The Wood Cutter's Son

by Thomas Wright

  Jarol looked at the king. “Ten thousand?”

  “Ten thousand,” King Illiand answered.

  Putting on his shirt and sword, Jarol joined his companions and watched as they took the elf away to the healer. His companions followed; one rubbed his neck and cast vile looks Jarol’s way. Councilor Numoi, who must have felt his advice was no longer needed, walked out with them. Neither the king nor queen tried to stop him. That honor thing must be a bitch if you lose, he thought, happy he didn’t have any honor to lose.

  The fun and games over with, they finished the treaty before the sun went down. All the fine points satisfied, a group of scribes wrote furiously, then checked and double-checked their work. The king and Jarol signed a copy as a tentative agreement. Then the king signed a second copy and sent it north via his best bird. Jarol’s signature would stand until he received the copy back signed by Queen Verlainia.

  A small dinner celebration was planned. The queen felt that anything larger might turn into more of what happened earlier. Someone’s honor would be besmirched, then Jarol would bloody her floor and the healers would end up working all night. At least that is the idea he got from Chamberlain Nafillion. Dinner was calm and almost pleasant. They had agreed on a treaty in what appeared to be an unheard-of amount of time—Theralin and Systhania couldn’t believe it. It was apparent some of the guests still thought they were barbarians from the north and could only be trusted so far.

  The princesses and their betrothed were allowed to attend. They ate quietly, making little eye contact with the Northerners, except for the youngest princess. She obviously wanted to hear more about what had happened earlier, but was encouraged to let it go by her mother. Jarol heard her get the last word in. She was happy that Jarol’s opponent had been put in his place. She had a bit of rebel in her, that was for sure. The dirty looks from her sisters and their betrothed just rolled off her. When she asked if she could be dismissed from the table, the Chamberlain Nafillion answered instead of the king or queen. His “no” brooked no argument. Interesting.

  On a high note, Jarol noticed one of the servants giving him a nudge when she walked by and a smile when she thought no one was watching. He stopped her on one of her passes refreshing drinks. “Could you bring a plate to my room later for one of our party who couldn’t attend?”

  “Yes, my lord, I’ll see to it myself,” she answered with a smile.

  I think that answers that.

  Seventeen

  Morgan lay tied on the cold, hard floor. He was sore, but at least Jarol had made him a pallet to lie on and gave him a pillow. When he wasn’t sleeping, he had been thinking about the encounter with Alexis and the assassins. She had come to set him free and run away with him. Did she really care that much? When he told the assassins he didn’t like her, it wasn’t true, of course. He didn’t even know what an assassin was until yesterday. He knew they were bad people just by looking at them and hoped his comment would throw them off, but he hadn’t thought of what he would do beyond that. As usual, he had only made his friend angry.

  He really needed to get up and move about, but it was kind of hard with his legs tied together. It was luck he had been able to stretch earlier after Jarol came back from his meeting with the king. He had to change and get ready for dinner and he let the giant orc Trobar take Morgan to the privy. He promised to have food sent up and someone would let him loose to eat. That was hours ago. He hadn’t eaten all day and his stomach was complaining, plus he had never got to finish his dinner from last night, try as he had to eat while the killers got ready to pounce.

  There was a knock on the door, then it squeaked open. A servant carried a tray much like the one he used as a shield last night. She was a pretty elf and had more curves than Alexis. She saw him watching her. Turning his head, he hoped she hadn’t seen him blush. He wondered about her age. He thought she looked older than Alexis but younger than Theralin, but it could be because she was shapelier that he thought she was older than Alexis. Better than all that, though, was the tray loaded with food and a pitcher of something to drink. Thinking about elf maids would be much better on a full stomach.

  She set the tray down on the same table he ate from last night. He hoped that wasn’t bad luck. “I’m going to untie the rope around your feet and hands. Don’t try anything. You’ll just get caught and I’ll get in trouble along with you.”

  “I’m starving, so I’m not going to do anything but sit here and eat every bit of what you brought.”

  “That’s good. I’m going to wait here for your master. I have to draw him a hot bath and see to his needs,” she said, lust permeating her tone. Morgan caught it and knew he better eat as much as he could before Jarol got back. Then again, if he was still eating, Jarol and the servant might get too distracted to notice him slipping out of the room.

  Jarol came back and was in a very good mood if the smile on his face was any indication. “We’re leaving in the morning. Things went better than I could have imagined, which is odd because everyone said it would be hard and take forever, but I don’t care.”

  “My Lord, I have your bath ready,” the servant called. Morgan and Jarol both looked toward the other room.

  “I think she means me,” Jarol said, smirking.

  “She does. She said is going to see to your needs,” Morgan said, trying to mimic the servant’s tone. Jarol looked confused at first, then smiled in anticipation and hurried into the next room. Morgan went back to eating and tried to ignore the conversation that started the minute Jarol was out of sight. He didn’t have a lot left to eat and was starting to feel uncomfortable due to the amount of food he had put into his shrunken stomach.

  He heard water splash and giggling, then another splash, then, “It’s good this tub is big enough for two” as he eased his chair back slowly. He didn’t want a scraping or squealing sound to give him away. Sliding the kitchen knife into his belt, he moved quietly to the door and waited. One way or another, they would get loud in a moment and he would turn the handle and slip out the door.

  True to his plan, the servant said she needed to put her hair up, so she wasn’t seen later with it wet. Then Jarol told her she could be on top and Morgan went out the door, not wanting to hear any more. He gently pulled it shut, holding the handle so it didn’t click. Standing in the hall, he sighed as he looked one way, then the other. He had planned only this far and now had no idea what to do or which way to go. One direction was a dead end with a large wood door and the other went deeper into the palace. There was bound to be guards, and people who would know he wasn’t supposed to wandering around.

  The door at the end of the hall won out. Since it was much larger than the doors to the rooms, he assumed it went outside. It would be easier dodging a few guards outside. There was no telling who or how many people he would run into inside. He hurried over to the lamp on the wall and blew it out, then quietly moved to the door. Trying the handle, he found it locked and saw the keyhole was quite large. He put the kitchen knife in the slot and wiggled it around, trying to feel the inside mechanism with the tip. In truth, he didn’t know anything about locks or girls or people from the north. If he could just get the damn door open, though, he wouldn’t ever need to know about any of them again.

  Realizing his lock-picking attempt wasn’t getting him anywhere, he pulled the blade from the keyhole and tried to force it between the door and frame under the catch. He hoped by working the knife upward it would release the catch and unlock the door. So intent was he at his task, he didn’t see or hear the person coming up behind him.

  *****

  Alexis didn’t try to excuse herself from dinner as she had the night before. She sat through it all until everyone was dismissed except those staying to discuss the treaty the Northerners proposed. Leaving the dining room, she was almost immediately corralled by two guards and taken to the Royal Library, where she found Master Auriel waiting at her desk. She knew an interview was coming, but to interview her at such a late hour made Alexi
s very curious.

  “Nafillion will be along soon. He wanted to join us after he had seen to the staff. How about you and I go ahead and get started with your story,” Auriel suggested.

  “Yes, let’s. It’s late, so make it quick. I have no desire to sit here answering questions all night,” Alexis said. She had plans to make. Not that she could say that out loud. If no one interfered—her uncle or assassins—then her plans might just work this time.

  The archives master had quill and parchment in front of her, so Alexis began her tale. She was thankful that she had only a few encounters with Crystal, so it wasn’t like there was a long history to recount. Then the archivist began to ask questions about Crystal. What was her appearance like? What language did she speak? Did Alexis witness her do any magic? Alexis cut her short, explaining that each encounter lasted no longer than a thrown rock took to fall to back to the ground.

  “You now know all that I know. I will take my leave, so you can continue your work.”

  “Your uncle wished for you to remain here until he arrived.”

  “I do not answer to him or you. Have a pleasant evening.”

  She walked from the archives down a silent hall. Her thoughts wandered in a mist of confusion. She wasn’t sure what had happened. Days ago, she knew she couldn’t have a life with Morgan. Her first real desire had been for a man, not an elf, and her first kiss had been with the same. Returning home to family and the life of a princess instead of the life of a solitary ranger should have helped her understand that those moments with Morgan were to be never more than curious.

  That had to be it. She was a woman, not a girl. She had been alone with no one to talk to about feelings that only surfaced when she watched a young man from afar. That must be it. She was curious. Was. When she saw him a prisoner of the Northerners, bound and gagged, something changed. No—many things had changed, but two things stood out. First, she couldn’t stand to be there in the palace with her family and the fate that awaited her with Milandro, and she wanted to be with Morgan. Suddenly, all the indecision of the past washed away. She knew what she had to do, and it felt right.

  Back at her room, she changed her clothes. She was a ranger again. She picked up her pack and opened the door finding her uncle just about to knock. He took a moment to take in her attire and pack. “May I come in?”

  “I’m leaving and there is nothing you can do to stop me. I will die trying and take as many of the guards with me as I need to.”

  “I know, but I would still like to talk to you. Then you can leave. I won’t call the guard.” Alexis continued getting ready, ignoring her uncle.

  Before her uncle showed up at her door, she had decided it would be better to slip out during the night and she wasn’t changing her mind no matter what he said. She would go all the way to the border and beyond and find a place to wait. Once the Northerners caught up, she would slip in after they were asleep and set Morgan free. Then they would make a run for the mountains together. There were many places to hide in the Black Mountains. It would be a good start until they could move on far away from anyone who might know them.

  “Alexis, are you listening to me?” Nafillion asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  “Sorry, I was thinking about something else.”

  “Yes, well, where do you think you are going to go? Once you leave and your purpose for leaving is found out, you can’t come back. I hope you were thinking about that.” Nafillion had watched her reaction when they brought the young man before the king bound and gagged. He knew there was something there.

  “Yes, I’ve given it some thought. I don’t know where I’ll go, but I do know I don’t want to come back. So that point is moot.”

  “Can I offer you a suggestion? The king briefed me on the treaty after dinner when everyone had gone. I mentioned that it might be good experience for you to go north and act as our ambassador. He agreed, knowing your ranger training would benefit you, whereas your sisters would be lost if trouble arose.”

  “I have no desire to make a journey to that hateful frozen land. It is probably still frozen in places up there. Spring is always late and winter early. Nothing wants to grow and lives are short.”

  “You would not be there long, just long enough to assuage any worries Queen Verlainia might have.”

  “Why would my parents trust me with this task? I have no experience and loathe politics.”

  “Alexis, child.” Nafillion pulled her into an embrace and whispered. “I know that and you know that. A good reason for you to accept—and right away—is you could walk out of the palace without fear of being hunted down and would be expected to be gone for at least a month. Do I need to say more?”

  “The idea has merit in that light.”

  “Such high praise for the only elf in the Black Mountains who thinks you are not safe here and wishes for you to find happiness.” Nafillion’s tone carried hurt in its wake. A little for his niece’s tone, and a lot for possibly losing her forever.

  Alexis saw the pain in her uncle’s face. “I love you, Uncle. I was only afraid you would try to stop me. Tell my parents I’ve accepted the task and am departing immediately.”

  “I shall inform them of your departure first thing in the morning. Hurry now. There are too many unfriendly eyes and ears about, even at this hour.”

  Alexis arrived at the stables while the northern soldiers made ready their mounts and those of their leaders. They must have been told to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. No one spoke to her but the sleepy-eyed stable hand, who she swore to secrecy. She felt the eyes of the soldiers on her, but she mounted and rode silently away.

  She patted her horse’s neck as they rode toward the northern gate. The mare’s coat was a glossy black from head to hoof. It had been summers since she had ridden Blackstar because of her duties. Rangers in the field weren’t allowed horses of their own, although there were some kept at the ranger stations for running messages and emergencies. In the summers before becoming a ranger, she and the horse were inseparable. In fact, she preferred her horse’s company over that of her family.

  “It has been too long, my friend, and I have missed you,” Alexis cooed. Blackstar neighed and shook her head. Her long black mane waved with the breeze. “So you’ve missed me, too. That’s good.” Hooves clacked on the stone roadway. The sound echoed off the city wall as Alexis passed through the gate and road out of Thor’Dunae. She had only been home for a few days, but it was enough. Disappearing into the darkness, she never looked back.

  ****

  It wasn’t going to work. Morgan’s nervousness grew in time with his heartbeat as it thumped harder and harder in his chest. He stood up straight to relieve the tension in his back from working stooped over on the door lock.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” a voice said from behind, startling him. He turned on reflex, trying to tuck the knife into his shirt. His elbow caught the figure in the head, knocking her to the floor. She wore a translucent white linen nightgown that caused Morgan to spend more time staring below her shoulders than he should have. Had he taken but a moment to look at her face, he would have seen her shaking off the blow and the blood on her chin and teeth. She growled as Morgan stuttered through an apology, reaching down to help her up.

  Theralin grabbed his arm and climbed his body like a squirrel chased by a fox. She wrapped her legs around his waist her hands clamped around his throat. “You’re choking me,” Morgan hissed between his teeth.

  “That is twice you have struck me and this time you will pay.”

  “It was an accident—both times—you stupid elf.”

  Theralin became a wildcat upon hearing Morgan’s words. She opened her mouth and lunged her face forward to bite him. Morgan pushed her back, his hands on her ribs just below her breasts, barely keeping her at bay. He managed to take a couple steps and pin her to the wall.

  “Theralin, you could have at least brought him to your room. You should know better. We’re guests here,”
Jarol said from the doorway of his room.

  “Shut up. He struck me again.”

  “Get off of him before you have to explain to the palace guard why you’re defiling the palace corridor performing lewd acts with a man.”

  “He was trying to escape again.”

  “And where was he going to go? He would have been detained by the guards within minutes. No, I think you have a thing for our prisoner. Morgan, take her to her room and no fighting.”

  Jarol had distracted Captain Theralin from choking him, and Morgan was able to mentally catch up and realize his current situation, including the location of his hands. He immediately let them drop only to find the soft muscular flesh of Theralin’s bare legs that wrapped around him. Her nightgown only covered part of her.

  “Step back, you oaf, and give me some room,” Theralin ordered and Morgan complied. He tried to take hold of her arms to steady her. She was shaking and one of a few things could be causing it. She turned with a huff and walked away. Morgan followed. He had no idea what he had done to her, but he thought he would try to do something right.

  Hurrying to get ahead of her, which wasn’t easy, as she walked at an angered pace, he passed Jarol standing in their doorway and saw the servant was still there, wrapped in blanket, waiting for him. A soft light shone from the next room, where he found a door almost closed. This had to be Theralin’s room. He opened the door, looked around quickly and held it open for her as she marched past him. She stopped halfway across the room and turned to face him. In the light, he could see the blood on her face and the droplets that stained the front of her nightgown.

  Morgan took in his surroundings. The room was almost identical to Jarol’s. He walked in the small room containing the bath and grabbed a clean towel from the shelf. “What do you think you’re doing?” Theralin asked. She hadn’t lost much of her anger, but she had stopped trembling. Morgan poured water from the pitcher onto the towel then walked over to her. She looked up at him and for a moment they stood there unmoving, eyes locked on each other.