The Duke and the Dryad (Elemental Series)
Read The Duke and the Dryad (Elemental Series) Online
Authors: Elizabeth Rose
The Duke and the Dryad
By
Elizabeth Rose
Copyright © 2013 by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual organizations or persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without the author’s written permission.
Cover by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik
Cov
er image provided by Shutterstock.
Dedicated to a wonderful friend and author, Elysa Hendricks.
:
The Caretaker of Showman’s Hill
✛
Luring Levi
(Coming Soon)
☀
The Dragon and the Dreamwalker
☀
The Duke and The Dryad
☀
The Sword and the Sylph
(July 2013)
☀
The Sailor and the Siren
(Aug 2013)
♔
(Legacy of the Blade Series)
✛
(Tarnished Saints Series)
✭
(Greek Myth Fantasy Series)
☀
(Elemental Series)
Elizabeth’s Website
(Elizabethrosenovels.com)
Chapter 1
Duke Odwolfe of Manterra was not a patient man. And once again, his prized white bull was missing.
“Sir Braden,” he bellowed
to his captain of the guard. The knight was residing up in the watchtower this time of the evening. “Sir Braden, I request your presence in the cattle barn, anon.”
Wolf
e
, as the duke preferred to be called, hated his Christian name and hadn’t been happy with his parents for saddling him with this oddity. And though he may be a wolf at times – there was surely nothing odd about him.
Still,
the amount of pent-up anger for his parents no longer mattered, as his mother was long dead as well as his father. ’Twas over two decades now that they’d been buried beneath the earth, but he still couldn’t get the horrific event out of his mind. A heaviness weighed on his shoulders since that awful night, as he felt he was solely responsible for their demise.
Wolf
e had been raised by his ruthless uncle, Lord Clive, after that. At only the age of eight years, he’d been trained as a hardened warrior - in the same image of the man. And tho his uncle eventually landed the title of earl after marrying the king’s daughter, Wolfe had been a favorite of the land’s mighty ruler and been graced with the title of duke, to his uncle’s dismay. ’Twas a title Wolfe despised, and wanted not, as he knew in his heart he didn’t truly deserve it.
He would much rather hire out his sword and travel the lands.
After all, he was known to many as
Duke the Destroyer
for his ruthless ways of war and devastation. He paced back and forth in front of the empty stall just outside the barn, wondering what was taking Sir Braden so long to descend the battlements.
“Your Grace?” Sir Braden ran to his side
, breathing heavily as ’twas a good climb down from the watchtower to the inner bailey. The man was a wonderful warrior and a few years younger than Wolfe’s age of three decades. The women flocked to him for his handsome looks, and Wolfe supposed they liked the man’s long, dark hair and bright blue eyes.
“Do you notice a
nything amiss?” he asked his knight.
Sir Braden’s hand went to the hilt of hi
s sword as he surveyed the courtyard. Though ’twas night and darkness surrounded them, several rush-lit torches stuck into the side of the stone castle wall sent a glow across the open space.
“Sir?” he asked, no idea
as to what Wolfe referred.
“Is anything missing?” he asked, splaying his arm in an outward gesture towards the empty
holding.
“The prized bull! ’Tis gone,” he shouted.
“Exactly.”
“But – how could this be?”
“You tell me.” Actually, Wolfe knew exactly what had happened. ’Twas the same thing that always happened this time of year. Or almost happened, as he’d always managed to stop it before the damage was done.
“What day is it?” Wolf
e ground out.
“I do believe
’tis Monday.”
“Nay!” h
e answered. “What I mean is . . . it is the solstice is it not?”
“Aye, I do believe so, Duke.”
“Sir Braden, please, I have asked you time and again to refer to me as Lord Wolfe. I truly despise any other of the names or titles.”
“Of course, Lord Wolf
e, my apologies.”
“That’s better. N
ow, tell me, is this not the night of Midsummer Eve?”
“I
believe so, my lord.” The realization hit him, and his eyes opened wide. “’Tis the solstice! Oh, we all forgot, I am so sorry, my lord. But since you don’t believe in letting anyone in the castle celebrate with a festival, we’ve nearly dismissed it from our minds.”
“
’Tis a pagan festival, and I will not hear of it. And your apologies won’t bring back my bull. Those damned druids stole it again, intending to use it as a sacrifice in one of their heathen ceremonies. After all, ’tis the fourth night of a full moon. Their festival tonight ’twill be huge, I assure you.”
“You know much of the
ir pagan worship for hating it so much, if I may say so, my lord.”
“I make it my business to know what my enemies are doing. That’s the mark of a successful warrior, now never forget it.”
“Of course not.”
Wolf
e’s mother had been training with the druids in secret, but no one needed to know that. And since ’twas the cause of her death, he would rather not speak of it to anyone.
“
Now, do tell me, Sir Braden, how a group of pagan worshippers all dressed in white, nonetheless, saunter into a well guarded castle in the middle of the night and steal away a huge bull without anyone noticing?”
Sir Braden’s hand went to his chin in thought as he surveyed the barn, chicken coop and mews at the back
of the bailey. His eyes finally settled on the far wall.
“They must have used the postern gate, my lord.”
“Postern gate?” he asked, not amused. “That is not even large enough to fit a horse through, let alone a side of beef. Now how do you propose that to be true?”
“The d
ruids are said to hold the powers of the ancient magick, so anything is possible. They supposedly have the gifts of prophecy and shapeshifting among others.”
“I assure you I believe those pagans are more bloodthirsty than myself, but I would not condone the notion of
magick nor powers of any sort. That is just ridiculous.”
“But there has been proof
, my lord, of strange happenings beyond explanation.”
“The only thing beyond explanation
is why you’re still standing here spouting nonsense when the bewitching hour is almost upon us. That is when they’ll slaughter my bull. And I am not inclined to stand here talking another minute. Now ready the men and let’s set out, anon.”
“In the dark, my lord?”
“Sir Braden, another question like that and you’d better start shapeshifting yourself to get out of my sight before –”
“I’ll ready the men at once
, Lord Wolfe. I’ll also bring the torches to enable us to see through the forest at night. We will be ready momentarily.”
“Good,” said Wolf
e heading for the stables and his own horse. “Because I would hate to think what’s going to happen if I find they’ve slaughtered the bull before we arrive.”
* * *
Rae-Nyst stood at the foot of the ancient oak, in the forests of Manterra. Her eyes stayed fastened to the druid up high in the branches, raising his golden sickle to the moon. Then after words of thanks to the spirits of the forest, he cut the mistletoe that clung to the bark. The vine had roots growing into the base of the tree and all the way up it as well. Its soul was the soul of the oak. And the soul of every oak tree in the forest was her soul as well.
A second
druid standing beneath the tree caught the mistletoe in a pure white cloth without touching it. Mistletoe was sacred to the druids, as well as to herself.
“We will proceed to the circle of sta
nding stones,” said Humphrey, the high priest and also chief druid standing next to her. “The white bull awaits us for sacrifice. You, Rae-Nyst, as part of your initiation, will strike the killing blow.” He handed her an oversized axe.
Rae-Nyst was not a druid, but a
dryad
. She felt a connection to every tree and plant in the forest and a connection to the animals too. Faerie blood ran through her veins, giving her the power to command the flora and fauna. But human blood was mixed within her as well, causing conflict and muting her true essence.
The small
group of druids dressed in white robes headed for the clearing. Their destination was a henge of large standing stones four times the height of a man, and spaced evenly in a circle. Inside the henge, was yet another smaller ring of standing stones half the height. They were all topped by horizontal stones laid cross-wise, covering two or three of the standing stones at a time. Inside the center circle was a large flat rock used for sacrifices.
Rae
-Nyst followed quickly behind them, not saying a word. The axe in her hand felt heavy and burdensome, and very foreign. While she wanted to be a part of the Druid religion and no longer a loner and by herself, she also felt sick to her stomach at the same time at what they were asking her to do.
She
had a connection to all animals and could already feel the fear of the bull as they entered the stone ring.
The animal lay helpless, tied down by many ropes and held still by nearly a
dozen druid men. They’d given the animal a dose of hemlock to help relax it and insure it wouldn’t put up a fight. The breeze blew through her hair and she could hear the voices of the forest in her head. Nature called out to her, begging her not to do it.
