The Wood Cutter's Son

by Thomas Wright

  Morgan raised his hand slowly toward her face. Theralin grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “I’m sorry about what happened. Now, let me clean your face.” He tried to move his arm and didn’t think she was going to let go, but she relaxed her grip. He put a finger into the damp towel and wiped it across her chin. Using his other hand, he pulled her lip back and surveyed the damage. He hoped he was being gentle enough and really didn’t want to make her angry. It didn’t look he had broken anything but the skin inside her mouth.

  “You inspect my mouth as if I’m a horse and you’re checking my age.”

  “I am not. Come over to the basin and rinse your mouth, then I will look at it again.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, drinking then spitting the water into the bowl. It had a slight pink tint to it. Morgan moved his finger to a clean part of the towel and began trying to get the spots off of her gown. He was so intent with his work that it took Theralin clearing his throat for him to realize his mistake.

  “Are you enjoying yourself? You’re just like that man next door.”

  “What? Who, Jarol? I’m nothing like him. I was trying to get the spots out of your pretty gown.”

  “It’s already ruined, you idiot.”

  Morgan threw the towel in the basin and sat down in the chair closest to him. He was so far out of his element. All he could do was hope that Alexis would try to rescue him again. Then, if it worked out, he would head for the homestead and check on his mother and sister. There was going to be a war and he needed to get them as far away as possible.

  “When I get some coin, I will reimburse you, Captain.” Theralin laughed and it was Morgan’s turn to be angry. “What? You think I’m lying to you?”

  “No. Even though I’m angry with you I know somehow you wouldn’t lie. I only laughed because I see no coin in your immediate future. It will be a very long time before you can fulfill that promise.”

  “Even so, my father taught me the value of giving your word. I will make good.”

  “Do you still wish me to believe what happened was an accident?”

  “Yes. Why were you so close? It is as much your fault as it is mine.” Morgan put his hand in his shirt and pulled out the knife. “I had this knife. Had I turned to attack instead of trying to hide it, I might have seriously hurt or even killed you. You startled me and I reacted. It is as simple as that.”

  Oddly enough she agreed with him, but she wouldn’t tell him that. She had crept too close and knew better than to do that unless she was holding a knife ready to plunge into his back. She saw him and believed there was nothing he could do to hurt her. He was fast and strong, but totally inexperienced at everything except for the work he did for his father.

  “I have a solution to your problem. On our journey north, you will attend me.”

  “What does that mean exactly?”

  “You will take care of my horse at every stop and raise and lower my tent when we camp on the road. You’ll pack my belongings and have my horse ready and waiting. You will be my servant for the week-long journey, and when we arrive, if you have performed satisfactorily, I will consider your debt paid.”

  Morgan took a moment to think on her words. He could handle her horse, but knew nothing about setting up a tent, making it ready or taking it down. He wasn’t stupid, though; he would watch what the others did and do the same. Any other tasks she might have for him he would worry about later.

  “Well?” Theralin asked. Morgan just nodded his head. He could do it. “Good. Now leave me. I am going to bed.” She pulled her gown over her head and deposited it on the floor. Morgan watched her naked form sway as she walked to the bed. His face immediately colored a deep red blush. “Put the gown with my things and make sure you pull the door shut tight.” Theralin turned slightly looking back giving him a glimpse of her breast and smiled at his discomfort.

  “Captain?”

  “What is it?”

  “Can I stay here tonight?” Morgan asked. There was a pause. “Jarol has a companion for the evening and I would rather not have to listen. Can I sleep on the floor?”

  “Are you sure? You might learn something if you went next door.”

  “Captain, I know what I need to know and anything else I will discover when the time is right. At least, that is what my father said.”

  Theralin answered by throwing a pillow at him.

  “Thank you.” Morgan found a spot by the fire. It was burning low and not putting out much heat. He lay on the stone, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. He turned onto his side, not finding it any more comfortable and lay there until he had to turn to his other side. He faced the bed and could see an outline, but that was it. He turned onto his back and started the routine over again.

  “Morgan, come here,” Theralin said. He crawled over on his hands and knees.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Strip out of your clothes and get in bed. Hurry up before I change my mind.” He did as he was told, his thoughts racing. He could see in the dim light that she had scooted over. He lifted the cover just high enough to slide in. “If you have thoughts of anything besides sleep, get them out of your head.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “So you had thoughts of something besides sleep.”

  “No, Captain.”

  “This will be warmer for both of us. Don’t expect it to happen again.”

  “Yes, Captain.” Morgan knew he needed to be a man and not a boy. A beautiful elf lay naked only a few inches away from him. Luckily, he believed if he tried anything it would go terribly wrong and make things worse. He thought of Alexis and wondered what it would be like sharing a bed with her. A familiar feeling began below his waist and he knew he had to stop thinking about Alexis like that immediately. Instead he thought about his duties to Captain Theralin and hoped his work would satisfy her. He noticed her breathing had changed and knew she had to be asleep. He closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come soon. His wish was granted almost immediately.

  He woke the next morning with the captain draped over him, her head on his shoulder. He was too scared to move. She shifted a little and rubbed her face against his chest. He watched her, trying to determine if he could slip out from under her and get dressed without her waking. In the end, he waited too long. She looked up at him through sleepy eyes and smiled. “You’re so warm,” she said, then her head shot off his chest. She wasn’t smiling.

  “I... we didn’t do anything. Just sleep.”

  She lay her head back down on him. “I know. Its just been a while since I woke up next to someone.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Morgan grinned, having never woken up with a woman. Theralin laughed softly, her body moving against his. It was a soft, subtle movement. Even so, it had an effect on him.

  “Good one. Don’t be a wise ass. We have Jarol—we don’t need two. Now get up and start gathering my things.” Morgan did as he was told, all the while trying to cover up his manhood. The room wasn’t as dark as it had been when he woke. “I said it’s been a while, Morgan, not that I’ve never. I’m a soldier and have seen plenty of what you’re trying to cover up. By the looks of it, you have no reason to be ashamed.”

  He had his pants up and shirt on before she finished talking. She pulled the cover up and snuggled into the spot on the bed he had just vacated.

  “Morgan, I forgive you for disrespecting me last night. The moment was tense, and we were both angry. Never do it again. I don’t want to be forced to hurt you, but my soldiers will attack you if they see or hear you showing any lack of respect toward me.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Good. I’ll see you at the stables in a little while.”

  Eighteen

  Queen Verlainia read the message, then looked at the great hawk that delivered it as if it would tell her more. It wasn’t bad news; in fact, it was better than she had feared, but monetary concessions had been made and she wished she had been consulted first. It was likely Jarol had no desire to stay the time it would’v
e taken to confer with her on the matter and worked for a speedy resolution. She saw the hole in the treaty: the payment would only have to be made if they used the Black Mountain elves’ land to move a part of their army south unseen. She read on and learned of the goblins’ demise—from a dragon, no less.

  Finishing a second read, she felt it was satisfactory, especially for someone with no experience in diplomacy. She wondered how much help the others had been and surmised the decisions made must have been acceptable to them. She would have to speak to each one individually and then all together to get a clear understanding. It was all much too simple, which bothered her to a small degree.

  “Qan, have one of the servants go to the kitchen and bring Jarol’s bird some meat. Then put her in the roost to rest.”

  “Yes, My Queen.” He motioned to one of the servants. Mobar quietly cleared his throat to alert her someone approached. She looked up to see Ellitholm approaching.

  “Would that be word from the Black Mountains? I have not heard from my servant since they departed,” Ellitholm asked. “Was there trouble?”

  “It is, and no, they came to a reasonable settlement. Quickly, I might add. A small percentage of the spoils and reparations for any damages caused by our soldiers is our cost.”

  “Reparations? That could very well drain our profits if they are too extensive.”

  “Then we will have to have advise our army that willful damaging of those elven lands will come with severe punishment.”

  “It would not be elves to cause such destruction, but the lesser races. They cannot control themselves; they are weak-minded brutes. If there was to be reparations, I do not see why I should be penalized.”

  “All the clan leaders will share in the spoils and the losses,” Verlainia replied and paused. “If this is unacceptable, Lord Ellitholm, your clan can stay behind and receive nothing. But be warned, if they are needed in the future, I will conscript them and use them as I see fit and it will remain your loss.”

  *****

  Raile stood nearby, listening to the exchange. Ellitholm’s slurs about lesser races stopped bothering him summers ago. Verlainia was not one to be trifled with and Ellitholm was already working toward doing little and gaining much in the upcoming war, but it didn’t seem to be working. Every clan leader tried to hold a little back of what was required by the crown to be taxed and the queen was no fool. She let a transgression slide here and there if the clan leaders weren’t too greedy, but Ellitholm was a schemer and he was already testing the waters with his objections.

  The queen was not beloved by her people, but she was respected. Every race that knelt and paid allegiance was treated the same. Her judgments were known to be swift and often brutal, if it was warranted. There were no long debates with councilors, taking days or weeks for resolution. Rumor had it that today a clan leader would be put in his place. Raile had hoped it was Ellitholm, but Verlainia so far had only spoken to him as she normally would.

  The queen motioned to Mobar, her personal guard. He walked out and returned a short time later—giving everyone time to speculate—with Crag the Goblin Clan leader. It made sense. Crag was about to pay for the mistakes made by the scouting party he sent south as spies. They had gone rogue and began raiding small towns and settlements in the Southlands, possibly ruining their chances of surprising the Southland king and his army. Mobar, who was at least two heads taller, held the goblin by the back of his neck as he directed him in front of the queen and next to Ellitholm.

  “Crag, you have disappointed me. Did you not choose the party that went south?”

  “I did, My Queen, but I had no idea the leader I chose was so treacherous,” Crag said, wringing his hands in fear. “He will be dealt with. I promise.”

  Raile knew whining and promises wouldn’t work. This war was too important.

  “He and the rest have already been dealt with, which leaves only you, clan leader.”

  “Why did you place this foul-smelling creature near me?” Ellitholm asked Mobar. His tone reeked of disdain. He had no fear of insulting the goblin chief. She would not chastise him for any insults in this case.

  “Shut up, elf. I am a clan leader and equal to you in this great hall. I stand where I please.”

  “Not today, you don’t,” Raile said, laughing and motioning with his head to Mobar. Verlainia nodded to Mobar and the orc giant’s fist struck Crag in the side of the head. Blood spattered Ellitholm and a tooth bounced off his arm. Mobar held the goblin, striking him again before the goblin could gain his wits. After that, the orc had to hold him up by back of his shirt while he continued to batter the goblin into a bloody mess before letting him drop to the floor.

  “You... you’ve covered me in goblin blood,” Ellitholm yelled. Mobar stepped over Crag, grabbed the elf by the front of jacket and lifted him off the floor.

  “And now I will mix some of yours with it.” Mobar cocked his arm.

  “Enough, Mobar, Lord Ellitholm is not on our punishment list today. Be patient. I’m sure he will be soon enough.” Mobar let him drop and pushed him away. Ellitholm stumbled, then, regaining his footing, marched out of hall muttering to himself. Crag lay on the floor unmoving. Every few breaths, he whimpered in pain. Raile didn’t feel sorry for him; the goblin was lucky to be alive. Berhart and his children would be home soon, and he would talk to them before the queen called for them and decide what truths or lies would then need to be told. With their arrival, he would begin his campaign to discredit their new general.

  *****

  Morgan and his captors rode out of Thor’Dunae. Some of them smiled, happy to be on their way home. They passed beyond the elven border, arriving in the Northlands by midday. Jarol wanted to make it to an inn in a town called Frostbyte by nightfall.

  While Railia seemed pleasant enough, he noticed she wasn’t as friendly as she had been before toward him. Every time he spoke to her, she slowed her horse to fall behind him or looked away, declining to engage. After the first couple tries, he quit trying. Something had happened, but he hadn’t a clue what it was. It seemed like he couldn’t be at peace with anyone he found he liked for more that a day or two. He had protected her from Tarin when he had threatened her and the stable boy with a knife and thought that would warrant something. Kindness or friendship maybe, but it wasn’t meant to be.

  Morgan’s thoughts settled on his mother and sister. So much had happened, he hadn’t had a chance to think about them in a couple days. They were all alone now and he had to know if they were ok, but he wouldn’t find that out while tied up and heading in the wrong direction. Asking questions might make the captain angry again, but he had to take the chance. He was learning there was so much he didn’t know. He had spent all his life doing what his parents asked of him, and all of that had involved work that needed to be done around their homestead and no lessons about the world beyond them. Admittedly, he knew they gave him everything they could and the knowledge he needed to do his chores and taught him well. He just wished they had told him of the world and... women.

  “Captain, why am I being taken north?” Morgan asked. “I understand you needed me in dealing with the king, but that is over now. Why can’t you let me go?”

  Theralin pulled the rope she had tied around Morgan’s wrists, drawing him closer. She leaned back slightly so their heads were close together. “Are you that naïve you don’t understand why?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m worried about my mother and my sister. They have no one to protect them. You know this. You saw me bury my father and brothers.”

  “You need to forget them, Morgan. Otherwise it will only bring you trouble,” Theralin said, trying to be kind. “You are going to be a servant in my house. Life will not be so bad.”

  “Will you let me go to them and see that they are safe? I promise I’ll return and serve you once that is done,” he pleaded. “Mother has family. I could help them move there and—”

  Theralin laughed loud enough to draw attention to them. When
she didn’t say anything, the others resumed their conversations. “A master would be a fool to agree to that. Had you been in my service for some time and proven your loyalty, I would possibly consider it.”

  “What remains of my family—those I love—could be dead by then.” He didn’t try to hide the sadness he felt. “How can you ask me to forget them when they are all I have left?”

  “I say it because I feel it is best for you. You do not understand now, but—”

  “No, you do not understand. Have you no feeling? Did you not have a father and mother? Brothers and sisters? Did you just walk away from them and forget they existed?”

  “They are all dead. Enough of your whining. Be silent unless I ask you to speak,” Theralin snapped. Once again, everyone was looking at them. Morgan stared at an imaginary spot between her shoulders, not wanting to look at anyone. He didn’t know all her family was dead. He wouldn’t apologize, either. He had been apologizing too often for his actions. Her words made some sense to him, but he hadn’t lost all of his family yet and had to do something to prevent it.

  They rode in silence the rest of the way to the Three Dragons Inn, where Theralin ordered him to see to her horse and then bring her things inside. An odd-looking fellow came around the side of the inn, saw Jarol and burst into a flurry of activity. After a few pleasantries from the clan leaders, he took Jarol’s, Stonehead’s and Trobar’s horses first, leading them away. Morgan followed him with Theralin’s mount, happy that he didn’t have to speak with anyone to accomplish his task. He had unsaddled the horse and began brushing it when Railia and Tarin arrived. Railia had two mounts in tow—one was Berhart’s. Tarin looked like a storm cloud ready to burst, while Railia spoke softly, trying to calm whatever ailed him.

  “I would be happy to help you with one of horses,” Morgan said, hoping Railia might finally speak to him. Tarin gave him a dirty look then headed straight for the stable boy.