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The Dryads' Tower

For twenty long years, no druid has inhabited the tower in the dryad's valley, leaving them vulnerable to humans who'd cut down their trees.  Finally, though, a mage who can protect their sacred grove has arrived seeking the magical knowledge the tower contains.   Navaar isn't a druid but they've waited long enough.  No children have been born to them in too long because a dryad's tree consort, after all, cannot sire her children.  A human male is needed for that.  The mage Navaar is perfect, for the night they captured and seduced him, three of the dryads became pregnant.  Yes, Navaar is a worthy successor to the druid who left them so long ago.  But then Navaar rescues a druidess from a Blood mage who'd wanted the tower for himself.  Dylana, daughter of the durid who'd last inhabited the tower and a dryad mother, has returned to the place of her birth; and she wants the tower for herself, and no man, even if he is a powerful -- and enticing -- sex mage, is going to keep her from claiming it.












The Dryad's Tower


Eldest dropped out of a nearby tree before the dust had settled. “Help me,” she commanded as she hurried to one of the pack horse’s sides and yanked a canvas off what Navaar had thought to be bundles of supplies.

The fiery auburn hair of the woman hunched over the saddle’s high cantle cascaded down over the withers of the rangy gray mare.

“She’s tied to the saddle.”

Striding to where the blood mage’s body lay, Navaar yanked his dagger from its throat and wiped the blood on its cloak.

More dryads leaped lightly from the trees.

“Do not touch the body,” Navaar commanded as he rose. When he reached the gray horse, he sliced through the bonds holding the woman to the saddle.

Iron chains clanked as she fell into his arms.

Her head lolled against his arm and her hair fell back off her face. Her body was hot with fever.

“It’s Dylana!” a dryad gasped.

“Are you sure?” another asked.

“It’s Dylana,” Eldest confirmed. She poked the chains on the woman’s wrists. “They’ve bound her with iron.”

The unconscious woman moaned.

Eldest yanked at the chains. “These are killing her.” She glared at Navaar. “Get them off!”

 Spinning, Navaar walked a few steps away from the horses, laid the woman on a bed of moss, and concentrated on her manacles. When they burst open, welts, blisters, and angry red lines -- which covered the backs of her hands, wrists, and forearm -- appeared.

He glanced at her face once more just to confirm what he already knew. Her delicate features were those of a dryad. How had the blood mage captured one, and why was she in this condition? Iron didn’t affect dryads like this. He looked up at Eldest.

“Is she from this grove?”

She nodded. “In a matter of speaking, yes; but, though she looks like one of us, she’s not a true dryad. Her father was the tower’s last druid. Dylana is the daughter we gave him. When Lara mated with the druid, she did not go to her consort afterward. Because she didn’t receive her oak’s essence, the child she conceived is not a true dryad. She will live and die a human.” Her face hardened. “If I had time, I’d call down the eleven curses of the dryad’s hell on that mage, but we must tend to Dylana. She must have been wearing iron for many days.”

Lifting the manacles, Navaar tossed them away.

Dryads scattered as their ugly clanking echoed around the small clearing.

Yellowish, malodorous pus oozed from open wounds on the woman’s wrists.

Gagging, the younger dryads turned away.

Cursing fluently, an action which had every other dryad gaping at her, Eldest jerked the mistletoe garland from her head, smashed the berries in her hand, and rubbed them onto the woman’s open sores.

Still unconscious, the woman screamed. Spasms shook her.

“Hold her, Navaar, tightly.”

Following Eldest’s orders, Navaar gathered the woman in his arms and held against his chest.

Eldest rubbed more mistletoe berries into her wounds.

As tears streamed down her cheeks, the woman opened unfocused blue eyes and stared into Navaar’s face. “No! I will never tell you! I won’t tell you!” She stiffened and then went limp.

“We must get her back to your tower. These wounds must be washed with the pure water flowing from beneath it.” Eldest looked up into his face. “Do you have any skill with wounds? Do you know how to help her?”

Navaar shifted the woman in his arms and rose to his feet, grunting as he did so. She was a tiny woman, but heavier than she looked.

“I’ll have to figure out what poison the mage put on the manacles.”

Eldest shook her head. “No poison. It was the iron itself. Her father was a druid of the old bloodline. Iron is deadly to them which why the key and the lock of the tower were made of silver and no found no iron in the tower.”

Tucking that particular piece of knowledge away in his mind, Navaar carried the woman to Hlmm’s side. “Down,” he commanded.

Snorting, the horse lowered himself to the ground and Navaar settled into his saddle.

Then, after a nudge of his master’s knees, the horse rose slowly to his feet.

“Can you trust someone to stay here and watch the mage’s body?” Navaar asked Eldest. “I don’t think any men will stumble over it, but it’s best if no animal touch it either.”

Eldest looked around. “Lessa, keep the scavengers away.”

“But Eldest…”

“The oldest dryad glared at her youngest niece. “You will do as you are told.”

Lips pursed in a pout, Lessa dipped her head. “Yes, Eldest.”

“And you will stay here until I send someone to get you.”

Her pout became more pronounced. “Yes, Eldest.”

The older dryad stared at the younger. “And if you do not do as I tell you, you will not be joined with your consort at Midsummer.”

Shock appeared on Lessa’s face. With a slight shiver, she bobbed her head in acquiescence. “No dryads or animals will touch it, Eldest, I promise.”

“See you do or you’ll spend another winter huddled in the mistletoe instead of curled among the limbs of your consort.”

After another bob of her head, Lessa scurried over to the dead blood mage and plopped down on the ground about three feet from his body and started shooing flies away.

His lips twitching, Navaar nodded to Eldest. “Can someone lead those other two horse to the tower?  The dead mage is sure to have books of magic in their packs.”

“It will be done. Now get Dylana to the tower. I will join you there with other herbs and tinctures.”

Once the other horses were secured, Navaar kneed his mount forward into a fast walk and looked down into the woman’s -- no, Dylana’s -- wan face.   He was now able to note the subtle differences between her features and those of the dryads. Her lips were fuller, her nose broader, her chin less pointy. As a matter of fact, her entire face was rounder. And, though her eyes were now closed, he easily recalled their vivid blueness, blue the exact shade as the deep lakes in the high mountains above the fortress where he’d grown up. Thick, dark lashes rimmed those eyes while the well-shaped auburn brows above them contrasted sharply with her wan complexion.

But her hair!

He finger-combed some stray locks from her forehead. He'd never seen any hair so unabashedly red. During his travels, he met both men and women with hair ranging in color from a carroty orange to burnished copper to terra cotta to dark auburn. But Dylana’s hair was more a combination of all of those hues plus a few more. Her long hair was rich and thick and seemed to have a life of its own as it tumbled and curled around both of them.

A picture of a thick lock of her hair wrapped around his cock appeared in Navaar’s mind. He wanted her more than he’d wanted any particular woman in a long time.

She moaned again and opened her eyes. “No. I will not!”

She thrashed weakly as her paleness gave way to a feverish flush.

As he stared into her sightless blue eyes, Navaar kneed Hlmm into a heavy lope. She might not share any magical secrets with him, but she would share his bed.



Available from Changeling Press!


Publishers of out of this world erotic love stories.



The Dryads' Tower Reviews




My god, this reviewer could hardly breathe while reading THE DRYAD’S TOWER. It was so hot and explosive it was a miracle the computer didn’t catch on fire from the heat being generated. It was scorching hot, full of interesting and enticing characters and the storyline went at a fast pace that left the reader breathless. Ms. Mays delivers a tempting story that will leave you gasping for more as the last page is read. This reviewer could barely breathe as Ms. May delves into the world of Dryads, mages and magic. It was a wonderfully told and this reviewer could barely leave the computer chair as I wanted to know what would happen next for Dylana and Navaar. Run to grab this sinful book and be prepared to find yourself longing for a sex mage of your own as you read THE DRYAD’S TOWER. It is one wildly entertaining ride from start to finish!


Four and a half hearts





What a delightful story about dryads, druids and mages. The Dryad’s Tower grabs you from page one and gets better throughout the book. Judy Mays weaves a book of fairy tale magic. Navaar is a fantastic hero and learns about love. Dylana also learns two can be stronger than one. This is a great book if you want a light read with erotic action.







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