The Woodsman: Chapter Four

They made camp late at a spot where the river drew close to the road. The rivers through the Dark Forest ran fast, and the noise would conceal any attackers, but they needed to fill their waterskins and let the horse eat a patch of tall grass the dark elf said was safe.

He wondered if the ones chasing her had given up.

He stoked the fire, poking at the logs as they glowed with hot ash. Killers need proof. If they did not find a body, they would continue looking. He wasn’t willing to bet on the odds they gave up, especially since the Dark Forest is dark elven land.

She sat against a log across the fire, hands still tied behind her. Her face seemed lost and sullen. Her eyes met his, and she made the quiet plea with her brows that she meant him no harm. He continued stoking the fire, poking his stick between the red innards of a log almost broken in half from the fire.

“Sorry.”

The voice was hers. Weak, faint, she swallowed as if making the sound somehow took a lot out of her.

“So, you speak?”

She nodded. 

“Hard to.”

He crawled to that side of the fire and sat next to her.

“No need to raise your voice; I can come over. I am Tyler, woodsman, builder of ships, Queen’s Men. Do you have a name?”

“Ophelia.”

He nodded and glanced at her. “That is the name of humankind. I am surprised.”

She bit her lip. “Dark Elf name, sounds like that, Ophei-Ellia Kya-Lei.”

He smiled. “That is a pretty name. Ophelia Kya Leigh. Would you be honest if I asked if you were one of our attackers?”

She nodded.

“Not attack. Ran into you by accident. Sorry.”

He sighed a deep and painful sigh. Nine men dead because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was no ambush. They are just two groups of people who hate each other so much that the first thing they do when they meet is kill each other.

He stared at the fire in silence.

“They were chasing you. Why?”

She glanced down at her pendant, and her lips pursed.

“Church.”

His brows tightened. “You didn’t go to church? Is that why they were chasing you?”

She swallowed.

“No. I went to the wrong one.”

He groaned, almost like a bear, and sighed as thousands of years of intolerance weighed upon his soul. Humans were no strangers to religions blaming each other for the world’s misfortunes, and in years when the sword became the holy symbol and blood, the sacred offering stained his people with deep regret. Every flag of a human nation could not wash the stain of red from their past, and government and faith had become so tightly intertwined that one never knew when tithing ended and taxation began.

And he had his fill with the Queen’s tax inspectors.

The farther out in the woods he could work, the better.

“The Church of Darkness.”

She said the words as if she hated every syllable.

He nodded.

“They did something, right? Did they blame your church for something? I saw your pendant, Ophelia, and forgive me for prying. You belong to the Church of Magic.”

She nodded.

“We had to run. Hide. Go away.”

He closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I don’t pretend to know the ways of the dark elves, but given my kin’s history, it sounds way too familiar a tale for these tired ears. They outlawed your church, banned her teachings?”

She nodded and swallowed.

“High Priestess of the Church of Darkness, she became Queen.”

“Gods damn it.” He spat into the fire. “They were hunting you. I’m sorry. I thought you were one of them, trying to kill us.”

Her lips pursed, and he saw a tear reflect the light of the fire beside her nearly flat and beautifully curved nose.

“I am sorry your friends died.”

He wiped the tear away.

Her eyes met his. She nodded and shook her head.

He reached behind her and untied her hands. He leaned down and unbound her feet. She rubbed her sore wrists and smiled.

“If I am wrong about you, I am dead. But I can’t survive out here without you. I don’t know what else to do.”

He sighed.

“Milady, I am not bringing you to my kind as a prisoner. You have done nothing to my kind which would warrant me being that cruel.”

She nodded and smiled. “Thank you.”

“I can’t leave you, however. Too many things in this blasted forest which would kill us both, so I promise to nurse you back to strength, and when you think you can go- “

He paused, feeling a strange heaviness in his heart.

“You can go.”

He blinked and stared at his well-worn hands. He flexed them, fingers still stiff and sore from all the work. He swallowed and tried to stop thinking about her.

“I am sorry about all of this. Sorry, I even came here.”

He dared a look into her violet eyes. She smiled, and he was still unused to seeing a dark elf smile.

“If you did not come, I would be dead.”

He nodded and returned her beautiful smile the best his unkempt face could.

She nodded. “You are courageous.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Those spiders? Ugh. Gods. I did what I had to do. I suspect more are chasing us, and if they prey upon these roads, they know exactly where we are going. The road turns ahead, and the mother is probably cutting across to lay another trap for us. I give us a few days before we are her next possible meal.

Spiders are like that; they don’t think like us. To them, we are food. She let us go instead of killing us to keep us alive. We are still on her web; to her, it is only a matter of time.”

“You are smart. You know your spiders.”

He laughed. “Small ones, I know. In the North Woods where I grew up, there were spiders, smaller ones than this, who made their homes in logs and places sheltered from the wind. The bites would sting and swell, but they were not as poisonous as these nor as big. I grew up playing with them, watching how they feed on insects and kept their prey alive until it was time.”

The winds started to blow harder.

“It shall be time again. She knows.”

The trees rustled above them, and he gave them a quick scan. No spiders, just a gale.

“Storm blowing in from the coast. We had better bundle up tonight. Do you still not mind sleeping with me?”

She blinked and laughed softly, ending in a cough.

His cheeks flushed red. “I am sorry, Milady, I did not mean- “

She composed herself, drank water, and turned to him with that beautiful smile.

He laughed.

“You knew I didn’t mean that, did you?”

She nodded, keeping the smile that warmed his heart. She let it melt away and nodded.

“Thank you. Please keep me warm tonight, woodsman. I do not mind being close to you.”

He felt something, a mix of emotions and feelings. Pain mixed with apprehension, meeting a culture he knew nothing about and trying to understand. He cursed himself; he felt stupid and clumsy interacting with her, like every action he took was an insult, and every word he spoke stuck into her heart like a dagger laced with the poison of hate and intolerance.

I am just a woodsman. How do the gods expect me to know how to act around her?

I don’t know.

Please do not judge me.

He stared into the fire and raised his eyes to meet hers. She was staring at him, and her face seemed concerned. He gave her a slight nod and bit the edge of his mouth in regret.

She smiled. “Please smile. It makes me happy.”

He smiled at her and blinked away a tear from the edge of his eye. She should not be acting like this. She wants to be comfortable and happy like his parents did in their final days. He wondered if she was telling him the entire truth about her feeling better or if she somehow wanted him not to worry about her as the death magic slowly took her from this world.

He closed his eyes and said a prayer to his god.

She is nothing like us, North-Kin.

She is our sworn enemy.

But please, my god, do not let her die.

A tarp set up as a lean-to kept them mostly dry all night as the storm raged around them. He stayed up a little later than her, ensuring her freedom did not urge her to run away when weak. She fell asleep quickly, huddled against his warmth, and surprised him by rolling over to face him again.

By then, the storm was blowing fiercely, the trees above them bending at right angles and the sounds of the wind drowning out the darkness around them. She must not like the storm, so she did not wish to face it alone.

Before he drifted to sleep, he barely noticed her pull one of his arms around her as her other hand stroked the muscles on his chest, and her cheek nuzzled his broad shoulder.

Morning came, and he was alone.

A few logs were moved on the fire, but he did not see Ophelia.

His heart raced, and he looked around for her in a panic.

His breathing grew deep. Had she crawled off somewhere to die? Did she leave and get attacked by those spiders? Was she somewhere alone, wandering down the road with those other dark elves chasing her? He knew in her state she would not make it very far, so he-

Splashing from beside the river attracted his ear.

He turned to see her sitting on a rock in a calm eddy beside the river, using one of their tin cups to rinse her long white hair with purple streaks. Her long, pointed ears poked from the wet strands of hair, and she untangled them and brushed her hair with her fingers. Her clothes hung on a low branch beside the pool, drying. She must have crawled over there to wash.

And she wore not a thing, her dusk-blue back to him, buttocks pressed alluringly to the stone.

His face turned red, and he reminded himself that looking at a woman this way was not for him to do. But the rapid currents of the river were just inches from her feet, so he wanted to ensure she was safe. His modesty went away when he realized her true beauty.

She was an elf, her body perfect in every way, her skin and features exotic and alluring.

He had never seen a dark elf until the battle; they were rare enough that even their presence in the capital was kept hushed. They were undoubtedly never seen walking around or even on human lands.

And this was the first one he had ever seen in the nude.

And she was beautiful.

The dusk blue hue of her flesh made her look like the painting of an artist who used a blue crayon to texture the supple nature of her skin. Drops of water rolled down her body, down the curve of her spine, along her sides, and around a firm, round buttocks pressed against the smooth rock she sat upon. Her long white hair, streaked by purple, stuck to her back in its wet and matted state. Her long ears poked from her damp hair. Her waist seemed small, her features unmistakably elven, and she seemed perfect in so many ways to count.

Here he was, fighting for his life in the middle of the Dark Forest and thinking of women. He smiled at his foolishness. This is not the time or place to think about beauty, and she is not of my kind. To make feelings for her known is to doom his heart from the start and put upon her false notions that things between dark elf and human could ever get better.

She would never love him, nor could he pretend to be so foolish he could do the same for her. He cursed himself for being such a stupid, stupid man. To put such feelings on her would mean her death and imprisonment, making her hunted not only by her kind but also by his people. And he would become an outcast.

But that was a life he was used to in the deep woods.

He could take her to one of his deep woods cabins, far to the north, where the trees grew tall and the mountains stay ever capped with peaks of white. She could recover there, and they would not be found. She could find a place of safety and peace.

He closed his eyes and chased the thoughts from his mind.

No, it would never be.

He cleared his throat.

She smiled, an arm over her large – for an elf – breasts.

She smiled that infectious smile again. “Oh! Sorry. I was dirty. I needed to wash.”

He covered his eyes and nodded.

“I apologize for looking at you in a state of undress, Milady. You were missing, and I grew- “

He corrected his words.

“I wondered where you were. Again, I apologize.”

“Do not. I am still weak. But I have my dignity. We dark elves share with our high elf kin a desire for cleanliness. I was feeling slightly stronger, so I crawled over.”

He nodded, eyes still covered.

“You should let me help you, Milady.”

“We dark elves are a bit stubborn and proud. Still, I thank you for saving me. Why did you do it?”

He paused and swallowed.

“I don’t know. Something told me to. The gods. Your goddess, perhaps.”

She rinsed again with the cup.

“The Goddess of Magic, some may think she neutral and indifferent, cold to the world’s suffering. But she is not. She has a caring side. She knows the hurt caused by the powers she gives this world.”

He leaned against a tree, eyes still covered to protect her modesty.

“I wish I knew my god as well as you did yours.”

“I saw my high priestess,” she paused, “she communed with my goddess when she was alive. I was doing chores in the temple when I walked in on Goddess’ spirit discussing matters with her.”

He did not feel the need or want to pry on that conversation, so he kept quiet. He knew matters involving the gods often led to heartache and woe for mortals, and even hearing a story between a Goddess and a follower could somehow involve him in their dealings. These were the myths of legends, of mortals who met gods and were changed forever because of the encounter; their fates often tied into who they were as people. The vain and selfish become twisted into hideous monsters, the greedy become poor beggars forever in the back alleys, and the proud lose everything they loved and held in high regard.

She continued, “Apparently, she knew something was coming.”

He winced in pain behind the hand which shielded his eyes.

“And you can speak a little more too. That is a good sign. Are you up to eating?”

Best to change the subject quickly. She splashed in the river more, and he could hear her turn to get dressed.

“I am starving, thank you. And I feel strong enough to chew. Thank you, by the way, for feeding me, even though I could have killed you for that.”

He laughed.

“Birds do that for their young. It helped you enough- “

A loud splash stopped his words.

When he uncovered his eyes, she wasn’t there.

His heart raced as he ran to the river.

He spied her head and shoulder, bobbing down the swift white water of the rapids.