The Wood Cutter's Son

by Thomas Wright

  “We have only received half of our fee. If you cause me to not get paid the remainder, I swear I’ll kill you and gladly pay the fine to the guild for doing so. Now let’s go.”

  Danfer cracked open the door and listened, then opened it a little more for a look. The way was clear. Harmia went first and Danfer pulled the door shut without a sound. They ran to the door where they had entered. Danfer placed his ear against it listening for conversation on the other side. Hearing nothing, he knocked three times, just hard enough someone next to the door on the other side could hear. The lock clicked and the door was pulled partway open. Danfer stepped out hugging the wall—watching. None of the other guards looked their way. He pulled the door open enough for Harmia to step out, then they both hurried to the first of many hiding spots they would use to escape the fortress.

  *****

  Although he wasn’t aware, Morgan now slept peacefully. The phantasm from within the chain warmed his body and soothed his aches and pains. All of the bumps and bruises on his head healed and faded away. Pink lines formed where the skin on his fingers had closed and healed. Magic infused him, preparing his body to be the vessel for what was soon to come.

  An elf paused at Queen Verlainia’s private entry to the great hall. It was between midnight and daybreak, a time when the fortress had the least activity, and the guards roved casually from one section of the fortress to another. She opened the door and entered, knowing the hall should be empty except for the prisoners chained to the queen’s throne. She was correct. Two bodies lay on the floor. She hurried toward the target, her confidence growing. Sliding a dagger from its sheath, she was ready. Just a few more steps.

  Morgan felt consciousness come flooding back in the form of a voice screaming in his head. His eyes wide, he heard the slight scuff of soft shoes on the stone. Someone rushed toward him, a glint of steel reflected in the dim firelight. Something spoke to him in the same way Crystal spoke, but it wasn’t her.

  Use the chain to defend yourself and show no mercy.

  He remembered the voice from earlier. He sat up and backed away from his attacker, then picked up the slack in the chain, catching the attacker’s arm as it arced down. She seemed stunned. He used her confusion to wrap it once around before she jerked back, trying to free herself. He kept the tension in the chain, trying to steer her toward the throne. For a moment he felt good about his chances to subdue her, then she let go of the knife, caught it with her other hand and plunged it into his side. Pain erupted—nothing like he had ever felt.

  They stood inches apart, him holding an arm that no longer threatened him. She pulled the knife out and thrust it forward again. Morgan was already letting go of the chain and caught her arm with both hands, twisting it, trying to wrench the knife free. She dropped her shoulder and plowed into his chest, pushing him backward, then slipped a foot behind his, thoroughly tripping him up. He fell on his back and she landed on top of him, plunging the knife into his shoulder above his heart.

  “You aided Jarol in killing my uncle Ellitholm. The queen protects the general now with an edict. No one can challenge him again for his position or seek retribution for their losses, but it says nothing about protecting you. The Southern clan wants you dead as well, so many will be happy when this deed is done.” The elf grabbed the hilt with both hands, working it back and forth, inflicting more damage.

  Morgan cried out, his shoulder and side on fire, but he couldn’t exert enough leverage on her arms to pull the knife free. The pain was almost more than he could bear.

  Wrap the chain around her neck and pull it as tight as you can. Letting go of her arms, he grabbed the chain, circled her neck once and pulled in opposite directions. His shoulder screamed in protest. Now kill her. Her blood instead of yours will complete the ritual and we will be free.

  What if I don’t want to kill her?

  Don’t be foolish. She is trying to kill you. Use her complete the ritual. Finish this and I will heal you.

  Morgan yelled, finding strength in his pain, stretching and straining his muscles. The elf let go of the knife to grab his wrists. Her face contorted in pain, her mouth gasping for air. He rolled his body and pulled on the chains. The elf had no choice but to follow and then their positions were reversed. Morgan was on top of her and he snapped the chains tight. The effort caused him to cry out in pain from the blade in his shoulder, but he didn’t let up. The elf’s eyes rolled back and her body went slack. He slowly released the tension in his body and the chain. He slumped over onto the floor, pulled the dagger out and slid it across the floor near the throne.

  Get up and sit her on the throne. Then coil the chain in a circle on the arm of the throne where it is attached. You will have to stand over it. In a moment I’m going to take back the small amount of my essence I loaned you to use as a catalyst for beginning the ritual.

  I’m not sure I can. Stabbed twice, remember? I’m tired and bleeding, if you haven’t noticed.

  Healing has already begun. Do as I have commanded.

  What is a catalyst? Is that the healing?

  I will teach you, but not now. We cannot waste this opportunity with explanations.

  Who are you?

  All will be explained. Now take the dagger and cut her wrist. Let the blood flow over the chain. You will have to move the arm to ensure the chain is thoroughly coated.

  Morgan dragged the elf by her arm to throne then lifted her under the arms, sitting her on the throne. He didn’t like what he’d been commanded to do.

  I’ve already beaten her. There is no need to kill her.

  You have much to learn.

  Are you the dragon in my dream?

  I was much more than just a dragon. Cut the wrist and I will show you.

  I will, but you have to heal her before she dies or we will remain bound to the throne. Me till I die and you forever.

  It shall be done.

  Morgan could feel disapproval through their bond. He grimaced as he slit her wrist, then held her arm above the chain, moving it in a circular motion around the coil as instructed. Blood flowed freely, coating the chain and pooling at the bottom.

  I will recite the incantation and you will repeat it. You must believe in the words, though you won’t understand them in the beginning. They will be clear to you before we are finished.

  I don’t understand why can’t you just free yourself. You’ve done so already.

  You ask too many questions, child, that require lengthy answers. What I’ve given you thus far was nothing but the power stored in these chains from thousands of your lifetimes. With raw power, I forced some of my essence free. What we do now will break the barriers that bind me. Then you will truly see.

  Morgan felt faint. His shirt, soaked in blood, stuck to him as his wounds continued to seep slightly. The dragon began to speak. To this point, he had understood the dragon but now the words were foreign. He repeated them as he was told to do, line after line. Then the lines started over and by the middle of it he found he began to understand their meaning. Then they began a third time and the lines were different.

  Looking down, he saw a mist forming where he held the chain. Like a black serpent, it slithered down his arm, wrapping around the elf’s wrist, closing the wound. He cut his own wrist and held it under his chin, letting the blood coat the connection to the collar then flow down the chain and mingle with the rest. The mist danced franticly around the chains as his chanting became demanding, growing louder with each refrain. Eyes closed, his knuckles white, gripping the arm of the throne, he bellowed the final line.

  Morgan opened his eyes to find a giant black swirling mass standing behind the throne. Then the mist formed with a purpose into the shape of a dragon whose shoulders reached the ceiling, the long neck stooping over, ending in a head larger than the throne. In the next breath, it dissolved and surrounded him, encasing him inside its swirling mass. He felt the dragon’s presence overwhelming him and struggled to remain conscious.

  He dropped to his h
ands and knees and stared at the stone floor as the dragon invaded his mind. He saw visions of the sky above, and then beyond it. His mind flew into the black of night and among the stars. He then understood it wasn’t night but an ever-present darkness that surrounded his world and the stars. Then it was over and he could feel the connection to the dragon’s magic, his mind cleared and returned to him. The dark hall now looked bright as day. He stood, the pain and fatigue gone.

  The apparition returned to the chains, rolling and dancing around them. Morgan could feel its happiness.

  Why are you still here? You are free, aren’t you?

  I am free of Verlainia’s spell, but I am still bound to the chains. I cannot be truly free until I find a worthy vessel. Until then, these chains will have to suffice. I will give you strength to free the chains from the throne. Then we must leave.

  What do I do?

  Pull with all your might, then do the same with the other. They will break free.

  He grabbed the chain and pulled just as instructed. One breath he was grunting, then he felt the power surge and the chain pulled free, showering him in a small hail of rock. He brushed off and walked around to do the same to the other side.

  What do we do about him? Morgan asked, looking at the enchained elf.

  Put his body to rest. There is nothing left of his mind. Hold the chain and repeat my words. The dragon began to recite, and Morgan repeated the strange words just as he had earlier. After two lines, the body burst into flames, but the ritual continued until nothing but fine ash lay on stone floor. Morgan pulled the second chain free, damaging the other arm of the throne. Looking at his handiwork, a smile lined his face. He gathered the chain around himself.

  Stepping around in front of the throne, Morgan lifted the female elf into his arms, walked to the hearth and placed her by the fire. She was on her own. It was all he was going to do for her; after all, she just tried to kill him.

  Morgan ran and jumped up onto the window ledge, staring out into the night. His new dragon-enabled vision let him see everything in the dark, whether it moved or not. New strength let him hold the stone ledge in a death grip. There was so much power coursing through him it was terrifying.

  As if the dragon was reading his mind, it began to explain. If your prey is warm-blooded, you will see the heat from their bodies. If it is not, it won’t be able to move without you detecting its movement.

  And if it’s a steaming pile of troll shit?

  You’ll smell it and the troll two mountains away.

  Am I going to be craving raw meat? Wanting to kill the shepherds and eating their sheep?

  Maybe. And you might want to ravage that elven princess you think of so often or the female captain of the guard or the clan chieftain’s daughter. Maybe all three at once.

  I’m not sure that would be as fun as you make it sound.

  I’ve had a thousand mates who bore me offspring beyond counting. Three females would be no challenge.

  Maybe not for you, but then, you don’t know them.

  Morgan looked back over his shoulder and chuckled, thinking about what Queen Verlainia’s face would look like when she arrived in the morning. He hoped she would faint, fall over and crack her head as he had done so many times. Leaping out the window, he landed and ran through the garden courtyard. Pausing behind an ancient tree, he waited for the guards to turn and begin their march in the other direction. He didn’t need the dragon to tell him that speed was another benefit of their union.

  He opened the door to the inner wall stairs and ran to the top. Two guards stood ten paces away, enjoying idle conversation. He picked up a stone and crept up to the top, where he could throw it and distract them. It hit with a tap-tap-tap, then rolled on the walkway and, just as planned, the guards walked away to investigate. Morgan took two long strides and jumped. It had never occurred to him to look first and now as he looked down he saw the roof of a building below him approaching fast. He hit the clay tiles and slid on his back and over the edge, continuing his descent. To his surprise, he landed gracefully, with feet planted firmly on the ground. He looked both ways, suddenly realizing he had no idea which way to go. The night was about to get even more interesting.

  Twenty-Four

  Alexis woke early but lay in bed, waiting for the sounds of servants in the hall. Her room was on the inside wall of the guest wing and had no windows. She would have enjoyed waking up to birdsong. The steward had offered her the room on the outside wall with the window, but she declined after thinking about what had happened with the assassins in her own home attacking from the door and window. The north was no place to let down your guard and she would take any advantage she could get. One entrance point was enough.

  She completed her morning ablutions and dressed. Railia had joined her in the guest wing a few days ago and had been placed in the room across the hall that had originally been offered to her. They met yesterday for breakfast at Railia’s request and she explained what Morgan had said about watching out for each other. Afterward, they agreed to meet every morning if they could and check on each other before bed. Alexis crossed the hall and knocked. She waited before putting her ear to the door to listen. There was no sound, so she tried the door before knocking again. It was unlocked. Pushing it open slightly, she called out and waited. Receiving no answer, she entered.

  Alexis expected to find Railia sleeping, but the bed was empty. It had been slept in, but something about it seemed off. The room was laid out almost exactly the same as hers. A bed, table and chairs occupied one side and a desk and wash basin were on the other. The pitcher was still full of water and the basin empty and dry. The heavy blanket was missing from the bed. She left the room and hurried down to the kitchen. The cooks informed her they hadn’t seen Railia, so she made her way to the great hall to see if she was with the queen.

  The hallway outside the great hall was alive with soldiers. Some had the look of just being rousted out of bed. Others looked fearful. She heard the queen yelling before she entered, and it just kept getting louder. As she walked through the doors, she noticed a group of soldiers on her right looking at the wall. There was blood on the stones. Another group stood around staring at the floor, where more blood pooled. Queen Verlainia paced in front of a squad of kneeling guards. Her orc bodyguards stood at the ready, weapons drawn.

  Looking past the scene, Alexis saw no captives chained to the throne. Morgan and the other poor soul were gone and so were the chains that bound them. She didn’t see Railia anywhere in the crowd, either. A sense of dread set in as she tried to contemplate the fate of her friends. Theralin moved past her in the crowd and knelt in front of the queen. The queen asked for her sword and Theralin drew it, offering it up with both hands. Alexis pushed through the crowd and stood behind Theralin, drawing the queen’s attention to herself.

  “Your Highness, Queen Verlainia. Have you seen the Duchess Railia this morning?” Alexis asked.

  Verlainia eyed her for a moment before answering. “I have not.”

  “I checked her room. The bed looked slept in, but the heavy blanket is missing and the water and basin have not been used. She was not in the kitchen and the cooks have not seen her. I thought she might have been called here, but I see that isn’t so.”

  “You can see there are others who are missing this morning. Do you think she is responsible?”

  “I do not think so. Railia has no magic and I think the sound of hammer and chisel freeing the chains would not have gone unnoticed had it been tried. The blood in the great hall indicates a struggle. Are any of the guards missing or wounded?”

  “They are accounted for and none have injuries... yet.”

  “Assassins, then. If so, they brought a sorcerer. Would it be possible they took Morgan and Railia?”

  “There are only two people I know who want them both. Raile and Tarin, Railia’s father and brother. I will have Jarol and the army destroy the Southern Clan on their march to the Southlands. Raile has gone too far this time.”


  They weren’t her people, but Alexis couldn’t let all the innocent people, Railia’s people, be slaughtered. “Let me go after them, Your Highness. They do not have a half day’s lead and I can make that up easily. They will have to stop to eat and take care of their prisoners.”

  “I do not want a war with your people, Princess. Should something happen to you, that is exactly what would happen.”

  “I am a princess,” Alexis replied then dug deep to strengthen her resolve in the face of a queen who had just executed two men herself. “But I am also a full-fledged ranger. You are aware of the reputation of the rangers I’m sure, Your Highness. Let me take Captain Theralin as well. We will find them and follow. If one of Jarol’s birds is in the rookery, I would ask to take it if there are no objections.”

  Verlainia began to pace again, swinging Theralin’s sword aimlessly. Theralin was trembling; Alexis rested a hand on Theralin’s shoulder.

  “I believe it’s a sound plan,” Verlainia acknowledged. “You find them and send a message to Jarol. I have some doubts, though, about our adversaries. There was a violent struggle; you noticed the damage to my hall but there is no evidence of sorcery—runes, sacrifices and the like potent enough to break the spell on the chains.”

  “I understand, Your Highness and am relieved that it is likely just assassins we must track.”

  “Be wary, young ranger. Something happened here I cannot explain. Also know that I want them alive. Be sure to remind Jarol of that. Assassins are the hardest to break, but I’ve done it before. I have to know how they accomplished this. They will tell me everything before I’m finished with them. Theralin, go with her and do not fail me again.”

  Alexis patted Theralin on the shoulder and the captain stood up. “Go pack and I’ll go the kitchen to get us some food.” She turned and took a step, but didn’t hear the captain move behind her. The queen was handing her back her sword. Theralin sheathed it, then the queen put her arms around her and pulled her into a hug.