The Toll

by Jeanette Lynn

  I knew exactly what he’d meant, battling my own ‘sense’ myself, ever since those runes started lighting up, magic suffusing me. Was this the price they paid to bond their body with magic? The toll they paid?

  “He comes close, close as he can fer ye,” he admitted, as if reluctant to impart that particular piece. “Dinna ye see the fight in it? Ornthren were no’ made ta mate.” His lips tightened. “We be made ta take.”

  Eyes staring into him, I had to believe it wasn’t all true. Troll had plenty of opportunities to ‘take’, and yet he hadn’t. If that was how it was for other Ornthren, then, well, my Troll was different.

  “Ornthren be survivors. What did ye expect, flowery words an’ a ring, peepots? Pfft. We dinna know the meanin’. He dinna like the pull,” he grumbled, running a long hand down his face, “but he well enough liked ye. Bek’s always been a broken bastard, though, the fiercest an’ hardest of us all, an’ look at him now? Felled by a carrot-haired wench that bites.” Shaking his head sadly, he snorted. “Had ta go it all along for a few, figure it all out on his own. Make his own way, clear the ‘combs of Under. Mmm. Fucked in the head long before ye.” Clucking his tongue on the back of his teeth, he mused, “An’ maybe ye’re just the last string ta be pulled before he’s unravelin’.”

  “I didn’t break him,” I snapped defensively.

  “Och, dinna be bitchin’. Ye’re still standin’ here, aintcha? Rather kill himself an’ be done wit’ it then stuck to a heartless bitch. Ye got heart enough,” he gave a disinterested sniff, as if maybe he’d said too much, “s’pose. Ye know, fer a whinin’ cow.”

  That was as close to a compliment as I thought I’d ever get from the foul-mouthed heathen, but my lips still pursed and my eyes turned beady, narrowing.

  “We dinna dabble in pretty words an’ petty shite. Ye need mush, find that diddlin’ pantywaist yer whore of a sister shacked up wit’, he’s full ‘o’ it. An’ piss, ta hear Bek tell it. Lots ‘o’ piss.”

  I went slack at that, shock coursing through me. But, as he glared down at me, completely at home with himself and his blunt hatred, I knew right then, he didn’t know.

  “Ketik!” Bo’s voice had gone guttural and low, as my face blanched. “You speak of survivors, look no further than there. She’s been through her own hell, and you’ll not mention that name in her presence, ever!” Suddenly, it was like there was a tornado in the room, whipping around us hard enough I had put my hands protectively over Calder’s head.

  “What?” Ketik muttered, something inscrutable entering those glinting purple eyes at the look on my face. Then, realization hit, his face blanched, and he paled.

  “Ah, so you do know, then.” Not all, obviously, I could guess, but he definitely knew something. My throat felt tight, too tight, but I fought to speak. Done breaking, where a comment like that would have had me torn up inside, crushed me to my soul and set me off, I felt myself thicken, his words only proving to stiffen my resolve. They were just that—words.

  Trystan would never hurt me again, and while the mention of his name would always make me feel sick, he doesn’t own me. This is my life, my thoughts, my feelings. I own me. He’ll never have any control over any part of any of me ever again.

  Ketik’s words, while harsh and crude, freed something that needed jarring loose.

  Contrition, something rarely seen on a troll face, fixed his. “I dinna know it was... I’m... me apologies.” Rubbing at his neck, deflating immediately, a small spark of blue lit his runes. “No one should- When I’d said take... I’d meant the-” The words sounded thick in his throat. “Take, dinna force, ye ken? Not right,” he finally got out.

  He’d meant take, like a pretty, a bauble—a claim. Troll had well and truly done that—claimed me—coercion/gruff persuasion, his weapon of choice. He’d never forced me. Despite the gruff exterior and the effects of the curse, were they really such horrible creatures? I didn’t think so.

  In an unforgiving world they did what they saw fit to survive. Laws were different for Other, their code more cut and dry, more exacting, like their nature, and didn’t it say it right there in the curse? Cross a troll, pay a toll. Cross him twice—pay a price.

  Knowing exactly what he meant, I nodded. “No, they shouldn’t.” No one should ever have to go through that.

  Silence filled the room, and would have indefinitely if I didn’t feel the need to speak.

  “Where is he?” I asked finally.

  “Safe,” Quaz spoke quietly, watching Calder sleep with a curious expression on his face.

  As my eyes strayed back to Bo, the air tense and rife with emotion, things left said and unsaid making it thick like smoke, my attention caught on the Wind Elemental’s wrist.

  “It stretched?” I asked curiously, eyeing the bracelet that was once small enough to fit Brevin’s thin, little hand interestedly.

  “Hmm? Oh.” Bo looked surprised he still had it on, lifting his hand this way and that. That is, until I caught the sheepish look that flit across his face.

  “And it didn’t break?” Walking over, I ran my fingertips curiously over the soft braided leather. Thin but sturdy, power hummed through it, low but potent.

  “Must’ve stretched with me.” He was rolling it around his wrist curiously now too. “Powerful little thing. Give you a jolt, does it not? Well, let’s see what it can do? Shall we? Actions speak louder than words.” Arms stretched out before him, he wiggled his fingers, closing his eyes. Hesitating a moment, his lips tipped up, left eye cracking open a smidgeon. “What do you think, should I grow as big as an Ogre? Or would an Ornthren be enough to test? A dragon, maybe? A gryphon, perhaps?”

  “There are Ogres?” I mumbled, a small catch to my voice. Would I ever get used to this odd, magical world? The Other? I wasn’t even about to contemplate a dragon, not yet, and I had no idea wha a gryphon was.

  “Only one way to find out,” Bo whispered. Sparks of gold and silver lit his skin, wind dancing around him caressingly.

  And that’s when it hit me. Actions speak louder than words.

  “Wait!” Throwing a hand out, I stopped him dead in his tracks. “How did Vidi affect the outcome?”

  “What now?” Ketik grumbled, an uncharacteristic subdued quality to his voice.

  If only he was like this more often, I lamented.

  “Who the bleedin hell be this Vidi?” the purple-eyed Ornthren demanded, deep, swirling gaze shifting warily between us as he leaned in.

  “Vidi, how did she affect it?” I persisted, ignoring Ketik’s grumblings, gripping Bo’s wrist.

  Frowning, Bo’s eyes popped open wide. “She blocked your bond.”

  “She blocked it?” I asked carefully. “Not Troll?”

  “He was lookin’ for ye after four days,” Ketik muttered, snorting, “kept pissin’ an’ moanin’ ‘bout it too. Damned babe, if ye ask me. Dragged our carcasses all over the bloody place ta track yer hide down when he realized ye’d left.”

  “Bo!” I fairly shrieked, shaking him as he stared off out the cave room entrance thoughtfully, the wheels turning away in his head.

  “Hmm?” He mumbled absently.

  “Her magic blocked it, you’re saying?”

  “Yes. She’s stronger than Magda had thought. I don’t even think she quite realized what she’d done.” Twirling the leather on his wrist as his gaze slid to the trinket, he hummed thoughtfully in his throat.

  “And what was that?”

  Startling out of his thoughts, his head lifted, our gazes clashing. “It wasn’t Magda protecting the Travellers, it was her.” As if to make his point, he shook his wrist. “I really don’t think she even had any idea. This proves it.”

  Her bracelet was blocking Troll, not Troll blocking me out.

  “I have to go,” I mumbled, taking off. Rushing back, I placed Calder in his crate, brushing a swift kiss across his forehead. Running back over to them, I demanded, “Didn’t you promise me an Ogre?”

  Unable to keep up, three sets of
eyes blinked down at me. Bo recovered first, followed by Ketik, who muttered a few choice, unflattering things about loopy women.

  “Well?” Foot tapping, I snapped my fingers.

  “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” A slow smile drew across Bo’s full lips and he bowed genially, a hint of admiration filling his soft grey eyes. “Don’t know what made me think you wouldn’t fit right in. My mistake, milady.” Bowing low, with a few muttered words and sparks of yellow, gold and brown, it happened fast. Within moments a huge, monster filled the room, head lifting towards the ceiling, bent so it didn’t hit as he straightened to his full, towering height. He was roughly double the size of two Ornthren.

  A tiny head covered in dark, sandy brown skin that looked rough as sand paper, with thick tufts of lime green hair and huge cream tusks jutting up from his fat, pink bottom lip, small, black beady eyes squinted in his squished looking face. It was his fat hands, wide and the size of my head, that held my gaze captive, though.

  If I wasn’t so muddle brained and distracted, I might have ooh-ed and awe-ed in his presence, a wondrous sight to behold.

  “Thanks, I’ll be needing this.” Taking his wrist without hesitation, I rolled the newly stretched leather off, wrestling it off his dinner plate sized hands. More a necklace than a bracelet now, I nodded, looping it around my neck. About to make a mad dash, ignoring the jolt as the necklace took effect, I turned on Quaz. “Watch Calder for a little bit. I’ll be back.”

  “What?” The crimson eyed Ornthren looked like I’d just tried to bludgeon him. “I dinna know nothin’ ‘bout wee ones! What do I do?” The panic in his voice would have had me laughing at any other time—big scary Ornthren afraid of a little troll baby? Hah—but I could feel time was running out, and I had everything to lose.

  “He’ll be fine, just don’t wake him, alright?”

  “An’ ye trust me wit’ him?” he blurted, thunderstruck.

  Snorting, I put on their thick, deep voice, grumbling gruffly, “Better yer fat grey arse than those two eejits.” Growling, I hooked a thumb at Ketik. “Tha’ bloatin’ buffalo aint good enough fer the scrap ‘o’ parchment his name be written on.”

  Quaz’s lips turned down and he scowled, grunting, which, for him, was answer enough. “Dinna sound like tha’.”

  “Oi!” Ketik snapped.

  Unaffected, I shrugged, thought better of brushing it all off, then reamed into him. “That’s what you get for calling me a sow, a whining cow, a wench, a bitch, and a whore, you ass! And, Bo?”

  Bo’s brows shot up as he melted back to his old self, and he canted his head to the side, eyeing me questioningly. Lips quirking as they jerked, fighting back a huge grin, he waited.

  “It’s Nugget, not Phedaenya. Daphedaenya died a long time ago, she just didn’t know it yet.”

  “If ye’re thinkin’ ta help him, wench, ye canna.” Ketik’s barked grumble had no real bite behind it, only sad resignation.

  He didn’t think I’d succeed. Not that he knew what I’d had in mind.

  Arching a brow at the surly Ornthren, his swirling purple eyes light as they filled with sadness. A small glimmer of hope, quickly dimmed, shone through before it left.

  “Oh?” My face streaked with determination, flashing with fight, electric as they brimmed bright with blue. “Watch me.”

  “I’ll watch the babe,” I heard Bo offer.

  “Like hell you will!” He’d done enough damage. No way was he going anywhere near my child. “He touches one hair on Calder’s head, you better eat him, Ketik, or I’ll feed Quaz your balls!”

  “I am perfectly capable of watching a child,” Wind huffed. “You all reached adulthood practically whole, yes? I couldn’t do anything once you matured, you wouldn’t let me, but I watched you plenty your first years.”

  “Weren’t ye the one who forgot Bek in the forest?” Quaz huffed.

  “Dinna count,” Ketik grumbled, and Bo smiled with a look that said, ‘See?!’—his face falling just as fast as Ketik finished. “We grow faster, less than half the time of a snivelin’ human halfwit. An’ Bek, if his arse was smart, took off, no’ left.”

  “I found him,” Wind muttered, glaring at the twin sets of pointed looks. Throwing his hands up in the air, he blustered, “It was one time!”

  “Just remember what I said!” I called sharply.

  “Why do I get threatened? I dinna want ta touch the bleedin’ squaller.” Ketik was pissy, huffing like a spoilt child.

  “Shut it, dumb arse, or ye might wake him,” Quaz hissed.

  “He dinna wake tha’ easily. Quit bein’ a woman. Shite, man. No wonder she offered me balls to ye. Need ‘em more than me.”

  “Oi, fuck ye.”

  “No, fuck ye.”

  “If he cries, can I hold him?”

  “NO!” Two Ornthren sized shouts, quickly muffled, had me shaking my head. They’d protect Calder, I was certain of it. They’d keep him safe.

  “Fine. I was only asking. No need to shout.” The petulance in Wind’s voice was mind boggling.

  These are the mighty, mystical creatures you hear terrifying tales about? I shook my head. Truth is much, much stranger than fiction.

  Snorting as I reached the jagged crevice leading South, I tuned them all out, their voice growing distant, echoing voices fading, the deeper I went. I’d heard enough anyways. I have somewhere to be.

  Four-chambered Refuge

  Noble intentions are all fine and dandy, until you reach the massive cell holding the bellowing wraith covered in dried blood and other various... erm, things, snarling and muttering to himself.

  I’d slipped the necklace from around my neck, following the sudden renewed connection, surging through me anew, to find my way.

  Eyes dead and lifeless, runes no longer lit or lighting up, Troll really wasn’t Troll anymore, but I refused to be dissuaded. He can be saved, and I can do it. I had to believe that. Had to.

  I don’t know how long I’d been standing outside the magic veil separating us, severing his thundering, pain filled bellows from those outside the hazy curtain watching him, but this couldn’t wait. The walls around him shook, rumbling their discontent along with him. About to step forward, I stopped.

  Quit stalling. Help him! My Other sense pushed me forward, urging me to soothe my bonded. A moment of indecision hit me. Could I?

  Damn it, I didn’t know, but I had to try.

  With a deep, fortifying breath, I sucked a lungful of air in, girded my loins and shot through.

  The roar my ears were met with was deafening, red dust raining down all around us, the room vibrating with his mad fury. He truly was a fearsome sight to behold as I took him in, trying to put the Troll I knew with this new demon before me.

  Long gashes, barely healing, marred his shoulders, arms spread wide, chained so he couldn’t maim himself. On his knees, crouched and ready, he tried to charge me, snarling and snapping his teeth, spewing words in a foreign tongue I didn’t know. Small gashes and bruises dusted his face as well, dried blood encircling his eyes.

  Swallowing hard, I crouched down too, not meeting his searing gaze for fear he take it as a challenge. I knew enough about wild creatures to grasp that much. Troll was definitely, for lack of a better word, wild.

  “I wished to see you,” I began tentatively, choking down the bile that filled my throat as the stench emanating from his corner wafted towards me.

  He was filthy, a layer of it coating him like a second skin. A long line of drool dripped past thin, stretched lips, cracked and dry. Snarling low, he flashed his wide, flat teeth at me menacingly.

  When I spoke, though, he froze, blinking for a moment before stilling completely, so I kept talking. “Calder misses you terribly.” Spotting a basin filled with water in the corner, I scanned the room, walking over to the torn up sheets that must have once covered the splintered wood, of which, at one point was possibly a smallish bed. “He misses his big, protective, grumpy Papa.”

  Rotted food lay
in a pile in the corner, upended trenchers and dented mugs, broken in half or warped, mixed in. There weren’t any maggots or bugs, convincing me this was all somewhat recent. His brothers had tried to care for him, I’d gleamed, but I highly doubted he let them do much.

  “I think I know why you stopped coming to visit, even if only to see him.” My hands stayed busy as I spoke, working steadily. “You didn’t trust yourself anymore, did you, around us? And you didn’t want to hurt us, either of us.” Ripping off a piece of sheet, tearing it into smaller, manageable pieces, I tossed them into the basin. “I don’t think you’re all gone, not yet, and I refuse to let you just roll over and accept defeat.” They landed with a splash as I kept up my one sided conversation, dragging all the rubbished pieces out into the long empty hall, using the trenchers to shovel the old food onto another piece of sheet, careful not to venture too close as he let off a few warning growls.

  He made himself very clear, no need for words—go away. No one was welcome. But I wouldn’t. No, I couldn’t.

  We’ve come this far, I’m not giving up now.

  “And, well,” my shoulders lifted in a small half shrug, “you know how stubborn I can be.” Once finished, I dragged the basin a little closer to Troll, but not too close. Low and behold, behind the large tub was a small bit of soap. Eyes brightening, I broke it into tiny little pieces, the thin bit left easy enough to crumble, dropping most of it into the cold water.

  Had someone else tried to bathe him at some point? My eyes dipped to him, straying down his length, then the tub. Taking in his sorry state, I couldn’t help my unsolicitous thoughts. If they did, it is safe to say they’d failed miserably.

  Dipping my hands in the basin, sleeves rolled up, the cooler air in the room tickling my bare thighs, I wrung out a cloth as I crouched back down, approaching him carefully.

  “Must be uncomfortable, caked with muck and dirt like that.” At least, I hoped most of it was dirt. Holding the cloth out for him to see, careful not to meet his eyes for too long, I implored, “Won’t you let me help you?”