The Woodcutter (10 page)

The city was bustling. A full cart of hay rumbled down the narrow street, making its way to market. The Woodcutter fell in behind, allowing the ox to part the crowds and lead him to the center of the city. As the buildings opened up to the central square, the Woodcutter stepped aside to view the area.

He stopped.

Every booth was filled with spinning wheels and hay. Every merchant had pushed aside his regular wares to make room.

The Woodcutter walked between the towers of spindles as people eagerly toted away the machines. He walked past a doctor hawking, “An elixir! An elixir to mend your twisted bones!” and past large bales people used to fill their carts.

He would have expected such behavior in the Twelve Kingdoms, but not in the other world, not in the Kingdom of the Ordinary.

A water fountain was surrounded by a group of young ladies who gaped at something in the water and giggled.

The Woodcutter gently pushed his way to the front.

At the edge of the fountain sat a large frog.

The frog regarded the Woodcutter and the Woodcutter regarded the frog.

And then the frog croaked, “Give me a kiss and I will turn into a prince.”

But the Woodcutter would not be fooled.

A girl with a straw colored plait that hung down her back looked at the Woodcutter, “He says that, but no matter how many times I kiss him, he stays a frog.”

The frog gave the Woodcutter a wink.

The Woodcutter said to the girls as he turned to walk away, “The frog lies.”

The Woodcutter made his way directly towards the nearest village pub. There was at least one place in every town where information flowed freely, and in the Duchy of Plainness, it came beneath a wooden sign bearing a red fox.

The villagers were speaking loudly as he entered. One angrily spat, “Do you believe such madness…”

The Woodcutter walked past and settled himself at a table nearby.

A tavern keeper in a dirty gray smock came over and placed a meal and a drink before the Woodcutter. The Woodcutter placed two wooden coins upon the table. The tavern keeper eyed them warily, but deposited them in a purse around his waist. As the he moved to leave, the Woodcutter caught his sleeve. The tavern keeper glared at the Woodcutter, but did not walk away.

“I am a stranger to this land,” the Woodcutter said. “And I have seen some strange things today. Tell me, what causes the people here to buy spinning wheels and bales of hay?”

The tavern keeper remained silent.

The Woodcutter placed another coin upon the table.

The man scooped it up and then said, “Seems the Duke has gone mad. Swears he met a girl who could spin straw into gold. She ran off and now he says she’s been disguised by evil forces and he’ll marry whatever girl can spin gold out of a wheel. He’s calling them in by the dozens each day, just sitting them in front of him and asking them to spin. A whole lot of nonsense, if you ask me.”

The Woodcutter looked at him sharply, “I did not think such things happened around these parts.”

The tavern keeper grumbled angrily, “’Twas a strange winter. We had snow, but the snow was warm. Odd things started happening and just when the strangeness started to fade away, the snow would come back and the whole nonsense returned.”

“I spoke with a frog in the town fountain…”

The tavern keeper pointed at the Woodcutter, “This is what I’m talking about. Frogs that talk and mice that sing. If I wanted magic, I’d ’ve stayed in that infernal Kingdom. But a body wants some peace and quiet and finally finds a place without that fae racket and what happens? Talking frogs.”

The tavern keeper leaned his face in close to the Woodcutter’s. His breath reeked of stale beer, “If you ask me, it reminds me of when those pixies used to go running through the towns on midsummer’s eve. Everything is set to wrong here. Everything.”

The pixie in the Woodcutter’s coat pocket shuddered.

The tavern keeper took an empty plate from a side table, “But I say it’s shameful, those faerie folk are coming over here and bothering us when we want nothing to do with their kind. You’d think they were trying to turn us on to magic. But the iron in our soul shall keep us safe from them. You mark my word. Their magic doesn’t belong here and we shall not be made their slaves.”

The Woodcutter had lost his appetite. He pushed away the plate and stood, “Thank you for the information.” He threw the tavern keeper another coin. “I hope your days are magic free.”

The tavern keeper grunted at him and stalked back into the kitchen.

The Woodcutter entered the inn and was greeted by a slender woman with hair streaked with iron gray. He followed her into the great room and noticed a young girl playing with some bits of straw by the hearth. Her neck held her head at an odd angle and her legs twisted into clawed feet. Her red hair was the color of the flames.

“Poor duck,” her mother clucked as she saw the Woodcutter look at the child. “Pines away for the Duke. I keep telling her all she has to do is learn how to spin the straw into gold and he’ll see she is a beautiful princess, but she won’t listen to her mother. They never do.”

The woman continued on to the stairway.

The girl looked at the Woodcutter and the power of her gaze made him step back.

There was something too interesting about her face.

The pixie stirred as the blue blood of the girl called out. The fae always recognize a familiar.

But there was something horribly twisted about this glamour.

The girl turned back to the fire and the Woodcutter realized he had been holding his breath.

A blue blood in the inn. The glamour was not upon her mother and the Woodcutter wondered how it came to be.

Chapter 29

The Woodcutter opened his eyes and stared at the thatched ceiling above him. He rolled to his side. The pixie lay fast asleep upon a roughly hewn table by his bed. Its breathing was still shallow. It needed to get to the Wood.

The Woodcutter yearned to leave at once for the safety and comfort of his trees.

He sat up upon the edge of the mattress, his joints cracking and popping. He was exhausted, despite the full night’s rest. His fingers found their way to his beard, stroking his whiskers absentmindedly. He lifted the flap from his pack and pulled out his pipe.

The border between the worlds of magic and ordinary was marked where the magic ended. By default, if the magic continued, the land became the jurisdiction of the fae.

There were too many strange things going on in the Duchy. The magic was not natural. He could feel it. He knew that the iron in the land would eventually chase the magic away, but until then, it fell upon the duties of the position of Woodcutter to inform the Duke of the treaty. The Duke needed to know what was going on.

The Woodcutter tapped out his pipe resolutely and gently tucked the pixie into his vest, whispering a quiet promise that they would return to the old growth soon.

The room was full of people waiting for an audience with the Duke. The hall dripped with coats of arms and formal tapestries. Each person carried a spinning wheel and sat with a daughter of eligible age.

The Woodcutter settled himself beneath a tall window and leaned against the stone frame.

Outside the sky was covered in a sheet of clouds, casting the world in tones of gray.

Two large wooden doors swung open and a blustering man shouted as he and his daughter were forcibly pushed out, “She could spin gold at home! Give her a chance! She was only frightened!

The doors closed behind them with a boom.

The man hurled the spinning wheel he carried against the wall, dashing it to pieces. He grabbed his daughter violently by the arm, “Well, there you have it. You had your chance. Now you’ll be nothing but a goose girl till the end of your days.”

The girl wept as her father drug her out of the room.

A bony advisor dressed in green velvet came out of double doors carrying a long scroll in one hand and a plume darkened by ink in the other. His fringe of white hair stood up wildly. He did not look up as he read the next name from the list, “Maid Adamson and Escort.”

A plump, freckled girl and her mother picked up their drop-spindle and followed the advisor into the audience chamber.

They emerged shortly. The mother stroked her daughter’s shoulders, “Even if you could spin straw into gold, we wouldn’t waste such a gift on a mere duke. Why, we would have sent you to the King…”

Her voice trailed off as they walked away.

The Woodcutter watched as girl after girl stepped hopefully into the room, and each stepped out moments later, defeated.

Finally, the Woodcutter was the only one left.

The advisor stepped out, nose still in the scroll. “All eligible maidens…” He looked up and saw that only the Woodcutter remained.

“Oh,” said the advisor. He looked at his scroll. “I am afraid you are not on my list.”

The Woodcutter stood, “I believe I can be of assistance to the Duke.”

The advisor stuttered, “Well…you are not on the list…but you say you are able to help. Oh, my. Oh, my, my, my. This is out of order, but perhaps…” He looked at the Woodcutter, trying to size up his character. “My, my, my. I suppose we should see.”

He beckoned to the Woodcutter to follow.

A very sad man sat at an ornate desk in the center of the room. The Duke’s black curls only emphasized the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. The Duke looked up at the Woodcutter in confusion.

The advisor explained, “This man says that he can help locate the woman. I thought that perhaps, since all of the girls have left for the day, perhaps it would be best if you granted him an audience…”

The Duke nodded and waved away the advisor, who backed submissively out of the room.

The Woodcutter could feel the longing in the air, could smell the wildness that came when two souls meant for one another were parted.

He knew it was true love.

“I shall help you,” stated the Woodcutter.

“And what can you do to help me?” asked the Duke, discouragement coloring his voice.

“You would be surprised,” said the Woodcutter. He stepped closer to the table, “Tell me about your love and I shall help you find her.”

The Duke stood wearily, “Such promises… I am so tired of promises…”

He spread his hands towards the Woodcutter and said, “Her name is Maid Maleen. She was from the Thirteen Kingdoms, which I know was wrong, but when I first saw her in the village square I knew she was my true love.”

The Woodcutter asked, “But what of her disappearance?”

The Duke heaved a sigh as if his heart had been cleft in twain, “Her father, thinking I would not marry someone below my rank, swore to my advisors that she could spin gold out of straw.”

The Duke began pacing, his words coming faster, “My advisor, unbeknownst to me, shut her in a prison cell with a bale of straw and a spinning wheel. I do not know what he said to her, but come the morning, that bale had been replaced by gold coins. So my advisor kept her there another night. The next morning, the room was once more filled with golden coins. But when he tried to have her spin straw on the third night, she disappeared without a trace.”

Disappeared without a trace…

The words chilled the Woodcutter. Rapunzel, too, had been abducted and her appearance in the Woods came dangerously close to having deadly consequences. He had to get back to the Woods. Maid Maleen’s life might depend upon it.

The Duke leaned against the wall, his energy spent from recounting the events, “It was only after all this transpired that I learned of my advisor’s betrayal and greed.”

The Duke sat down in his chair and buried his face in his hands, “It is my fault and I must find her. I must find where she disappeared to. If anything happened to her…”

The Woodcutter pounded him bracingly upon the back, “Trouble no more maidens in your Duchy. I shall return her to you.”

The Duke nodded, but the Woodcutter could see that the Duke did not believe him.

Chapter 30

The Woodcutter stretched his feet towards the flames in the hearth. After their talk of Maid Maleen, he and the Duke had spoken at length about the magic that was appearing in the Duchy of Plainness. The Duke had made it clear that he did not care for the power of the fae, he only cared for the girl who had once wielded it.

The Woodcutter believed him

He hoped that finding Maid Maleen would chase the magic from the land and stop the snowfalls, much as Rapunzel’s union with her true love calmed the wildness and set the path straight. It was a strange thing, the warm snows…

If true love could not conquer the draw of the snows to the Duchy, if the magic still fell from the sky, the Duchy would join the Twelve Kingdoms. The King of Ordinary had been clear that magic was unwanted in his borders.