The Wood Cutter's Son

by Thomas Wright

  Reaching up slowly, he wiped the sweat from his eyes and paused a moment to look beyond the row of spearhead-like teeth. Something within her scales captured the moonlight and made them glow. He hadn’t noticed it during that day on the road and his eyes were closed for almost the whole ride through the sky tonight. But now, still and unmoving, he could see it.

  A snort blew a heavy gust of hot air and returned his attention back to the dangerous parts. Her eyes were the size of giant fall pumpkins, except right now she squinted through slotted lids. So close was she he could reach up and touch the lips drawn back over her teeth in an angry smile. He’d seen that look before. Not sure why, he lay his hand between her nostrils in the same place he had hit her with the sword. Pain shot through his arm and shoulder, but eased when he rested it in place. He lay waiting for her to decide his fate.

  Stop that. Why do you touch me?

  “Sorry I needed something to do while I wait.”

  Wait?

  “For you to kill me, eat me, whatever. That’s what you said.”

  I am aware of what I said to you. But I never said when. You are strange. In your place, all others would reek of fear and... other things.

  “Your tone gave me the feeling that my death was certain. If that isn’t true, could you let me up?” Morgan asked. “I need to take care of those other things thanks to you. Almost took care of them on your back when you dove for the earth, but I kept thinking if I lived that you’d be even angrier.”

  I will know if you lie, so tell me true. Why did you not try to kill me on the road? I thought maybe you are unskilled, but then I went back and found the guard dead, nearly clove in two. Armor and bone cut clean. It was clear you could have caused harm or even death had you chosen to.

  The dragon obviously didn’t want to speak of his bodily needs. Maybe if he answered her she would let him get up. “I am not very skilled, that is true, but I used the flat of my blade to hit you because I didn’t want to hurt you. Dra wants me to use his magic and kill with no thought. I used his magic the night we escaped and it... changed me. I could see, hear and smell like a dragon or better, and I was strong. But I also felt ruthless and killed a man. With the sword and dragon magic, I could have killed you and the guards on the road that day and went on my way. But I thought to try what I felt right first.”

  “Morgan!” Lorna yelled.

  “Over here.” Morgan raised his other hand and waved.

  “Do not hurt them. They have no part in this other than we travel together.” He hadn’t realized that he now stroked the dragon’s nose, or that she had stopped showing her teeth. He had closed his eyes waiting, but not wanting to see what would befall him.

  You fear me, but you do not reek of it and you face it well. I was given a task by the Ancient One. She intends to safeguard the sword. To keep it from upsetting the balance of power.

  “I have never heard of an Ancient One.”

  They were created by the gods to serve and protect the land and sea when the world was created. When the gods left, the Ancient Ones became gods to all the races. In time, the races turned away from them and they began the long sleep. Now one has awoken, and she bade me bring her the chains, not knowing you had forged them into a sword.

  “Did you say she? Is she tall and beautiful with blue skin?” Morgan asked, curious.

  Yes. She calls herself Crystal. It is not her true name, but a name given to her when all the races were children of the gods. But you cannot know her—it is not possible.

  Morgan couldn’t help but laugh. “I know her. I think we met just after she woke from her long sleep. I believe she and I are friends and she would tell you the same. Go to her and tell her that Dra lives in a sword now and that I, Morgan, have it. Dra says we are bonded. Tell her that, too. Tell her I cannot give the sword away and she will have to kill me to take it. I think she will release you from this duty, but if not, come back and we will fight to the death.”

  It seemed an eternity before she answered. He knew his friends waited a stone’s throw away to make sure he was ok. I will travel with you to ensure you and the sword remain safe. I know where Crystal is, and your journey takes us close to her. If you are truly friends, she will not be upset I accompanied you and your companions.

  “Fine with me, but find your own food.”

  I will provide enough for all.

  “Not sure that will be necessary,” Morgan answered, unsure what anything would taste like once it had been in a dragon’s mouth.

  Tell me, why did you touch me like that?

  “Don’t move,” Morgan said, then laid his head on the hilt of his sword, which rested above his shoulder. Dra? Laughing was all he heard. Then he felt the white dragon’s skin move under his hand, accompanying the rumble in her chest. He moved his head away and pulled his hand back. Did she hear it through him?

  “I sometimes think the spirit of a jester lying about being a dragon lives in this sword. I thought it would calm you.”

  It is not calming; it is the prelude to mating and, as you see, I have no mate. I understand now. I could hear him laughing through you.

  “He is changed since I first freed him, and I don’t know if it is good or bad. He wants me to learn things, but his answers are more dangerous than the problems.”

  Your friends come closer. You should join them. I will rest here in the field until morning.

  “We will leave at first light and should arrive at the camp of the Northland army by mid-afternoon. Maybe that would be a good time for you to go see Crystal. I’m not sure how the army will react to your presence.”

  Once I deliver the message, I’ll return with an answer. I hope you know her because if this is another jest by you and Dra, I will eat you.

  Morgan shrugged his shoulders and was quickly reminded of his injuries. But he wasn’t worried; there was no way Crystal wouldn’t remember him. Slowly climbing to his feet, he walked away hurting, which was nothing new. He was not yet seventeen summers, but he knew there was no boy or man in Talons Station or all of Torfellon who had been through what he had. “Dragon, my father told me my great-great-grandsire was eaten by a dragon. The beast’s bowels swelled up and it blew itself apart, dying on the spot.”

  The dragon snorted and squinted its eyes, examining Morgan for the truth. Morgan turned away to hide the smile that would reveal the lie. A pain ended his levity. He had spent over a moon, but not yet two, getting hurt. Everything happened in such a short time, but it felt like much longer, he thought as he stumbled along. Meeting Crystal, an Ancient One, the deaths of his father and brothers, being taken captive and traveling to two kingdoms and being shackled to magic chains. Escaping with the magic chains, killing a man for a woman and making a magic sword possessed by a dragon god’s spirit. Being on the run, killing an elf and wooing, no, fondling a dragon. He hoped it didn’t get any worse. Could all that have happened be preparing him for more of the same?

  Lorna hurried to him and wrapped him in a hug. “Ouch,” he called out and she let go.

  “Sorry.”

  “How bad are you hurt? Can you ride tomorrow or do you want to rest for longer?” Fredrik asked after hearing him cry out.

  “Let's ride. It’s not that far and I know you want to get there. I’ll lie down and rest after we arrive.”

  “Morgan, what was that about? Have you grown daft?” Lorna chastised, concerned and a little angry, he thought. “Trying to ride a dragon. You could have been killed.” Fredrik shared her concerned look, but thankfully spared him any lecture.

  Morgan thought at that moment she sounded like his mother. Telling Lorna it was an accident wouldn’t change anything. It never had with his mother, anyway. They walked back to their camp and Morgan took the sword off his back and knelt on his blanket before letting himself collapse.

  “I will finish your watch,” Lorna said. “It is only a few hours until we break camp.”

  “Fredrik can make the final decision, but I don’t think we need to set a wat
ch. The dragon in the field over there is likely to keep any wolves or brigands away.”

  “You rest. Lorna and I will work it out. I sleep little anyway,” Fredrik said.

  “I’m used to staying up through the night myself,” Lorna replied and turned away, hiding a smirk.

  Morgan didn’t argue or try to think about what the day would bring. No sooner had he closed his eyes than sleep came, carrying him into the dark.

  Thirty-Four

  Alexis entered the gates of her city and rented a room right away. She would rest for the day, then leave after dark for the palace. Her uncle was the only one she could trust absolutely and he would be awake until late into the night. She would seek him out first and talk to him about her plans. Alexis planned on getting in and out of the kingdom without being noticed, and then she would search for Morgan—or for his body. She would let no one talk her out of being with him.

  He was a child of the Southlands and she assumed that is where and for whom he would fight. If she had her way, she would convince him to go far away from the battlefield. Maybe even take a ship and cross the Sea of Sorrows, where they could live in total anonymity. Before anything with Morgan, though, she had to deal with Milandro. He was a blight on her family and the court and needed to be dealt with permanently. Tonight, she would have her revenge and be free from him.

  Alexis ate her midday meal in her room and ordered hot water for a bath. She ate quickly and bathed slowly, staying in the water until it cooled and wrinkled her fingers and toes. Frowning at her dirty clothes lying across the chair, she decided to retrieve two sets of clothes from her room in the palace when the night’s work was complete. Fed, bathed and in a comfortable bed, she fell asleep thinking of better days to come.

  *****

  Theralin sat in a chair by the wall, reading reports from town officials and collectors and petitions from the people. Railia sat in her father’s desk reviewing the ledger of household expenses. After she read them, Theralin would go over the most important with Railia first, and eventually get to them all. She took it on herself to help Railia understand her priorities. Railia’s brother had been taught the economics of ruling the clan, for all the good it did. Railia was never meant to succeed her father and to educate her would have been considered by him a waste of time. Queen Verlainia had thought otherwise and no clan member was going to object. Theralin’s primary duty was to protect her until they could work out the loyalties of those around Railia. She thought Berhart was loyal to Railia, but needed more time to be sure. Railia treated Berhart with the respect of an elder and sometimes like an uncle. It made sense, as he’d been around her all her life.

  Turning over the petition she had just finished reading, she came upon a report. She almost passed it by because it seemed to just be the details of a hunting trip. Reading a little further, the words “white dragon” caught her eye, then a party of three riders. She stopped and read it slower—finished—and laid it down. The descriptions of the riders were not what she expected. One, described as Northerner wearing a great fur coat and headband, had to be Fredrik. According to a message delivered by bird, he was traveling with two elven guards, both of whom she knew.

  What Theralin read said nothing about her kinsmen, though. Fredrick was traveling with man and a woman and they were on the road between Frostbyte and the Black Mountains. If followed south, it would take a traveler to Talons Station in the Southlands and beyond. Picking the report back up, she reread the part about the white dragon and how it followed the riders.

  “Railia, may I interrupt you for a moment?” Theralin asked.

  “What is it?” Railia asked, distracted.

  “Read this and tell me what you think.” Theralin stood up, walked over and dropped the message on the desk in front of Railia.

  Railia read it once then looked up at Theralin, confused. She looked down and read it again. “Jarol’s father, Fredrik, and as for the rest I can’t say. Since when do dragons follow someone like a faithful hound?”

  “Any other thoughts?”

  “He was supposed to be with two of Verlainia’s guards. Two of your guards, right?”

  “Yes, according to the message from the queen.” Theralin had one thought that might answer two questions. “Railia, do you feel like taking time away from the manor to go for a ride?”

  “I could use a break. Where are we going?”

  “To find Jarol, his father and the mysterious riders. Jarol will either be with the main army by now or still at the border of the frontier and the Black Mountains trying to spring his trap.”

  “Do you think the dragon will still be with them? Is it going to fight for the north?”

  “I doubt it. Likely it is there for another reason.”

  “Theralin, my friend, what aren’t you telling me?”

  Theralin smiled at Railia. “I don’t think Queen Verlainia has found Morgan yet.”

  “Oh. So you think it’s him riding with Fredrik? If so, then who is the woman and why would a dragon follow them?”

  “The report isn’t very heavy on details, so I’ve no idea. Let’s gather our things and I will tell you my thoughts as we ride. Berhart can govern while you’re gone. I didn’t trust him at first, but I may have been wrong about him.”

  “Theralin, if it is Morgan, what are you planning on doing?”

  “I have to stop him from joining the Southlands army. I have to find out what happened to my guards. The queen will be furious. He has many things to answer for, Railia, and the queen wants him returned to her. You and I are in no position to go against her.”

  “I understand. It’s just, I think of him as a friend. So much has been forced on him. You were there just as I for all but his recent adventures.”

  “Though we had a stormy beginning, I will admit I grew fond of him. I don’t know why. Maybe for the same reason a dragon follows along behind him. A mystery.”

  “I don’t think it’s a mystery at all,” Railia said, smiling at Theralin. “Attraction is the word I would use.” Before Theralin could mount a defense, Railia continued. “This trip is your idea, so fetch Berhart and explain it to him while I pack. I’ll meet you in the courtyard.”

  *****

  Fredrik, Morgan and Lorna were challenged by a roving patrol before they were within eyesight of the camp. The dragon had departed earlier, flying to Dra’Extaral’s cave in the Black Mountains. When the soldiers realized who Fredrik was, one rode to notify the remaining check points and the camp. Fredrik smiled at Morgan. Handsome young men and dragons weren’t the only ones who could make people take notice.

  It would be a lie to say Fredrik wasn’t a little terrified that the great white dragon of Icefall had walked along behind them like a trained wolfhound. He found a measure of relief when the dragon departed, leaving them alone at the end of their journey. Had she remained, there would have been untold confusion and fear. Morgan’s presence was the opposite. He had livened up what would have been a long and boring ride. He chuckled to himself as he remembered Morgan’s flight on the back of the dragon, hanging on for dear life and yelling his head off the whole time. It was no wonder Queen Verlainia found him interesting; there was no guessing what would happen at any moment if you were around him.

  A rider came toward them at breakneck speed, then reined his poor horse unmercifully to get it to stop. He was there to escort them straight to Jarol’s command tent. The camp was huge and though the escort tried to set a fast pace, Fredrik insisted on otherwise. They would get there when he was ready and not before. After all, he outranked everyone in the camp except his son, and even then, he was Jarol’s father.

  They arrived at the command tent and their horses were taken away to be tended to. Two men in chains lay to the side of the tent flap. Both were unwashed, had glassy eyes, and smelled of vomit. Raile and his son Tarin—condemned men, it seemed—had seen better days and Fredrik was sure the day of the first battle would be their last. He started to take his companions into the tent, but
noticed Morgan had stopped to look at the shackled men.

  “Seems our fortunes have reversed, Tarin,” Morgan said, amused. “Try to meet death head on and make your sister proud. Pick the largest Southland soldier you can find and die facing him. You owe her for the way you’ve mistreated her in this life.” Tarin scowled and looked down. Morgan drew his sword and placed it under Tarin’s chin, raising his face back up. “From this moment on, I’m your shadow. If you turn to run, I’ll cut you in pieces.”

  Fredrik and Morgan then walked into the tent side by side, with Lorna and a guard behind them. Jarol stood in the back, leaning over a table studying a map covered in figurines.

  “Father,” Jarol said, hurrying over to him. His son wrapped him in a big hug and then stepped back. “I told you not to make the trip. It had to be hard on you. How are you feeling?”

  “Good, Son. I had good company for the later part of the ride.” Fredrik watched Jarol, who looked like he only then noticed Fredrik’s companions, but Fredrik knew it wasn’t true. There wasn’t anything Jarol would miss going on around him.

  “You... are in a heap of trouble,” Jarol said to Morgan. Fredrik was curious how this would play out.

  “She has to catch me first,” Morgan answered.

  “Always the simpleton. You are caught, Fool. You’re standing right in the middle of her army.”

  “After I escorted your father all the way here and protected him from a dragon ready to eat him alive, this is how you treat me?”

  Fredrik cleared his throat. His bushy eyebrows shot up to his receding hairline. “That is not exactly true,” he said, eyeballing Morgan.

  “I rode with you all the way from Kor’Tarnaeil, right? And there was a dragon that attacked us on the road, right? How do you know it wouldn’t have eaten you alive? It sure tried to eat me.” Morgan looked to be pleading with him.