The Wood Cutter's Son

by Thomas Wright

  “When we were here last, you took my purse and all my coin and I want it back!” Tarin yelled, then drew his dagger. The stable boy tried to speak and held both hands in front of him in supplication. “Listen, you half-breed mongrel, I’ll cut off your ears if you don’t get my coin.”

  Railia hurried to over and grabbed Tarin’s arm. “You know Jarol gave him your purse. It’s not the boy’s fault.” Tarin jerked his arm free and pushed his sister to the ground.

  “You’re just a mutt lover. I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

  Morgan didn’t wait for an invitation. He charged and pushed Tarin back outside. The elven soldiers were tending to their mounts when Morgan came at Tarin a second time.

  “You’re not too bright, farm boy. I’m gonna stick this in your guts and watch you squirm.” With a creased brow and dark smile, Morgan charged, paying no heed to his own safety. He threw his fist and body forward, putting all of his built-up anger in a punch that threw Tarin flat on his back. The dagger cut deep into Morgan’s forearm, a smaller price to pay than his gut. He grit his teeth through the pain, pulled Tarin up by his shirt and hit him again. The crack of fist on face was so hard it made the elven sergeant cringe. He sent a soldier to the inn to get Theralin. Another crack and the sergeant knew he couldn’t wait, so he motioned for two of the soldiers to grab Morgan and pull him off.

  Morgan pulled his arm back to hit Tarin again, but someone grabbed one arm, then the other, pulling him off and dragging him away. It was a night of even more misjudgment if they thought they could hold him back. Twisting and yanking, he pulled one arm free and punched the soldier holding the other, then started back toward Tarin. Someone landed on his back, driving him to the ground, then another and another piled on.

  “You’re only making things worse for yourself. That fool over there isn’t getting back up, not without two or three to carry him,” the sergeant said.

  “Sergeant, what is going on here?” Theralin yelled. One body got off of Morgan, but the other two kept him pinned to the ground. From his spot in the dirt, he could the stable boy and Railia standing just inside the stables. He took a few deep breaths and relaxed.

  “I’m not exactly sure why, but as you can see the men were fighting about something that took place in the stable. I sent someone for you as soon as it started.”

  “Tie him up, Sergeant, then secure him to a post in the stable.”

  “He is cut pretty bad, Captain.”

  “Then stitch him up and don’t worry about how much it pains him. I want two of you to bring Tarin inside and put him in a room.”

  The two soldiers who had Morgan pinned got up and pulled him with them as they did. Theralin got within a step of him and looked him up and down, disapproval on her face. She turned and walked away. The fight had left him when they led him to the back of the stables and made him sit against a large post.

  “The rope she used is lying in the stable with the captain’s horse,” he told one of the soldiers. “I’m sorry I hit you,” he said to the other. The soldier grunted and helped tie him to the post. Morgan leaned his head back and closed his eyes until he heard footsteps stop in front of him. The stable boy stood with a metal cup dripping water. He reached down and handed it to Morgan.

  “Thank you. I was a little parched.”

  “Thank you for saving me. Are you going to be in trouble?”

  “Well, considering last night I shared a bed with the captain and tonight I’ll share one with the horses, I’d say I’m in a little trouble, but she was already mad at me so it’s not your fault. None of this your fault. Would you take the captain’s things in and put them in her room? Do that for me and we’re even.”

  “I’ll do it right now.” The boy grabbed the bag like it was empty and hurried away. Morgan thought the boy was some mix of dwarf and orc. He was probably strong, too. A few more summers and he could wipe the floor with someone like Tarin.

  Morgan stared outside in an exhausted daze, then saw Jarol materialize inside the stables. Somehow Morgan missed him walk in. He had a smile on his face and a bag in his hand. “You have any water left in that mug?”

  “Yeah, but you can’t have it. Who knows when I’ll get another drink of water.”

  “Give me the damn mug and I’ll get you more water.” Morgan held it up to him. Jarol opened the leather bag and pulled out a paper pouch. He poured the contents of the pouch in the couch and swirled it around, then handed it to Morgan.

  “So Tarin came after the boy with a dagger?” he asked as he worked, getting a needle and gut string out of the bag.

  “’Bout it, except he threw Railia on the ground and promised to see to her when he was done cutting on the boy. I felt left out, so I included myself.”

  “You put a beating on him.”

  “And you wouldn’t? I saw the elf woman Systhania on the floor that day and you didn’t seem to feel too bad about it.”

  “You’re supposed to be drinking that.”

  “You didn’t tell me to, and it smells something awful.”

  “Drink it so I can get you stitched up.” Morgan tilted his head back and drank it in two gulps while Jarol wiped his arm with a wet rag. “This is going to hurt a little.”

  “Just hurry up and do it, would you? I’m feeling strange.”

  “You’ve lost a lot of blood. That’s what happens to fools who charge a man with a blade.”

  “What did you give me? I feel even stranger now.”

  “Something for the pain and to help you sleep. Did you really sleep with Theralin last night?”

  “You were listening. Please don’t say anything. We didn’t do anything, just shared the bed. She’ll hate me even more if you say something, Jarol. Promise you won’t.”

  “I’m still jealous.”

  “Why? She is just to make me her servant or something.”

  “Or something.”

  “I think I’m gonna go to sleep. Turn out the lights and lock the doors, ok?”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  “Mom will be mad if she wakes and finds the door unlocked.”

  Morgan’s eyelids fluttered in the candlelight. He was muttering and in that dream state that sometimes comes right before passing out.

  “Go to sleep. I’ll handle it.”

  *****

  Jarol untied Morgan’s wrists and laid him over in the pile of hay. He took his arm and placed it across his leg while he ran an expert row of stitches. The wound was deep, and blood seeped as he worked, but it was a clean cut. The dagger probably still had the sharp edge the blade smith put on it. He couldn’t imagine Tarin ever using it for anything before. He finished and put a generous portion of salve on the cut then wrapped it with strips of clean cloth. Smiling at his work, he packed his kit, threw two blankets over Morgan and walked out, passing the stable boy on his way in. He tussled his hair and smiled at him but didn’t keep him from his duties.

  “General, shouldn’t we tie him back up to the post?” the sergeant called after him.

  “Not unless you want to become a no-rank foot soldier again.”

  “Yes, sir. No tying.”

  Jarol returned to the inn and found his companions sitting at a long table near the fire. He took a seat across from Theralin, who was lost in thought, swirling her mug of ale with her hand. Besides Theralin and Berhart, his companions looked amused. Even Systhania was waiting to hear the story. As Morgan had pointed out, Jarol had been hard on her—no, brutal was the right word—yet she sat with everyone instead of locking herself away in a room. Maybe he was wrong about her. He knew it was her lord that he really couldn’t stand and he had taken it out on her. He couldn’t take back how he treated her, but he might find a way to make it up to her in the future.

  “Well, what did the lad tell you?” Stonehead asked as Jarol settled in. “I was sure the ride home would be boring, but here we have some entertainment.”

  Jarol looked at Berhart. “Tarin was going to use his dagger on the stable boy. Rail
ia tried to intervene and he shoved her down and promised to take care of her next. Morgan was opposed to both ideas and took Tarin to task.”

  “He’s got some stones, that lad. We know Tarin is no fighter, either, but a good dagger can be a great advantage.”

  “Morgan was a little tight-lipped about it. I would say he charged Tarin, pushing him out of the stable. Got in range and hit him once so hard it was already over, and the rest of the beating was just battle lust.”

  “Maybe he has a little orc blood running through his veins,” Trobar said and slapped the table.

  “Or dwarf. You can tell by his handsome face.”

  “Do we have a problem, Berhart?” Jarol asked before the others became too celebratory of his charge getting a beating.

  “Not from me, but I will have to tell Raile. He will find out anyway, and it would be better if he heard it from me. Slaves shouldn’t go around beating on clan leaders’ sons.”

  “I don’t disagree, but make sure to stress the clan leader’s son was going to hurt the clan leader’s daughter, too.”

  “Aye. If Tarin were my boy, he’d be getting two more beatings from me. One for threat’n his sister and the other for the stable boy. Trobar might want to beat him for the sake of the stable boy’s orc blood.”

  “You know what I’m saying. It’s clear some of you have taking a likin’ to the boy,” Berhart said, looking around the table. “Captain Theralin has claimed him as her servant, so his status is set. Had she not, I could just say he was a traveler sharing the road with us.”

  Berhart was right. It would be different if Morgan had just been a traveler who got involved. Theralin’s claim on him would now make his punishment much worse.

  “Aye, I won’t be denying it,” Stonehead went on. “He is a fighter, as he shown tonight. Not sure yet if he is brave or stupid. Probably a bit of both at his age, but a fighter no less.”

  “Yes, I suppose I will have to deal with Raile. Theralin, you’re too quiet. Is it still your intention to make him your servant or has this situation weaned you off the idea? You will need to be there when Raile makes his claim for justice against Morgan before the queen.” Theralin was lost in her thoughts and ignored Jarol’s question. She never saw his hand as it struck and knocked the mug from hands.

  “What did you do that for?”

  “I was speaking to you. I asked if you were still intending to claim Morgan as your servant. If so, you will need to stand with me when Raile makes his claim for justice to the queen.”

  “He is mine,” Theralin said and motioned for the serving girl to bring her another drink.

  “That’s all I wanted to know.”

  “He should not have fought for the stable boy or the girl,” she said, glaring at Jarol.

  “The boy has honor and did what was right, elf,” Stonehead yelled and stood up. He leaned onto the table facing Theralin. “What do you have against a poor stable boy who can’t help what his origins are?”

  “Nothing, you hard-headed fool. It was not Morgan’s fight because it should have been Jarol’s. He took Tarin’s purse and gave it all to the boy without any thought about the consequences. You should have known when we came back here Tarin would do something like this.”

  “Aye, I can see that,” Stonehead claimed and sat down. “Tarin has been quiet ever since that day and waited until we returned to the inn. It makes sense. What say you, Berhart? Does this trouble for the boy lead back to our general?”

  “I say the path is clear and he should buy the next two rounds of drinks for the troubles he has caused.”

  “How does buying you lot drinks help Morgan’s situation?” Jarol asked.

  “It doesn’t, but it will go a ways to help us think better of you,” Trobar answered.

  “Hear, hear. I always think clearer when I’m drinking free ale,” Stonehead agreed.

  “Well I’m going to check on my servant, then turn in. You may enjoy my share.”

  “He drank a healing draught and is passed out. There is no need to check on him.”

  “I don’t remember asking you if it was needed or not.” Theralin patted Stonehead on the top of the head as she walked past him and went out the door.

  “How does this happen? Someone like her infatuated with someone like him,” Jarol thought out loud.

  “What’s the matter, Jarol? Not the prettiest boy in the room anymore?” Stonehead asked.

  “I am as long as I’m surrounded by you lot.”

  “Maybe it’s not what he is now but what he will become that she sees in him,” Trobar added. “She is an elf and will live longer than all of us. They are patient and will wait to get what they want.”

  “Well I’ve got coin that says she won’t be back in tonight.”

  “You think she will stay out there all night in the stables with him?”

  “Two gold says she will.” He tossed his wager on the table and waited. No one took the bet.

  Nineteen

  Morgan woke from a hard sleep. He felt disoriented, then noticed an arm draped over his side. He lifted the hand so he could see it and realized by the clothing it was Theralin. She squeezed his hand. Did he wake her or was she already awake? He hoped it was the latter.

  “Are you still angry with me?” he asked, keeping his back to her.

  “Disappointed.”

  Silence.

  “You could have called for the soldiers. They would have at least delayed Tarin until someone could intervene.”

  “There wasn’t time.”

  “Someone would have arrived before he hurt Railia.”

  “Railia? He was going to hurt—maybe kill—the boy.”

  “That is why there would have been time for help to arrive.”

  “The stable boy’s life means nothing?”

  “You are a servant, Morgan, just like the boy. Tarin is the son of a clan leader. You will have to face judgment for your actions while the stable boy will go on with his life thanks to you.”

  “Then I’ll face whatever comes. I’ll saddle your horse and get your things, Captain.” Morgan pulled his hand free and stood up. He had to stand still for a few breaths, paying the price for getting up too quickly.

  “Morgan, you are not free to do as you wish. If we are lucky, it might only be a fine, but it could be imprisonment. You were unarmed, so that is in our favor, but I doubt Railia will be allowed to speak against her brother.”

  “Why do you say we? You had nothing to do with it.”

  “Because I am your master now. What do you think has been happening to you? I am responsible for your actions. I will have to answer and pay any fines for your crimes.”

  “Don’t pay. Let them do what they will to me.”

  “Foolish boy, you know nothing. But you will learn.” Theralin threw the blankets off and stormed out of stable.

  I know how to make you mad, Morgan thought.

  “How’s the arm?” Jarol asked, walking up behind him.

  “It hurts, but I can still use it.”

  “I’ll need to check it later when we stop.”

  “You don’t have to. I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “Theralin will skin us both alive if it gets infected. I’ll check it.”

  “Fine.”

  “Morgan, in the north we take what we want. In the old days, it used to be that the clans raided each other. It was common to ride in to a settlement and find slaves from all the different races doing their masters’ bidding. Now we are united under Queen Verlainia and we don’t raid each other. We raid in the south and take what we want instead. Food, livestock, men, women and children. You can’t tell me as a Southlander you don’t know that.”

  “I’ve heard stories, but Talons Station and most of the local farms have never been raided as far as I can remember. I’m not sure why. Maybe because we usually have soldiers. Most of the stories came from north of Talons Station, from the frontier.”

  “The frontier is free land and it draws settlers. They pay
no tax to the north or south and they get no protection. But they are also poor. There are towns and large settlements we raid often in the south, so it could be location and the soldiers’ presence that keeps raids from Talons Station, as you said.”

  “I know what I need to.”

  “Then know that had we been a raiding party, you would be in chains, following behind a horse instead of riding with a beautiful woman. Your back would be bloody from the occasional whip, and that is if you do as you’re told. If you’re rebellious, your back would be shredded. You’d be whipped constantly. Rebellious captives rarely survive the journey north.”

  Morgan was listening, but not thinking of himself. He pictured his sister and mother chained and whipped. Jarol’s words did nothing but make him angrier. When he didn’t respond, Jarol continued trying to make him understand his situation.

  “Consider yourself lucky Theralin is your master,” Jarol continued. “She has one servant that was gifted to her by her family as a child. She is a warrior, a captain in the military and captain of the queen’s guard. That is her life, not one of wealth and power measured in coin and slaves. While nobility runs through her veins, she does not embrace her noble blood.”

  “Lucky would have been for you to ride away and leave me where you found me.”

  “Be that as it may, that isn’t what happened. You will see soon enough. The farther north we travel, the more it will open your eyes.”

  “I should thank her for making me her servant—her slave?”

  “Yes, you damn well should thank her. Go get her things and put them in that wagon. We are leaving as soon as the horses are all ready. Berhart will leave separately, taking Tarin and Railia home as soon as Tarin can ride. That should make the ride north boring enough. You will stay out of trouble.”

  The sun hadn’t cleared the trees when they started down the road. Morgan rode in silence behind Theralin. His wrists were bound again, and his master had the rope tied to her saddle. Where was the luck in that?

  *****

  Alexis sat in her cold camp on a hillside just north of Frostbyte. It had been a cold night, but she had been colder during her time as a ranger. She wrapped herself in two blankets and ate her rations cold, knowing a fire would be dangerous. From her vantage point, she could see anyone traveling in either direction. Two trees had grown up next to each other and had left just enough room for her to sit between them. Her horse was tied to a tree on the other side of the hill out of sight and, unless danger threatened, she would never make a sound. Alexis had covered herself with leaves and sticks below the waist while her green cloak and cowl covered her upper body. She only had to turn her head slightly in either direction to see who or what traveled the road.