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    Shaylee Druid's Staff
    Shaylee Druid's Staff
    Shaylee Druid's Staff
    Ebook115 pages1 hour

    Shaylee Druid's Staff

    By Bret Jordan

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    About this ebook

    Without Gorm, Shaylee is lost and alone in a coastal city where her dryad magic is weak and her friends are few. It’s time to move on but can she still move on and keep her dryad powers, or will she be rooted to one spot by the ‘life oak’ that holds her magic?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPurple Sword Publications
    Release dateJul 3, 2011
    ISBN9781936165971
    Shaylee Druid's Staff
    Author

    Bret Jordan

    Bret Jordan has lived in Southeast Texas all his life. He is married and has four children, girls with an array of personalities that often boggle his mind. By day he programs computers and by night he works as a freelance artist. When not working, drawing, or spending time with his family, he reads and writes stories of horror and dark fantasy. On summer weekends he can often be found running his motorcycle down the roads of East Texas.

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      Book preview

      Shaylee Druid's Staff - Bret Jordan

      Shaylee

      Druid’s Staff

      Bret Jordan

      Published by Purple Sword Publications, LLC at Smashwords

      This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

      SHAYLEE, DRUID’S STAFF

      Copyright © 2011 BRET JORDAN

      ISBN 978-1-936165-97-1

      Cover Art Designed By Anastasia Rabiyah

      Edited By Brieanna Robertson and Shoshana Hurwitz

      Chapter One

      Druid’s End

      I ain’t had a bit o’ luck with these seeds. The elderly woman went by the name of Ollie; she was a strong crone who kept to the old ways, full of pride and hesitant to ask anyone for help.

      She reluctantly handed the wooden box to Shaylee, age causing her liver-spotted hand to quiver. The item was a small thing. Something Ollie might have kept a ring in.

      I was raised in the northern country, and these berries were a delight that I remember pickin’ as a child, but every time I try’n grow ’em m’self, I don’t have no luck. They get as high as m’shins, then they wither and die. I don’t understand it. I give ‘em good soil, rich dirt that I dug up m’self from the forest. Didn’t mix none o’ the sand with it either like some folks do. I water, and plant ‘em at the proper time, but they just don’t make it.

      Shaylee opened the box. Inside laid a dozen tiny black specks that most folks would have mistaken as pepper. A gust blew from the sea and Shaylee closed the box before Ollie’s precious seeds could disappear into the wind.

      The old woman reached out to help, but drew her hand back as the lid snapped closed. Ollie wove her fingers together. I know they don’t look like much, but they was hard to come by. I had to do some fancy tradin’ with one of them Northern sea merchants to get ‘em, but get ‘em I did. Done planted six of ‘em little specks. Each and every one of ‘em came up, but then they died and I figured it was time to get some help, though ye know how much I hate to ask fer help from anyone.

      I know, Shaylee replied. Ollie spoke truthfully. She was a prideful woman who took care of her own and kept her own council. For her to ask for Shaylee’s help indicated how precious the strange seeds were to her.

      Shaylee looked around. Where would you like to plant them?

      I got a place all dug up around back, twenty barrels of forest soil’s worth. It’s picketed off so Bear can’t get to ‘em and dig ‘em up. I also been shoveling goat dung into the soil and makin’ sure it stayed stirred up. Good soil, that is.

      Ollie led her around the house to a fence made of branches. For a woman in her late seventies, Ollie got around better than many ladies half her age. Not being a woman who bragged or gossiped, she never talked about what her secret was, but Shaylee guessed she could accredit her health to active living, moderate eating, and a positive yet realistic outlook on life. Digging up and carting in twenty barrels of soil also had a tendency to keep one young and spry. If anyone but Ollie had told her that an old widow had done all that work, she wouldn’t have believed them.

      The old woman stepped up to the crude fence and opened the side-hinged door. Bear looked up from his nap by the gate and swished his tail in the dust. He was a shaggy monster of a dog with the personality of a sleepy old man. Age had turned the hair around his muzzle and eyes gray. He licked his lips and laid his head on his paws. His eyes tracked Ollie as she held the door open for Shaylee.

      The stench of dung rose from the ground as she stepped on the black soil. Shaylee walked to the center of the picketed area and knelt down. She looked over her shoulder to Ollie.

      The old widow nodded. That’ll be a fine place. Just line ‘em up in a row about a body’s width apart.

      Mildred, Ollie’s goat, came to the edge of the fence. She stuck her head through, sniffed the dirt, then pulled a piece of bark off a post with her teeth and lips. She chewed the bark and kept a watchful eye on Shaylee as she pushed the seeds into the ground.

      Get on, Mildred. Shoo. Ollie waved as she scolded the goat. The animal backed up a step, but continued to watch.

      When Shaylee had pushed all of the seeds into the ground, she laid her hand over each one and concentrated. In her mind, she saw a green spark of life below the ground. With her lips pinched together, she sent her will through the soil and into the seed.

      Bear lifted his muzzle from his paws and stared at her. His head cocked to the side as though curious. Mildred put her head through the fence again. She stopped chewing. Her eyes widened and watched Shaylee’s every movement. Ollie noticed the reaction of her critters, but kept her thoughts to herself.

      Shaylee sensed the animal’s curiosity and Ollie’s fear of the unknown, but she didn’t let it disturb her concentration. Instead, she burrowed her conscience into the seed and witnessed its inner workings. Though she had no name for any individual part, she suddenly knew how each cell worked together to bring life to the plant. She pushed her will into the black specks and made minor adjustments in the seeds’ ability to take in nutrients and water. Her final adjustment was an organic trigger that would allow the seed to absorb more sunlight when it broke the surface of the soil. With a thought, she could have forced the seed to grow to fruition in minutes, but that would cause Ollie’s fear to escalate to all-out terror.

      She stood and sighed. Using her power in the seaside village always drained her far more than it did in the nearby forest. The nutrient-deprived soil gave her dryad abilities little to work with. She needed an abundance of life to perform her magic, and the beachfront village had little to offer. If her mother had been a water nymph, she supposed it might be different.

      Bear gave a hoarse woof and laid his head back onto his paws. Mildred resumed chewing, then turned and walked away.

      Do ye think they’re gonna grow all the way this time? Ollie asked.

      Shaylee nodded. Yes. I think the problem is that the plants are from a northern climate where the temperature stays cooler longer. Here, the weather gets hot and kills them before they get completely grown. I think these might grow a little faster and produce berries for you before it gets too hot.

      Ollie cocked her head and stared at Shaylee for a moment as though a thousand questions ran through her mind, but she didn’t know which one to ask. Instead of asking anything, she smiled.

      Yer good with plants. I seen it fer m’self a time or two, so I’ll take yer word for it. Gods, it’ll be good t’taste them berries again. Bring me back t’my childhood, it will.

      Shaylee! Shaylee, come quick. She turned. A shirtless, sun-browned boy with hair the color of corn husks ran to the fence, waving his arms frantically. Shaylee recognized him instantly as Chaz, a neighbor’s son. She frowned with worry. Something terrible had happened for Chaz’s mother to send him all the way to Ollie’s. The woman never let the boy out of her sight for more than a few minutes.

      The widow Ollie put her hands on her hips and said, By m’dead husband’s fishing net and the sea god’s dorsal fin, Chaz! What’s got ye so stirred up?

      The boy nodded to Ollie, but didn’t answer her question. Instead, he turned to Shaylee and took a deep breath. He let it out in a gasp of words. It’s Gorm. He’s callin’ fer ye and he looks as pale as a catfish’s belly.

      Neither woman said a word. Shaylee rubbed the dirt from her hands into the front of her skirt and walked to the gate. As she passed, Ollie grabbed her arm and placed five shell coins in her palm. She closed Shaylee’s fingers around the money and whispered, Go. Take care of yer da.

      Shalyee nodded to Ollie, then followed the half-naked boy through the sand streets of Insmeer.

      As Shaylee followed Chaz over the sands of Insmeer, her fear for Gorm escalated and

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