This story is dedicated to Laurissa and Bastet, two of the best writers in any fandom, and two wonderful friends. Thank you both for all your unstinting encouragement - you'll never know how much it means! You both inspire me and urge me on to greater efforts all the time. Thank you!
PART ONE
MANY YEARS BEFORE:
It was the same nightmare.
Once again she was back in the killing ground. Unable to free herself from the grip of the horror, she was forced to watch yet again as the fearful events unfolded before her eyes.
She watched as Hera's fury sent fiery missiles to strike with cataclysmic force again and again at the surrounding forest and all its precious contents; the beautiful wild oaks and juniper trees, the spruces and elms, the silver ashes and holly exploded in flames. The wildly hungry tongues of flames sought eagerly for more fuel as they leaped from one suffering tree and bush to another. The mighty giants of the Green World groaned in their death agonies, heard and felt only by those who were their guardians, but who could do nothing to stop the horror, even as they too were felled.
Amidst the smoke-filled glade her wraith-like sisters and the young men of their retinues were fleeing the death being dealt out by Hera's minions. But they were falling one by one; their death screams assailing her from every direction. Two men made for her, but she eluded them, twisting away from their violent, clawing hands and dashing into the smoke.
Fleet of foot she ran, her long blonde hair flying out behind her in disarray, even under the crown of oak leaves entwined through it, sometimes having to leap over already-fallen bodies, sometimes tripping over bodies that emerged too late out of the now thick smoke. Doggedly she kept going. The form of Arsinnope, to whom she had always been close, emerged from the smoke. Her pale, slender form had been impaled on the very oak to which she was bound, and now Arsinnope stared, sightless in death, as her tree became her funeral pyre. Her sister screamed at the sight, but then a renewed sense of urgency snapped her back to her surroundings and she was running again, her long legs heading with speed and unerring accuracy towards her mother, and the heart of the Northern Dryad Realm.
Then she came through a thick mass of smoke and she was in the centre of the glade, quite near the Great Oak. She saw her mother, Melinnope, the Queen of the Dryads. The beautiful blonde dryad was being forcibly held by two of Hera's thugs, while a third had his sword raised to deliver the killing blow. The Power! Use the Power! Willed the young dryad even as the sword flashed down. But it was too late. It had been too late ever since Hera's forces had descended without warning on the Green World. There had been no time. No time for preparation; no time for resistance; no time for goodbyes…
As the sword struck her mother, the fourteen year old half-mortal dryad princess screamed in unbearable horror and pain. Almost in slow-motion, she was aware of her mother's blood-covered and lifeless body falling to the ground, while Hera's minions now turned their attention to her.
One of them recognised her. His face set itself into an ugly, determined mask of bloodlust.
"Take her! She's next on the dryad throne! If she lives, you all die! Hera wants her dead, just like the rest of her race, and her miserable father! There's to be no more dryads in Melinnope's realm!"
The tall slender girl's eyes widened in horror at the knowledge of the death of not just her mother, but her human father, and the apparent genocide of her race at Hera's hands. Even then, the death throes of the Forest was also beginning to be felt in her blood and heart. She could feel the agony of the trees as they were immolated; their pain was consuming her, tearing at her, burning her. It was unimaginable and unspeakable.
She had lost everything.
As they began to move towards her, Melinnope's daughter spun around. Bare-foot and flimsily-dressed in a loose green, almost diaphanous tunic, she headed for the edge of the forest farthest from the rapidly-advancing flames. Her long legs kept her well ahead of her would-be murderers for a time.
But she was just one, and Hera's henchmen were many and determined. And they had an incentive; either she died or they did.
They were closing on her fast.
She leaped over a fallen log with faun-like ease and was making for a particularly inpenetrable section of forest close by the river. Beside her ran a multitude of the brothers and sisters-in-fur, fleeing the advancing flames.
She could hear Hera's men breathing heavily as they came up behind her now, although she herself was not even close to being out of breath.
Then they were on her. She was grabbed by several of them at once, and struggled wildly as they took hold of her with cruel, groping hands. One of them moved around in front of her, the hand containing his dagger going up in preparation for striking her.
"Time to die, forest bitch. Soon you'll become one with all the undergrowth you and your kind admire so much!" His dagger hand went back even further to better deliver the killing blow. Her forest-green eyes defiantly held his. She wouldn't die pleading for her life.
"And we'll see if half-breeds have green blood," he added cruelly, moving to plunge the dagger into her heart.
But something was preventing the arm from moving forward.
Not something - someone. He was a young man, perhaps eighteen. Tall, with long, golden hair and striking blue eyes. And his face told the dryad Princess and her would-be killers that he was very angry.
Still holding Hera's henchman in a vice-like grip, he told him quite calmly, "You don't want to do that."
"You can die too! Get him!" his prisoner snarled to his cohorts.
The fight was hard and furious. The dryad girl was forgotten as Hera's henchmen turned on her would-be rescuer.
One of them had recognised the stranger. "It's Hercules! Hera will be overjoyed if we bring his head back too!"
But it didn't take long for the young man, now identified as Hercules, the son of Zeus, to gain the upper hand. In a remarkably short time, he had despatched of Hera's servants.
The green-eyed dryad princess eyed him warily as he turned to her, her head defiantly raised.
Then, before he could even speak, she was off and running, back the way she had previously come fleeing her would-be killers.
Hercules took off after her.
When he caught up with her, it was to find her in the midst of a scene out of his worst nightmare. In the middle of a large, once-majestic forest glade, she now knelt, cradling the bloody body of a dead dryad in her lap, a queer, keening sound rising from her throat. Around her, lying where they fell, were the bodies of dozens upon dozens of dryad women and the young men of their retinues. Still others hung from the trees surrounding the great glade, or had been impaled on them. Some had already been burned beyond recognition. The death screams had ceased now; the clearing was silent. The stench of death hung heavy in the smoke-filled air. The once-beautiful forest was now a disfigured, charred and still-burning mess of dead wood.
Hercules slowly advanced into the middle of the clearing, his face reflecting his horror.
The young girl mutely looked up as he approached, her gold-flecked green eyes bitterly regarding him.
Raising his hands in a gesture of peace, Hercules gently told her, "I'm not going to hurt you. Let me help."
She was still eyeing him when she suddenly cried out, doubling over the body of the woman she had been holding. Her keening became a scream; and the scream was one of the most wretched, pain-filled sounds Hercules had ever heard in his life.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
Finally, she cried, the words torn from her. "It's the trees! They're in agony! They're screaming! Can't you hear them?" She raised her head to gaze at him in piteous appeal, wild-eyed and tormented, through the screen of her long, disarrayed hair.
For a long moment, he simply looked down at her, helpless to relieve her pain. He knew dryads shared a deep symbiotic bond with the forests they inhabited. The depth of her pain must be appalling. And somewhere close by there would be a tree to which she was linked. He looked around. No more. The forest was burning almost from end to end.
He reached down and gently moved the dead dryad out of her arms. "I think you should come with me. I know a place where you'll be safe," he told her quietly.
Slowly she stood, her eyes still on the dryad at her feet, panted cries still finding their way up out of her depths.
"She was my mother," she told him at length in a toneless voice; a voice that sounded unused to human speech patterns.
The son of Zeus's eyes widened. Feeling helpless before such loss, all he could think of to say was, "We should go now."
Wordlessly she looked up at him, then slowly turned and began to walk aimlessly forward. As he watched, she faltered, her head went back, she groaned, and slowly began to fall.
He caught her just before she hit the ground.
The sun was setting as Hercules, carrying the unconscious dryad girl, reached Ceridian's cave.
His mentor looked up from the pot of stew he had been tending, unaware of the cataclysm that had befallen the Northern Dryad Realm.
"Well, and what stray have you brought back this time?"
Hercules went to his own sleeping place and laid her down before responding to Ceridian's query.
"I was in the forest and stopped Hera's thugs from killing her. They called her a...half-breed dryad."
The old centaur eyed his student carefully. After all this time, the appellation still hurt, even when it didn't refer to him.
"She took off; I found her in the middle of a large clearing. There were dead bodies everywhere. Dozens of them. She was holding a woman she said was her mother. The forest had been burned pretty badly. I've never seen anything like it."
The son of Zeus's eyes were clouded as he finished, remembering the horrors he had seen.
Ceridian was silent for a long while after that.
"Where did you find her? Where is this clearing you spoke of?" he asked finally, although he knew the answer before the demigod even opened his mouth.
Hercules shrugged. "About 50 stades north of here. In the deepest part of the forest."
Ceridian shook his head. "I don't like this," he said slowly, a terrible feeling of dread making itself felt within him.
He moved to stand gazing down at the still-unconscious girl. Then he turned to Hercules.
"Do you know who she is? Did she tell you?"
His student silently shook his head.
The centaur turned back to the dryad.
"She is - was - the daughter of Melinnope, the dryad queen. Her name is Kendaa. I've met her once or twice when visiting the dryads." He gazed down at the inert, slender form.
"She grows tall," he added softly.
Hercules was frowning. "Then, if her mother's dead..."
Ceridian nodded. "This young one is now queen of the northern dryads."
"Queen of a dead race...," Hercules added, his voice equally as soft as Ceridian's.
Kendaa lay unconscious for over a week.
Ceridian watched over her like a mother hen. He sensed a great battle raging within the still form. The wood nymph was willing herself to die. If she had been a full-blooded dryad she would have died as the Great Forest burned around her, once the bond with her tree was cut. But being half-human, she still lived. Deep within her, she now believed she had nothing left to live for. Unless something could be done for her, she would be dead within a day or two.
He told Hercules as much. The young demi-god turned to look down at the halfling girl. Something changed within him; his face became grimly determined, furious.
Moving to stand by her sleeping place, he crouched down close beside her.
"So, you think you're just going to let go of it all; sail happily off to the Elysian Fields, or wherever it is dryads go when they die. You coward," Hercules barked directly into her ear.
Ceridian's eyes widened, but he remained silent, watchful.
Hercules hadn't finished.
"Your mother gave her life for her people, and you don't even have the courage to LIVE. Well, why don't you go ahead and die, because as far as I can see, you'd be a dead loss if you lived!" His voice was harsh, and had grown louder as he berated her.
"Your race DIED back there. Don't you think you owe it to them to at least try and live? You're nothing but a gutless..."
He got no further, simply because a slender fist had come up and slammed right into his face. He received such a surprise, he fell backwards onto the cave floor, blinking furiously at the sudden pain.
Ceridian smiled slightly.
The dryad's eyes were open and she was glaring at Hercules, rage in her fiery, now preternaturally green eyes.
"A coward am I?" she spat at him. "What would you possibly know about me? Or my kind?"
Hercules was slowly standing. He glanced quickly at Ceridian, before replying.
"Not a lot," he admitted warily.
"No, you great dolt. You know nothing," she told him coldly.
Slowly, painfully, she lifted herself up from the bed, and weakly got to her feet.
Then she saw Ceridian.
"Master Ceridian..."
The old centaur smiled gently. "Kendaa, child." Then, to the astonishment of both Kendaa and Hercules, he solemnly inclined his head.
"Your highness."
Her already-pale face blanched even further. One wispy-thin hand went up in an imploring gesture. "Please...don't," she begged in an agonised voice, shaking her head in denial.
Ceridian moved to stand in front of her.
"You can't deny your destiny, child. You are now queen," he told her quietly.
She lowered her head for a moment. Then she raised it defiantly, her face hard. "Yes. I can deny it. My people are dead; the Green World - my world - destroyed, thanks to Hera." she retorted coldly.
At the mention of Hera's involvement in the destruction of the dryads, Hercules's face tightened in anger, but he remained silent.
"I am dispossessed of everything. I am queen of nothing."
Softly and deliberately she added, "I refute my heritage. Hera wanted to destroy us; she's succeeded. I am no longer dryad. I am human...mortal."
Hercules snorted in derision.
"You think it's that easy, do you? Just make a grand pronouncement and that's that." He shook his head.
Quite calmly, she walked up to him, her gait still somewhat unsteady, and stared up into his face, her eyes now a slightly less iridescent green in the flickering light from Ceridian's cooking fire. "Oh yes. It's that easy," she spat at him, the pain consuming her radiating out from her like a tangible thing.
Ceridian's heart mourned for the loss of the happy, carefree young dryad he had come to know. He remained silent, simply watching and listening.
Hercules wasn't impressed. "And can you erase your memories...your very nature, at will too?" he asked her.
She made no response, but simply stood back away from him, closing her eyes, her body going rigid.
As they watched a great cry was torn from her, and before their eyes, her form shimmered.
When her eyes opened again, the wraith-like dryad was gone, and in her place stood a tall, slender, mortal girl. She was, or appeared to be, wholly human.
With one final effort, she glared defiantly at the tall young man staring down at her.
"You see? It really was very easy," she told him, before falling in a dead faint. Once again, Hercules lunged forward to catch her as she fell.
More than a decade later, an Amazon warrior lurched up in her sleeping place, her eyes wide in a pale face covered in a sheen of perspiration as she came awake. The full impact of the nightmare was still with her. Her breath was coming in great gulps.
After long moments, when her heart had quietened down somewhat, Kendaa stole a guilty look around the darkened hut. In two opposite corners, regular breathing could be heard from the still, sleeping forms of the two other occupants of the shared dwelling.
She drew a deep breath, her eyes bleak. At least this time she hadn't disturbed Khyra or Amphalia, although that had been the case more often than not in recent weeks.
That particular nightmare had been returning with fearful and increasing regularity, to the point where she now dreaded closing her eyes to sleep.
And combined with the nightmare was the Call.
To what, she couldn't say with certainty, except there was within her a sense of being Called. But the Call was becoming more urgent and imperative with each passing day. She knew that she would have no option but to respond to it before much longer.
The very thing she had feared all her life since that long-ago moment of repudiation in Ceridian's cave was now upon her.
For the Call was not to the human part of her nature; it was her Dryad self that was being called back to life, with compelling and insistent urgency. She was fighting it with every part of her resolve. But she knew that it was only a matter of time before her resolve was vanquished.
After all this time...and even now none of her sisters had any knowledge of her true nature, not even those to whom she was closest in friendship, except for Khyra…the past had caught up with her.
But soon, she thought, they would all know.
For another week, the Call bore into her. She became withdrawn, irritable and distracted. Eventually, her sisters noticed, and looked on her preoccupation with curious, puzzled eyes. But they knew better, from long experience, than to challenge her on it. Kendaa had a formidable temper when riled.
Night after night, the nightmares continued.
Over and over again she was forced to re-live the destruction of her race. And during the day her mind wandered fretfully and disjointedly among her memories. Memories of the weeks she had remained with Ceridian and Hercules, and of the bond and friendship she gradually developed with Hercules. Both half-castes - and outcast - they had come to share mutual support. As they had grown, the bond had deepened.
Then had come the time when the young Kendaa had made the journey to the Amazons, and after a time of testing, had been accepted as one of them. Her new sisters became her family. But she never told any of them, not even the Queen, that she was half-dryad. From that moment of total repudiation, she never acknowledged the non-human part of her nature; she didn't dare.
But deep down, she knew it was there, ready to assert itself, for all her ruthless denial of it.
She thought, too, of that long interval she had spent training with Ares. One day, not long after she had been accepted by the Amazons, the God of War had appeared to her.
Ares had gazed at the young Amazon with dark, unreadable eyes, and told her in a soft, seductive voice which vaguely disturbed her, that she showed great promise, and that he himself was willing to personally train her and help her hone her warrior's skills, no strings attached. But she had been uncertain. She had heard rumours… He told her to take all the time she needed to consider his offer, then took her hand and kissed it just before he vanished from her bemused sight.
She had given it a lot of thought. Anger had become an integral part of her nature since the destruction of her race. It was a living, breathing part of her. It guided her warstaff during training sessions with older Amazons, and she had come to revel in the satisfaction she felt when her staff connected with something - preferably living flesh. She had driven herself hard in those early years to prove herself and to become deadly proficient with her then weapon of choice.
If her sister Amazons had looked on with interest, so too did the God of War. It hadn't taken the fire in the young half-dryad Amazon to bring her to the notice of Ares. He had watched his mother destroy the young one's kind with studied indifference, although something deep within him had tried to express itself as the Green World was destroyed. He had watched in mild amusement when Hercules saved her, and then began to take a closer interest as he watched the anger begin to burn within her. After her assimilation among the Amazons, he had then watched her with an assessing eye. And when he judged the time was right, he had gone to her with his offer.
Then he waited - smugly certain of the outcome. Kendaa would, he knew, accept his offer. Her thirst to perfect and improve her warrior's skills wouldn't allow her to do anything else.
And so, the day came when she had gone to his Temple and presented herself to him.
The training itself had been brutal. Ares was infamous for never giving any quarter or mercy to those he trained.
Day after day he had trained her, unrelenting. She grew in confidence and began to hold her own against his vicious onslaughts with sword, staff, dagger, bare hands or anything else that he deemed to train her with.
He had, of course, fostered the anger in her, as it suited his purposes to do so. He knew that a coldly angry Kendaa would be a nightmare for any opponents on the field of battle.
By the end of her period of training he knew she would be a formidable warrior for the Amazons, and had smiled to himself, deciding he wanted her skill under his influence and command.
But he hadn't reckoned on Kendaa herself. The first time he had broached the subject of her joining his army in service to him, she had taken him by surprise, refusing outright.
Her refusal had angered him, but he persisted repeatedly after her return to her sisters. He tried threatening; he tried reasoning; he tried seduction. He even tried friendship. But every time, he was met with a resounding no. He decided to bide his time. There would come a day when she would be his, he knew. Ares never took no for an answer. In the meantime, he kept an eye on her and waited his chance.
And then had come the time when the Call within her began its compelling journey to consciousness. Ares was watching then, too.
One morning, when the imperative within her was almost unbearable, she had found a solid cross beam in one of the less-frequented buildings in the City and was grimly moving through a series of brutal chin-ups designed to strengthen already taut, well-toned muscles.
Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned a perspiration-soaked face to see Hercules standing just behind her, his face serious. The demi-god had arrived unannounced, simply nodding to the sentries on guard duty at the gates, who gazed at him with suspicious eyes, but waved him through after he gave the crossed, raised wrists sign of Amazon greeting. He had become well-known among the Amazons since Hippolyta's time, and their release from the power of Hera. While many still looked on him with dislike and suspicion, equally as many looked on him as a friend who had aided the Amazons on more than one occasion. He moved quickly through the city until he found his quarry.
Now he moved to stand in front of her. "We need to talk," he told her without preamble.
For a moment she continued her exercises, her face expressionless, before lowering herself to the ground. She reached for a cloth hanging on an adjacent nail, wiping her dripping face, neck and arms. Finally, she nodded slowly. "Yes, I think we do," she said in quiet resignation.
Silently she led him through the city, both of them unmindful of the open stares they were receiving. At length they reached the bank of the stream which ran close by the city.
Kendaa stopped and turned to face the son of Zeus, her face bleak.
"You know why I'm here, don't you?" he asked quietly.
"Yes - the Calling," she told him softly, her eyes searching his. "How did you...?"
Hercules shrugged slightly. "Dreams, for the last two weeks. It was...I knew you needed me. I had to come."
She nodded. "I'm glad you've come. There's a call. It's getting stronger and stronger."
With sudden and uncharacteristic passion she added, "Hercules, something is calling my dryad nature to life. Soon I won't be able to stop it. And..." She hesitated to say the one thing she'd never, ever wanted to say again.
"And I have to go back...to the Forest. To the Great Oak."
Hercules looked out over the fast-flowing stream without really seeing it, his hands on his hips, deep in thought.
Finally, he nodded, asking her, "Do you know why?"
Her eyes were raised to his. He saw the pain that she had buried for so long once again written large in the haunting green and gold-flecked eyes.
Somehow she forced the words out. "I...I'm not sure. I just know I have to go back. There's something...something important I have to do. But I don't know what it is." After a long moment of silence, she continued quietly, her face pensive, "Perhaps I'm meant to join my people at last."
He would have disputed that, but she continued talking, her disconcerting green eyes for once almost lusterless.
"There is no choice, Hercules. I have to do it. Whatever is waiting for me there, I have to go."
The tall demigod shook his head slightly, looking away for a long moment.
"Have you told the Queen or any of the others?"
"No - never. Khyra has always known, though," she told him quietly.
The deep blue eyes found and held hers with compelling force.
"You're going to tell the Queen at least, before we leave."
She drew in a sharp breath. "I can't!" Her voice sounded desperate, even to her own ears.
But Hercules was determined. "You've got to, Kendaa, and you know it. You can't hold on to it any longer," he told her, his voice firm.
Looking up into his eyes, she saw his determination, and bowed her head. "I could hate you for this."
"You know you have to do it, Kendaa."
Her eyes accused him, but she remained silent. After a long moment she drew a deep breath and nodded reluctantly.
Hercules cringed inwardly at the pain he knew his ultimatum was causing her. The tall blonde Amazon may have long-ago repudiated her heritage, but now her heritage was seeking her out and he knew that, whatever the outcome, he couldn't let her deny her past any longer. She was a close friend, and he cared too much for her to allow that.
Ignoring curious eyes, they went in search of the Queen of the Amazons.
She was in conversation with several off-duty warriors near the training field.
All of them looked in surprise as Hercules and the warrior approached.
"Hercules! What brings you to the City?" the Amazon queen asked.
"Apollena," the son of Zeus greeted her. "I think Kendaa should tell you," he told her, his eyes looking down at the blonde Amazon, whose face was now very pale.
For a long moment the woman at Hercules' side remained silent, but at length she swallowed and took a deep breath.
"My queen, there is a matter of some great import I must discuss with you."
The queen of the Amazons nodded dismissal to her companions and turned to Kendaa.
"Come, walk with me," she bade the warrior. The tall Amazon, eyes naked with pain, glanced briefly up at Hercules, who nodded slightly in encouragement.
"I'll be here," he told her as she made to follow the Amazon Queen.
It was a long while before the two Amazon women returned to find Hercules patiently waiting where they had left him, in conversation with several of his friends among the women warriors.
The son of Zeus looked to the half-dryad. Her face was pale but composed, and her eyes found his as she and the Amazon queen approached him. He was relieved to see that her face now held a degree of peace that had been lacking when he had arrived earlier that morning.
Then the half-dryad was turning to Apollena, who smiled warmly, reached out and hugged her. "Go with my blessing, my sister. We'll be looking for your return."
They didn't actually leave the City until just past mid-morning. Kendaa had made a quick trip to the Mess Hall and gathered some cheese, fresh-made bread, fruit and journeycake for them both, packing it all into the carry-sack she now wore slung over her shoulder. She had collected her sword, and after a brief detour to quickly inform Khyra and Amphalia of her absence, the Amazon and the demi-god had left the City, bound for the Forest Realm that had been Hera's killing ground for the dryads.
Helios was nearing the end of his journey for the day, when the two were struggling the last few feet to reach the top of a hill covered with lush vegetation. It had rained recently, and so the detritus and moss-covered ground was slippery beneath their feet. After a while, Kendaa sat on a fallen log and removed her boots, moving forward thereafter with bare feet, and with her boots tucked in her carry-sack. Hercules smiled slightly, because the contact with the still-moist earth seemed to ease the heavy mood of the half-dryad Amazon. As the golden-haired son of Zeus watched, she raised her head and inhaled deeply of the fresh, clean scent of recently-soaked woodland. It pleased Hercules to see his friend's elfin features lighten a little.
"You know," he commented quietly, "You're not going to die. No matter what happens, I'm not going to let that happen."
Kendaa turned, her eyes widening in surprise. After a moment, she smiled slightly. "Thank you, Hercules." She continued to gaze into the crystalline blue eyes for a long moment before looking away, her features thoughtful. "But somehow, whatever we find or face - I don't think you'll have any control over it," she told him quietly, before turning back to the path.
He reached out and pulled her to a halt. "What is it? This isn't like you at all. Kendaa, you're strong. Whatever we face…you will survive it."
This time she just nodded, her face pale. He could see she was filled with uncertainty. He sighed in resignation and fell in beside her once more, wishing the past was something they could both have done with, and simply get on with their lives.
They made camp just after moonrise in a small clearing in what was otherwise dense woodland. Sitting in companionable silence they shared some of the contents of Kendaa's carry-sack, saving some for the following day.
For some time they sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the night; the crackle of the campfire, the quiet murmur of the leaves in the trees; the occasional chirp of a cricket.
A rustle in the surrounding bushes brought both heads up in sudden awareness. Without saying a word, and with slow, silent movements, Hercules slowly pulled a flaming branch from the fire, while Kendaa drew her sword. Slowly they rose to their feet, moving until the were back to back, every sense alert for danger.
Hercules saw it first - two small round points of green, directly across from him. Slowly, carefully, he touched the Amazon standing at his back in warning. She turned - and saw. At the same time a low growl came from the direction of the green points. Eyes, Hercules now realised.
Beside him, the half-dryad expelled a long breath and resheathed her sword. "It's a wolf," she told Hercules calmly.
Hercules sighed, and lowered the brand to the ground carefully. He could easily deal with a lone wolf if need be, as could the Amazon beside him, he knew. She had resumed her seat and picked up the remains of her bread and cheese. "He won't bother us," she said, before returning to her food.
The tall demi-god narrowed his eyes and gazed at her quizzically. "And how exactly do you know that?"
"It's a dryad thing," she told him wryly, laughing softly.
Even as she finished speaking, they both heard the animal quietly moving away into the depths of the night.
Hercules grinned, pleased to see her smiling. He settled himself comfortably again, bit off a portion of his own piece of bread and chewed contemplatively for a minute.
"So, how's life with the Amazons? Are you happy there?" He asked quietly.
She smiled. "Yes, very much. It…suits me." Her smile grew. "I couldn't imagine being anywhere else now," she told him softly, thoughtfully.
Hercules finished off his bread and wiped his hands before leaning back on his elbows. "I hear that Ares has been pushing for you to join his army," he commented in a neutral tone.
The blonde Amazon's eyes fixed themselves on him for a long moment. She had known he would mention Ares sooner or later. He'd never made any secret of his hatred of his divine half-brother, and hadn't been at all pleased when she'd told him several years back that she was taking Ares up on his offer to train her. And she knew only too well of Ares' own mutual loathing. Still, she wondered how he had come to hear of it.
She nodded. "Yes." she told him, shrugging slightly, but not adding anything.
The son of Zeus snorted in derision. "You can dismiss it - him - as easily as that?" he ground out.
Kendaa sighed. "Hercules - he knows I'll never vow myself to him. He can ask and push me as much as he likes, but I won't go to him. I think," she added thoughtfully, "that he sees it as a game of sorts."
"Yeah, right. Be careful, Kendaa, because Ares never does anything without expecting something in return. He trained you - and he will eventually call in the favour," he told her, his opalescent eyes piercing her in their intensity.
She met his gaze unwaveringly. "Maybe," she replied noncommitedly. "How did you hear about that, anyway?"
Her friend finished off his bread, and took a draught from the water skin she proffered to him. "Laurissa and Bantia. I ran into them up in Alturia a while back - when Bantia went with the trade delegation."
Kendaa nodded. "They never mentioned it." But then, Bantia and her daughter - a good friend of the Amazon's - wouldn't have thought it important enough to relay to her. And really, it wasn't, she thought to herself.
She looked down, and restlessly moved one of the outlying pieces of wood further into the heart of the fire. "Well I'll deal with that if and when he does. How have things been for you?" She asked, changing the subject.
He smiled, recognising her tactic, but willing to let it go. "Oh fine. I haven't seen Ceridian for a while now. I should go back and see how he's doing. He's not young," he said quietly. "I go from place to place, helping out where I can, I suppose. But I don't know…I feel like I'm drifting, you know?" His eyes contained a pain that he normally kept well hidden.
The half-dryad nodded slightly. She understood what he had left unspoken. Unsure of his place in the world, he did move from place to place, never settling in one spot. But his fame was spreading. From time to time he returned to his mother's house, but would soon become restless and leave again, heading off in search of something that even he couldn't name to himself. Iolaus, his long-time friend, accompanied him more often than not - offering friendship and distraction, but Kendaa knew that his father was never far from his thoughts, even if Zeus rarely presented himself to his son. And the Amazon knew that hurt him.
"You never see Zeus?" She asked quietly.
He shook his head in negation, the gentle face wearing a look that few ever saw - a sad, resigned look.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. But he heard and smiled slightly.
"Oh it's ok, really. I mean, it's not like we have a lot in common," he said, more for his own benefit than for his friend's.
Neither of them said much for a long while after that, until Hercules sighed and moved to lay on his back.
"We'd better turn in," he said, his voice bleak.
The dryad Amazon gazed at his supine form for several minutes without blinking, before herself curling up close to the fire and closing her eyes in resignation, sad for her friend, and wondering what the following day would bring.
The new day dawned with Helios's chariot obscured by heavy clouds, and a light drizzle of rain.
The demi-god and the Amazon consumed a quick breakfast before heading off into towards the Northern Realm. It was only a few hours distant from where they had spent the night.
As they got closer to the place where Kendaa had begun her life, she began to change. At first it was imperceptible, but eventually Hercules looked down to see the unmistakable dryad features becoming clearer and clearer. He sighed, knowing she must be remembering the last time she had seen the Green World.
It was anything but green now. A dull, dismal, oppressive landscape soon surrounded them, and Hercules knew they were entering the dead realm of the northern oak dryads. Kendaa walked slowly at his side, silent. Her elfin features were closed to his scrutiny.
Slowly they advanced into the heart of the Forest, an unnatural stillness reaching out to embrace them as they walked.
With unerring certainty, Kendaa led the way through the dead landscape, her face deathly pale.
A large clearing loomed in sight. There, at last, stood the Great Oak. Even in its death it was an awesome sight. Long-dead branches extended from a massive, towering charred trunk.
The dreary, unrelieved greyness and blackness of the Oak and the surrounding Forest reached out and crawled its way into Hercules's spirit. Its heaviness was oppressive.
Silently he looked down at his companion. Kendaa was now fully dryad. She stood unmoving and unblinking. Almost, he thought, unbreathing, as her forest-green eyes moved around the landscape. There were no bones. Scavengers had removed even those many years before.
The dryad woman left his side and moved closer to the Great Oak. Slowly, almost reverently, she reached out a slender hand to touch it.
Hercules watched her eyes close in unbearable pain.
A loud, raucous laugh suddenly startled them both. Kendaa snatched her hand from the Oak, and spun around, her warrior instincts fully prepared for battle, as she unsheathed her sword from its scabbard while Hercules glanced upward.
Hera had found them.
"So, at long last the dryad queen reveals herself!"
Kendaa's fury was written plain on her face as she moved back to Hercules' side.
"I've waited long for this moment," Hera told her, almost purring with pleasure. "Now you'll join the rest of your race, as I always meant you to. You won't cheat death this time, halfling queen."
Kendaa's head went up. "One day you'll trip over your own certainty, Hera," the dryad woman coldly told the queen of the gods.
Hera laughed again, a deliberate, cruel sound.
Kendaa's rage was threatening to overwhelm her. Her knuckles white as they gripped the hilt of her sword, she added, "Your very presence defiles this place. Leave, Hera! There's nothing for you here but the accusations of a dead race!"
That cold, cruel voice laughed even louder. "Ah, but you're wrong! You're still here, dryad queen! The last of your race! How does it feel to know you're the last? To know that you are facing your long-delayed destruction?"
The tall, golden-haired demi-god moved closer to his companion. "You're not going to harm her, Hera! I won't let you," Hercules told his stepmother in a harsh voice.
The dryad woman was now silent, her eyes almost preoccupied as she continued to be assailed by the bleakness surrounding them. And yet, the hatred she had for Hera was boiling up in wave after wave within her.
Hera was still laughing. "We'll see, my half-breed stepson. We'll see!"
Then, out of nowhere appeared eleven or twelve of Hera's thugs.
Without preamble they closed in on the demigod and dryad, roaring raucous battle cries as they charged.
Kendaa's normal weapon of choice for battle had long been her warstaff but, trained by Ares, her knowledge and use of sword play was formidable. Now, as the first of the thugs engaged her in battle, he wasn't long in discovering that fact for himself. With cold fury blazing from her luminous green eyes, she dispatched him to Hades with ease before turning to face the next three making for her, daggers and spears in their hands.
Hercules was fighting six of them, and making short work of them, when he glanced in Kendaa's direction. He could see she was outnumbered - and they were out for blood. Frantically, he laid into his opponents, sending two of them flying through the air to land unconscious.
Then he heard Kendaa cry out in pain.
He spun around to see her falling to the ground, an arrow dancing between her shoulder blades. His eyes widened in horror and rage.
"Noooooooooo!" he roared, turning to deal with the rest of Hera's henchmen with a viciousness that was alien to his nature. It wasn't long before they were all laid out around him in various stages of unconsciousness.
Hercules sprinted for the fallen dryad woman while somewhere above, Hera laughed - in triumph now.
"No more dryads now! They're all gone!"
Hercules ignored the taunts as he closed on Kendaa.
The dryad queen was trying to crawl towards the Great Oak. Her progress was slow and agonized, impeded by the arrow within her.
She stopped moving as Hercules reached her. Carefully, he went to his knees beside her and examined the wound. With a great effort she tried to speak to him.
"No. Don't try to speak. Just lay still."
Tiredly she shook her head. "Hercules, listen to me," she whispered urgently. It was difficult for her to breathe, but she doggedly made herself continue. "The Great Oak...take me there - quickly!" Her slender hand had reached up and was gripping his tunic, her forest-green eyes luminous in her agonized face.
Carefully, he lifted her and carried her to the base of the once-great tree. Then he sat with her lying face-down across his lap. She was near-unconscious now. Gently, he examined the wound. If he removed the arrow, she would probably die, and quickly. He clenched his fists in impotent rage and pain.
Quite suddenly, they were no longer alone in the clearing. Hercules looked up to find his father standing in front of him.
Blue eyes sought and found age-old grey eyes. "You can heal her."
The look on his father's face was daunting. He didn't reply to Hercules' plea. Instead he said. "Remove the arrow, Hercules. And lay her on her back before the Great Oak."
Hercules stared up at his father in utter disbelief. "What?"
Zeus said nothing.
His son shook his head in a total lack of comprehension. "You can't be serious! She's dying - Hera murdered the rest of her race. Does she have to bear the brunt of your wife's insane hatred too? Yet another sacrifice?" The rage in the demigod was tangible.
The King of the Gods moved one step closer to his demigod son, his expression harsh. "I command you - remove the arrow, lay her down and move away from her!"
There was something in his father's tone, that had Hercules searching his face intently...an urgency, a fear - whatever it was, he had never before heard it coming from his father.
He looked down at the white face of the dryad-Amazon woman in his arms. She was unconscious now. He raised his eyes once more to his father; yes, the sense of urgency was almost tangible. There was more going on here than he was as yet aware of.
Not understanding, but for some reason knowing he had to for once obey his father, he nodded fractionally, tears springing into the crystalline blue eyes. Then he was carefully removing the arrow from Kendaa's back. Blood gushed out behind the arrow - dark blood, with a slightly greenish tinge.
Anguished beyond words, Hercules slid his legs out from under her, gently turned her over and lay her down on the desolate, black soil. He stood and watched helplessly as the lifeblood poured out of the dying dryad, soaking the soil beneath her body, and in front of the Great Oak, which not long before his friend had touched with such sad reverence. Tears coursed down his face, and he didn't move even when he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder.
"Son, it had to be this way. Please, trust me."
Bleakly, Hercules looked at his father. But he had no words. His eyes went back to the blonde woman now lying so still on the dead earth.
Minutes went by. Minutes that turned into hours. Still Zeus stood and looked, unmoving, at the still form on the ground. Hercules also kept silent watch, grief beginning to dig its cruel talons into his heart.
It was late in the afternoon of their strange vigil when he felt it. It was the slightest of tremors, but he definitely felt it.
Then he felt it again. His eyes flew to the still form on the ground, but Kendaa had lain unmoving, and apparently unbreathing, for hours.
There.
It happened again, this time slightly more pronounced.
He looked at his father. Zeus' head had come up and he had adopted an attitude of intense listening.
Now there was definite movement in the ground beneath their feet. The whole forest seemed to have started moving and almost groaning. There was a sound, as if the forest was indeed groaning.
The movement intensified until Hercules began to have trouble standing. Zeus still stood unmoving, his eyes now focussed intently on the dryad.
It was then that the miracle happened; before Hercules stunned eyes, green shoots began to push their way through the apparently-dead earth. All around them, in every direction, new shoots began to sprout and grow rapidly, rioting forth from the scorched earth. In very little time, bushes, trees, plants, vines, and blossoms were appearing all around them, a massive explosion of living green. The noise had risen to a roar.
Then Hercules' eyes widened. The blood-soaked ground beneath the dryad's body had begun to writhe. A multitude of vines soared up out of the earth, immediately entangling themselves into an almost solid cradle for the dryad, the long vines lifting and covering her inert body as it rose.
Behind the green bier, shoots began to sprout from the long-dead Great Oak.
Beside Hercules, Zeus expelled a breath that was so loud it drew his son's attention. Hercules turned to see a look of triumph on the face of the King of the Gods.
"Father?"
His father said nothing, instead smiling and nodding his head back in the direction of the Great Oak.
Hercules gasped. Kendaa was moving. Slowly freeing herself from her bed of vines, she moved to stand upright. At first she seemed dazed. She looked slowly around her, face creased in a puzzled frown. Her long hair had come free of its customary leather tie, and now lay around her in glorious fair profusion. She wavered where she stood for a moment, before running her hands distractedly through her hair. Finally her eyes settled on Zeus and his son, standing still and silent before her.
The tall demigod could only stare.
Kendaa smiled, a little uncertainly, and slowly moved towards them.
Hercules finally found his voice. "Are you...?"
His half-dryad friend nodded tiredly. "I'm alright, Hercules."
Still he didn't understand. "What...?"
She shook her head. "I'm not sure myself - it just had to happen. Only dryad blood could give rebirth here," she told him quietly, before turning to the King of the Gods, even as the forest continued to burst forth into vibrant new life around them.
The King of the Gods smiled broadly - it was the smile of someone who was highly pleased.
Kendaa bowed slightly. "Great Zeus."
Hercules' father reached out and grasped her slender forearms with his large hands. "My dear child..." He stopped for a moment, almost overcome by the depth of his emotions. His son stared. Zeus had always loved the dryads. The wood nymphs were one of the most pleasing parts of his creation, and he had always taken the greatest pleasure in watching them run free in the Green World which was their home. Hera's vengeful act of jealousy had stabbed him to the core, although he had never given his wife the satisfaction of knowing that. But now, the blood sacrifice of Melinnope's daughter had made possible the rebirth of the Northern Realm.
At length, he found the words. "You mother and sisters' spirits can at last rest in peace, forest daughter. Melinnope's realm is now truly and rightfully yours."
But the dryad's face was grim. "No, Great Zeus. It isn't mine. I don't belong here. Today I have fulfilled an obligation to my mother and sisters, but this realm isn't mine," she told him sadly. "I don't belong here," she repeated. "I'm not fully dryad."
The King of the Gods was taken aback at her refusal to claim what was rightfully hers. His own face quizzical now, he drew a deep breath. "Aren't you? I beg to differ, oh obstinate one. As you said - only a dryad born could have made blood sacrifice for the rebirth of the Green World."
Then he smiled. "But still - all in good time. The time will come when you will claim your inheritance." The last sentence was delivered in absolute certainty.
Hercules gazed from one to the other. He knew how stubborn his friend could be, and smiled slightly at her refusal to accept readily the words of the King of the Gods himself.
Zeus shook his head and grinned. "Melinnope would be pleased, I think. And Hera will be extremely annoyed," he told the dryad in mock-resignation before turning to nod a farewell to his son, and vanishing.
For a long moment, the demigod and the dryad stood in silence, gazing around them and reflecting on what had occurred that day.
Where earlier that day they had entered a scorched, barren wasteland, now they stood in the midst of a lush, verdant garden containing all manner of living plants and trees - each and every one a glorious reminder of the resilience and triumph of nature.
"I thought I'd lost you." Hercules quietly told his friend, his voice still raw.
She smiled, and reached up to gently kiss him on the cheek. "I'm glad you didn't. Your friendship means a great deal to me," she whispered. Her smile grew. "Come," she told him. "Come and see the Green World as no mortals ever know it."
Taking him by the hand, she drew him into the depths of the forest.
As they walked, she showed him things that astonished even him; things that would always remain with him in his mind and in his heart. And from that day, Hercules always held a strong reverence for the world of nature.
They remained in the forest that night, and just before they slept, Hercules asked the one question that wouldn't leave him. "Kendaa - what happened? Did you… Where were you?"
She smiled in the darkness of a tiny clearing illuminated only by the light of the moon. "Was I dead? I don't think so. At least, I didn't run into Hades," she joked quietly, before continuing more seriously. "No - it was..." She searched for the right words to describe what had happened. "I went into the earth; into the dead trees - and wherever I went, somehow it began to live again. I don't know how. I...became the forest. I gave it life, and in return, it gave me back my life." She stopped, frowning and uncertain of how to continue. "Hercules, I'm tied to the forest, and it's bound to me. Maybe that's the nature of dryad queenship - I don't know. Maybe it's something I'll learn. But for now…I can't stay here; it wouldn't be right. I'm an Amazon - a warrior. There's no place for a warrior dryad in this world. Warrior and dryad are mutually exclusive," she told him quietly, almost sadly. "And - I'm human too, and that's my fathers gift to me. With the Amazons, I'm where I should be," she finished.
Hercules gazed at her, a slight smile on his face. "Are you? Are you really? Perhaps there'll come a time, my friend, when you'll find that you're neither one nor the other, but both, and can accept that. I hope you do," he said, smiling warmly now, while in his own heart he felt the desire behind his words striking its own yearning chord. I hope we both do.
In the aether of the gods, the dark Lord of War listened to the exchange with a musing expression on his face. He had watched the events of the day with keen interest. Yes, the dryad Amazon had become a sharp sword that he desired to shape to his own making and ends. And she held within her a power of which she herself was not even yet aware. He grinned wolfishly, already planning his next assault on her defences. Oh yes, he was becoming fond of the half-dryad warrior.
But not even the God of War could foresee the manner in which their two paths would be entwined in the future. If he had known then what the future would hold for both himself and the dryad, he would have been greatly astonished.