hair around her face.
“And how does that prevent you from helping me? Or taking from me this waterskin that you so desire?” he asked.
“Normally, I cannot leave the area around my tree without dying slowly. Because of the state of my parent tree, I have found my boundaries to be even harsher and more limited,” she told him. If I had more strength, she reflected, I could stand over him and threaten him to get that waterskin. Now I have to use truth to get what I need, she thought.
“So that is as far as you can go,” he deduced.
She nodded. His contorted position must be causing him great pain, and his armor must be very hot, for he was sweating profusely now, she noticed. “When you first fell, I tried to come nearer, but I didn’t have the strength to approach any closer than this spot.”
The Dark Knight nodded slowly. “Then I guess I shouldn’t waste my strength talking to you, since you aren’t of any help to me. I will just stay here and wait for the others in my talon to find me.” He unscrewed the cap of the waterskin and took another sip of water. He looked sadly at the dragon that pinioned his legs. He seemed as greatly sorrowed by the creature’s death as he was frustrated by his own predicament.
“Are your friends within a day’s flight from here?” Judging by the wounds that the Knight evidenced, he might not live through the night. She knew that her tree wouldn’t.
“Why should it matter to you?” the Dark Knight returned as he screwed the cap back onto the waterskin.
“Your wounds are bad enough that I don’t think they’ll get to you soon enough,” the dryad explained.
With his left arm the Knight gestured at his legs. “My legs are crushed, not bleeding.”
“But already you roast under this sun. You’ve several more hours to go before the sun begins its descent,” the dryad noted.
“And I’ve enough water to get me through this,” the Knight said through clenched teeth. “Now enough of your incessant patter. Leave me be.”
“I can’t. My tree is dying. I desperately need the little water you have to restore it to health,” she argued.
The Knight settled onto his back. “Surely you don’t think that this bag of water will bring your dead tree back to life? Besides, I need the water more. I must survive until my talon finds me,” he replied harshly.
The dryad rested her throbbing forehead on her cradled palms. The heat was getting stronger. If she could just get the Knight to give over the waterskin, everything would be fine again. Her tree would live and she could recuperate in its shade. “The water will heal my tree,” she said defiantly. “You’re the one who is as good as dead. This talon of yours won’t ever find you amidst the ruin of this place.”
“Enough, dryad. I must rest, and your words will do me no good in that regard,” the Knight declared, sounding tired and angry at the same time.
The dryad raised her head. “From what little I know of humans, I’d think it would be rather stupid of you to sleep after the injuries you have suffered-hitting your head.”
“Really? And what makes you think that?”
She almost laughed at how he kept answering her even though he told her to stay silent. “Many seasons ago, when there were still three moons in the sky, a human dressed a little differently than you passed through my
