Chapter 13 Morco
MORCO
I walked her to her cabin near the Gathering. My cabin was closer to the Elders, secluded and free of the noise of conversation. If hers was loud and kept her up late or woke her up early, she never complained.
The glow of the fire became brighter as we approached her front door. My mind was heavy with our conversation, stained with the memory of Hanne’s despair.
She opened the door then turned back to me, seeing the way I stopped on the threshold. “Do—do you want to come in?”
She said she’d never done this before, and neither had I. The first time I had been with a woman had been her first time too. Every interaction after that had been with an experienced partner. I didn’t know how to handle something so delicate when I was the opposite of delicate.
I nodded and followed her inside.
It was dark in the cabin, so I tossed a few logs on the rocks and lit the flames, bringing the room into a gentle glow. The corners were illuminated, and the light was golden and warm. She had a small table with two chairs, so I took a seat.
She sat across from me, her fair face lit by the fire, little shadows under her prominent cheekbones. An even smaller shadow was visible under her bottom lip. And her eyes…were indescribable.
I’d never seen a flame rival her fire. Never seen a woman challenge her beauty.
When she couldn’t take my stare any longer, she flicked her eyes away for a respite.
The moment she’d said she was mine, she’d condemned herself to my intensity, so I refused to restrain it.
Her eyes found mine again, gentle in sympathy and strong with courage. “I’m sorry…”
Some days were harder than others—but always hard, nonetheless. “I know.”
“When did that happen?”
“Fifteen years ago.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You must have been a boy.”
“Not a boy, but not yet a man.”
“How old?”
“Thirteen.”
Understanding flashed across her eyes. “That means you’re twenty-eight. I knew you were older, but I didn’t know by how much.”
I suspected she was younger than me, but I didn’t expect her to be so young that my age seemed surprising. “And you?”
“Twenty-two.”
“How old was your husband?”
There was a noticeable flinch in her eyes, a subtle repulsion at the mention of him. “In his fifties.”
Far too old to marry someone so young. “Do you accept my age?”
“It doesn’t bother me.” Her eyes didn’t show disappointment, and the surprise already passed.
She looked at me with that same softness, dropping every form of a mask that she possessed.
She was open with me, vulnerable and transparent, something I’d never seen her do in anyone else’s presence.
I loved her courage, but I also loved it when she didn’t need to be brave because she was with me. “Can—can I ask what happened?”
“I think it’s obvious what happened.”
“I mean…how and why.”
My mind hadn’t revisited that moment since it had happened. It was one of the reasons I hated to look upon my mother. Because I was forced to remember. Forced to relive it. Forced to acknowledge my part in it. “I will tell you someday—but not today.”
She accepted my resistance instead of trying to push through it. “Okay.”
A heavy silence passed between us, packed with a tension I’d never experienced with another person. It was so potent, it almost felt hostile, like we were enemies rather than…what I wanted to be.
She cleared her throat, like she felt it too.
“It’ll take time to make enough bows and arrows for everyone.
If we decide to travel to Stonework, we’ll fare far better with those weapons than without.
We’ve seen the consequences of close combat.
” She glanced down at my arm. “And I’ll return to the apricum to see what I can find. ”
None of the women had ever braved such missions. Not a single one had left the island since we’d come to inhabit it years ago. Caius was the one who had found it on a whim. It offered us natural protection with the surrounding water. “I would go in your stead if I could.”
She wore a sad smile. “I know.”
I watched the way her eyes changed with her emotions. I couldn’t help but wonder how she would look in the throes of passion underneath me, her nails deep into my back, riding that crescendo for the first time.
“When I came close to one of the Knives at the apricum…I was scared. They’re larger than any man I’ve ever seen in my life. I didn’t see his front, just his back, but…I understood its power. Do you know how many there are?”
My desire was blown out like a low-burning candle. “At least a thousand. Probably closer to fifteen hundred. But that number could be inaccurate because every interaction we’ve had with them has been quick and…traumatizing.”
Sadness shone in her eyes. “And how many are there of us?”
“Two hundred able-bodied fighters—and that’s including women.”
Her hope was snuffed out as quickly as my desire.
I didn’t judge her for questioning the odds, for choosing to spend what life she had left in the dark rather than fighting in the light.
But I didn’t have that option. “I know the battle will claim my life, but I have to fight it anyway.”
Her eyes gently shifted back and forth between mine, her blue gaze full of layered emotion. Then she pulled her knees to her chest and hooked her arms around her legs, petite enough to fit entirely on the chair. “I almost lost you once. I don’t want to do that again.”
“My mind is set.” I wouldn’t change it, even for her.
“I would never ask you to,” she said. “But we’ll need to prepare for this fight differently. Because bows and arrows and poison and the fighting advantage won’t be enough. We need more people.”
“There are none. And if we wait for our population to match the size of theirs, we’ll probably all be dead by then anyway. Famine. Sickness. An attack.”
“You said other things live down here…like goblins.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“We call them sciwards. Insect-like creatures with razor-sharp appendages.”
“How big are they?”
“Enormous. The equivalent of six grown men. They’re quick too. We avoid them at all costs. They live to the west, near the caves.”
She took a moment to digest that, like she could picture something she’d never seen. “Sounds like a praying mantis, only on a bigger scale.”
I didn’t know what that was but didn’t say so.
“Have you interacted with the goblins before?”
“They’re a rare encounter. We suspect they live in the walls of the chasm.”
“How many are there?”
“That’s unknown.”
“So, you’ve interacted with them, but you aren’t enemies?”
“It seems like they keep to themselves,” I said. “We don’t compete for resources.”
“Then that would mean they don’t need the light.”
“I suppose.”
“Have you conversed with them?”
I tilted my head, surprised that she was so interested in a creature that had ears like bat wings, yellow eyes, and leathery skin. “Explain your interest, Hanne.”
“I said you need more people, Morco.”
I cocked my eyebrow. “Goblins aren’t people.”
“We can’t be picky—not if we want to win.”
My instinct was to shut down the idea because it was ludicrous, but I didn’t because of the source of the suggestion.
Hanne had only delivered good ideas since she’d arrived here.
She’d earned my respect—and my consideration.
“I’ve never spoken with a goblin. The Elders may recall a conversation from the past. They don’t seem hostile to us, but that doesn’t mean they would be interested in our cause. ”
“We could make them interested. Perhaps there’s something we could offer them, something they want.”
“Since we already have nothing, I can’t imagine what that might be.”
“We won’t know until we ask,” she said. “Where are they?”
“The caves—where the sciwards are.”
Her face paled slightly, like she was more afraid of those than the Knives. “If they reside in such proximity to one another, then perhaps there’s some kind of alliance there. Or the goblins know how to repel them.”
“Or they just never leave the cave.”
“But you’ve seen them, so they must leave for a reason.”
“This all seems farfetched to me.”
“Just as farfetched as winning a battle against fifteen hundred monsters that are bigger and taller than all of us.” Her voice strengthened as she pressed her opinions, like she was as invested in this battle as I was, when she didn’t have the same vengeance in her heart.
I wanted to win this battle more than anything, so I was willing to consider her ideas. “I’ll speak to the Elders tomorrow. Their counsel could be helpful.”
“We need to explore all options. It’s possible that the goblins hate the Knives as much as we do. Let’s hope that’s the case.”
I’d carried the burden of leadership alone since my mother had lost her sight.
I became a man when I was still a boy. Life had been hard up until that moment, but it was never the same afterward.
For the first time, I shared that load with someone else, someone who offered immense contribution.
I’d never met such a woman, and that made me burn hotter.
Her passion had faded in the silence. “Does your father still live?”
Another story I’d rather not tell. “No.”
She read my look and let the subject dissolve in the air between us.
It was late and time to leave her cabin, but whenever I was with her, I didn’t want to go. With every conversation, I was more interested in her heart. And with every stare…I was more interested in her flesh too. “Tell me about the surface.”
Her eyes stilled as she absorbed the question. She seemed to pity me for asking it. “The sunlight is similar to the apricum, but it’s brighter and warm when it touches your skin. The sky is blue—”
“Like the color of your eyes?”