The Dryads Lure

Acknowledgement: This story is written in collaboration with, and based on an idea by, GH (who otherwise wishes to remain anonymous).

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Chapter 1: The Briarwood

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Only the foolish or the desperate should venture into the upper reaches of the Briarwood valley. At least, that's what the villagers of Thingley Bottom, two miles down river, will tell anyone willing to buy them a drink in the tavern. For centuries there have been lurid tales of strange happenings in the Briarwood; wild orgies; ritual virgin sacrifices; and numerous disappearances. Those tales have been embellished by generations of storytellers to the point where truth and fiction merge. Some of those who disappeared were people of importance. However, since the world continued onward without them, it seems that they weren't as important as people previously believed.

Are the upper reaches of the Briarwood valley home to orgies and sacrifices, and the like? The short answer is 'yes'. The upper valley contains the last remnants of an ancient forest that once stretched for dozens of miles in every direction. The valley is surrounded by steep rugged hills that effectively prevent access, other than by following the river upstream. There's no road, and the river path is little more than a game trail. Few people make the difficult journey, which requires clambering around a waterfall and wading across a swamp.

The river flowing along the length of the valley is the cause of the valley's weirdness. The source of the river comes from underground springs deep in the bowels of the earth. The springs rise through layers of different minerals that give the water unusual properties. Eventually those springs join and form a river that emerges through a small cave at the head of the valley. From there the river spreads its mineral bounty for nearly a mile along the valley before the minerals start to lose their effectiveness. The river's properties in the upper Briarwood valley attract creatures that humans claim to be nothing but myth.... but secretly believe in their existence. In the storytellers' tales, popular culprits for the strange happenings are elves, goblins and trolls. According to legend, those creatures are prone to violence, a trait that fits nicely with stories featuring orgies, kidnapping and sacrifices. None of the storytellers suggest that the Fae folk responsible for all the legends are peace loving dryads. Consequently, the stories told are fanciful with only a smattering of truth.

So let me help you filter the truth from the plentiful fiction. Any virile man who goes near Moonstone Rock at full moon may soon find his cock put to good use. But only if his cock is of the appropriate length and girth. Dryads may be peaceful, but they are very picky when it comes to sex. As for females, should a fertile woman wander near the ancient gnarled oak tree in misty weather, she will invariably discover something she wasn't expecting. As for sacrifices, then no human... virgin or otherwise... has ever lost their life to an encounter with the forest folk. Far from it. Those who enter into this mysterious realm often discover that there are benefits in devoting their life to the spirits of the forest.

How do I know all this? I, and my predecessors, have ruled over our small Briarwood enclave for nearly four hundred years. For a thousand years before that the upper valley remained untouched other than by the occasional village peasant collecting firewood. Briarwood's remoteness and dense undergrowth deterred would be invaders. Wherever a person wants to travel, there is always an easier route that avoids travelling through the Briarwood. So why do people go there at all? For some it is an act of desperation, seeking shelter from their enemies. For others it's to prove their contempt for the rumours and wild tales, or to accomplish some holy quest to exorcise the valley of its imagined evil. And then there are those who secretly hope to join in those wild orgies, or participate in virgin sacrifices (but not as the victim, though).

In the 1640s, during the English Civil War, the surrounding region had the misfortune to be hotly contested between Royalists and Parliamentarians. Locals with any sense abandoned their homes and fled. Some of them found their way into the upper Briarwood valley. My forebears were among those fleeing for their lives. They stumbled across a majestic gnarled oak tree one misty morning. For the dozen women in their group it was a life changing event. Hungry and thirsty, they gathered nuts, and drank from the river, unaware of the strange properties of the water, and its influence on everything that grew nearby. My forebears were the first to be taken by the forest spirit. However, it was wartime and nobody was keeping records of who went where. Their disappearance went unnoticed other than by the men of their group, who soon discovered that they had problems of their own.

A few of the men continued to search the forest for the women. Most however fled back to their village only to be recruited as foot soldiers for one side or the other. The life expectancy of foot soldiers in that war was abysmal. The enemy's cannon took great delight in decimating their ranks. With no medical care, even minor injuries could prove fatal. If any who witnessed the disappearance of the women survived the war, then none ever spoke of what had occurred in the forest.

Since my forebears disappearance went unrecorded, storytellers attribute the first verified disappearance in the upper valley to a certain Prince Walter. Hotly pursued by his traitorous brother, Walter fled into the valley on the night of a full moon. Exhausted, he hid among a rocky outcrop that subsequently became known as Moonstone Rock. Walter was never seen again, but rumours of a strange hermit living in the area persisted for many years.

Storytellers say the first woman to disappear in the Briarwood was a starving peasant girl called Hazel, who was fleeing a cruel lord. Hazel's disappearance was never independently verified, although her feudal lord was angry when he reported the loss of one of his serfs. The tale of a young pretty serf fleeing from her lustful lord, and meeting a horrific fate in the forest, is one which appeals to storytellers. The truth of the story matters little to those seeking to entertain and titillate their audience.

But why does the ancient spirit of the forest bother with transforming young women into dryads? And why have human men breed with them? To understand that fully, you need to understand multi-dimensional quantum biology. In my experience, nobody understands that, so I won't try to explain it. Suffice to say that the essence we call 'the spirit of the forest' is a sentient presence... an elemental, if you like... that originates from another time and place. The peculiar mix of minerals present in the water and ground of the upper Briarwood valley, draw the spirit like a moth to a flame. However, to survive in our world, the spirit must find a living host to inhabit. Once merged with its host, the spirit cannot reverse the process, nor transfer to another host, so it can only survive as long as its host remains alive. Consequently, the spirit must choose a long living host, such as an oak tree. From then on, the spirit lives a passive existence unless its host is threatened in some way.

Rightly or wrongly, the spirit interpreted the destruction of the neighbouring lands during the English Civil War as an existential threat to the oak tree it inhabited. Unable to take direct action against invaders, the spirit recruited and transformed those capable of defending the spirit's host. Fortunately this was a relatively easy process, since the spirit leaked some of its essence into the nearby water and ground each time it absorbed some of the local minerals. Any female human consuming nuts, and drinking water, within range of the oak tree ingests enough of the spirit's essence to trigger a transformation. That's particularly so if some of the essence has been absorbed by a mist.

The result has been a growing commune of dryads, all mentally linked to the spirit of the oak tree. That link allows the dryad to perform some limited forms of 'magic', such as enabling the dryad to temporarily merge with a living tree or shrub, thereby becoming invisible to the human eye and safe from any who wish her harm. Unlike the forest spirit, however, dryads are not bound to a single host, although they cannot change host without first transforming themselves into human form. As a dryad will only age while in human form, their life span can stretch for centuries. The young peasant girl, Hazel, has outlived her lustful feudal lord by several centuries.

Even in their dryad form, the women have normal sexual urges. Their increased life span as a dryad only exacerbates the need for a man's cock at regular intervals. Reverting to human form and venturing into nearby villages and towns for sex is fraught with problems. A dryad can only maintain a mental link to the forest spirit for a finite distance, well short of the nearest village of Thingley Bottom. Once out of range, the dryad loses the ability to perform magic, and she becomes vulnerable to those around her. Sometimes that is a necessary risk in order to protect the ancient oak tree. However, few dryads are brave enough to venture out of range of the forest spirit. Hazel is one of the few who regularly visit the local villages, although rarely for sex. Consequently, it is necessary to lure men into the forest for the purpose of mating.

Fortunately, most men's readiness to fuck anyone wearing a skirt means that there's no shortage of volunteers to assemble at Moonstone Rock during a full moon. Tales of orgies at Moonstone Rock are tempered by rumours that some who venture there never return. Such rumours are false. Nobody is able to witness the orgies... you either participate or you see nothing. The dryads entomb those males participating in a time warp, only releasing them when the dryads' lust is slaked. Every full moon, those who please the dryads can return to be treated to hours of sexual abandon. However, only a few men have the stamina to service the needs of the dryads for any length of time. Those who tire are discharged as soon as their cocks are no longer able to satisfy the dryads' high expectations. The dryads can be merciless in their demands, and more than one man has died from the exertion. Prince Walter expired a mere decade after he discovered the secret of Moonstone Rock.

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Chapter 2: American visitors

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Which brings our story to the present day. Although long lived, dryads don't live forever. Regardless of whether the dryad is transformed from a human, or is born as a consequence of the Moonstone Rock orgies, there is always a need for more dryads to protect the forest from the encroaching world. Foresters, developers, pollution and climate change all eat away at the verdant life of the Briarwood. The dryads are committed to doing everything they can to stem the slow destruction of their homeland. New recruits for the commune of dryads are always needed, which is why regular visits to the world of humans are necessary.

Despite having lived for nearly four centuries, Hazel is still fit enough to visit Thingley Bottom from time to time. Since dryads only physically age when in human form, Hazel has the appearance of a fifty year old woman. Her knowledge of local history often astounds the patrons of the tavern, who invariably buy her a drink to listen to her recall some interesting facts about a long forgotten person or event. Nobody suspects her of having any connection the weird happenings in the Briarwood.

"... the gnomes of Briarwood fuck any who dare to cross their borders," slurs the slightly inebriated storyteller to an even more inebriated audience.

"There are no gnomes in Briarwood," laughs Hazel, unable to resist interrupting the storyteller.

"And how do you know, woman?" replies the storyteller. "One look at you is enough to kill the ardour of any gnome and send him into hiding."

"It's very difficult to do anything to a creature that doesn't exist," replies Hazel, ignoring the storyteller's rudeness.

"Well, I've seen them with my own eyes," continues the storyteller, undeterred by Hazel's interruption. "Gnomes, elves and fairies all inhabit the upper valley. They seduce any who venture there and turn them into mindless slaves for their unholy pleasure."

"Then how did you escape, Gordy?" asks one of the storyteller's audience.

"I'm a man on a mission from God," replies Gordy. "For a few coins I can sell you a copy of this scroll. It contains the words spoken by Saint Julius to dispel all creatures of the netherworld who encroach on the world of man. Reciting these words will protect you from the influence of their evil."

Hazel has met charlatans like Gordy before. She begrudgingly admits that Gordy is more convincing in his fervour than most of his kind. The scroll of Saint Julius has reappeared from time to time over the last two hundred years. Hazel actually knows the scroll's origins and would happily tell anyone who asks. The author was a seven year old girl called Julia, who wrote the ditty to ward off her overbearing governess. It works as well now as it did then... in other words, not at all.

"Hi. I'm Lily. Are you Hazel? The barkeep says you know a lot about local history," says a young American woman as she approaches Hazel.

Hazel studies the young woman before replying. Lily looks about 23 years of age with pale skin, blue eyes, brown hair, and tiny freckles on her face. She has an hourglass figure with modest round breasts. She is attracting the eye of every male in the room... at least those sober enough to notice the pretty angel in their midst.

"Hmmm, I am and I do," replies Hazel while she continues to give Lily a critical appraisal.

"My boyfriend and I are wondering about the weird tales we keep hearing about the Briarwood forest," continues Lily. "Surely nobody believes in such stories?"

"What part of the stories don't you find believable?" asks Hazel.

"Wild orgies in the forest and naked elves dancing around a huge oak tree," laughs Lily's boyfriend, who has joined them.

"Well you can always go to Moonstone Rock during a full moon and find out for yourself," replies Hazel. "As for elves dancing naked around an old oak tree, then that is a fanciful adaptation of a legend that has existed around here for the best part of four hundred years."

"So what does the original legend say?" asks Lily.

"That the beings are dryads, not elves, and that they are clothed in garments provided by nature itself," replies Hazel.

"Yeah, right," says Lily's boyfriend. "Like that's more believable! How come nobody has photographed these events?"

"Because only true friends of the dryads are capable of seeing them," replies Hazel.

"Come on Lily, we've heard enough of this nonsense," says Lily's boyfriend.

"Don't be rude, Cedar," chides Lily. "I asked a question and Hazel was kind enough to answer. She hasn't asked you to believe anything."

Lily is reluctant to leave Hazel's side, but Cedar is pulling her back to the booth where they were sitting, flirting with each other. Hazel watches the pair as they walk away. With hundreds of years of experience at searching for new recruits for their commune, Hazel has learned how to assess the suitability of those she meets. Lily has a personality that Hazel would describe as mellow, down-to-earth, fun-loving, and confident. Cedar, on the other hand is an enigma. Hazel is unsure whether Cedar is his real name or a nickname. He looks to be the same age as Lily, with dirty blonde hair, green eyes, and a slender body. As for his personality, then Hazel will need to study him longer.

Although Hazel identifies Lily as potential recruit for the dryad commune, she knows better than to rush the process. Only those without close family and friends are ever admitted into the commune, and neither Cedar nor Lily has spoken about their background. Their accents label them as tourists, in which case they are well away from the usual tourist routes. Thingley Bottom barely registers on the map, and certainly not in any tourist brochure or guide.

Hazel turns her focus away from the storyteller, who is still droning on about pagan rites and other such nonsense. Even his audience has thinned as more ale holds a greater appeal than listening to the man's drivel. Instead Hazel studies Lily and Cedar from across the room.

Lily seems fascinated in the paintings lining the walls of the tavern, while Cedar seems more interested in hauling Lily off to bed so that he can jump her. Hazel understands the motives of both of them. Lily is certainly the attractive sort of woman any young man would like to plough. As for the paintings, then Hazel knows quite a bit about those. The artist was a local man who fancied himself as a great painter. He was very talented, but unfortunately for him, his art was only appreciated after he died. The tavern owner at the time rescued a number of the paintings as they were about to be burnt. It wasn't as though the tavern owner was a great admirer of the arts, more that he needed something to cover the badly marked paintwork on his tavern walls. It was a fortuitous decision, as these paintings are the only depiction of scenes from the original Briarwood legends.

"That's the old oak tree of the Briarwood legend," says Hazel from across the room when she sees Lily study one of the paintings. "The painting over there is of Moonstone Rock."

"Looks like some old boring old tree," grumbles Cedar, still trying to drag Lily off to bed.

"What about the people dancing around the tree?" asks Lily.

"What dancers?" asks Cedar, looking closer at the picture. "Those are bushes surrounding the big tree."

Hazel smiles to herself. Lily will certainly be an ideal addition to the commune. Only those suitable to become a dryad can see the dancers in the painting.

The challenge facing Hazel is how to get Lily away from the adoring presence of Cedar. He has drunk plenty of ale, but not enough to render him senseless. His desire to fuck Lily... and soon... is practically written on his face. Hazel notes that Lily seems just as keen for his cock, but she's less blatant about it. It's still early evening, so the drinking and partying in the tavern will be going on for hours.

Hazel walks over to the couple as Lily studies another of the paintings. It's a pretty scene of the river, but there's nothing magical about it.

"That's one of the artist's early works, before he discovered his hidden talent," says Hazel to the couple.

"Hmmm... I'd still like to see it in real life," muses Lily. "Is it far from here?"

"A couple of miles up river," replies Hazel. "It's not far from the old oak tree. I could take you there tomorrow, if you like."

"Lily... we said we were going to visit Thingley Castle tomorrow," says Cedar.

"We can go another day," replies Lily. "It's not as if we don't have all the time in the world on our hands. My uncle couldn't care less what I do, and your family has encouraged you to explore the world for a year."

"Yeah... but a boring old forest isn't exactly what I had in mind," whines Cedar.

"And you think a ruined old castle is more exciting?" queries Lily.

"At least it has a proper history, not some fanciful old myths," says Cedar.

"Forest tomorrow... castle the next day," says Lily with determination. "Or do you prefer we each go where we want on our own tomorrow?"

Hazel can see this is going to be a battle of wills, and wisely she keeps out of the debate. She suspects that this is the sort of argument best sorted out in the bedroom. Given the pair of them are eager to jump each other, it only needs a small prod to put Hazel's plan into action.