by Olivia Ash
My hope shatters.
I can’t possibly take them all on at once. It’ll mean another six months of healing, of shattered bones, of trudging their laundry to the river even as I gasp to breathe.
But I don’t care.
I won’t give up that easy.
Gnars has seen the conduit, which means they’re going to beat me regardless of what I do. I only used it because I thought I would escape this place, but now I realize that’s never going to happen.
If I want out, I have to fight my way free.
The other trolls inch toward me as Gnars calmly walks toward the horn, rubbing salt in the wound as he casually goes to claim what’s mine.
Briefly, I debate blowing the stupid thing to smithereens, but that would only fuel their hatred. They would kick me harder for destroying their ancient relic. No, as much as I want to destroy everything around me, I rein in my anger.
Mostly.
The nearest troll—Fek, the dumbass that he is—smirks, gently slapping his club against the palm of his hand as he scans my body for where he wants to hit me first. Three more flank him, each sizing me up, each ready to hurt the weak little human in their midst.
But none of them seem to notice the conduit in my hands. Trolls are evil, but at least most of them are fairly stupid.
I should have known better. I should have known they would never honor their promise. I should have known they would keep me here, forever, doing whatever it took to keep their frail little human slave.
Lesson learned.
The betrayal still stings. I can barely breathe. My magic bites at from me from within, desperate to break free, eager to destroy something.
Fek swings his club at my head, and I duck. Lost in my rage, I fire at his chest. It hits him hard, knocking him into the trolls standing behind him. Sizzling blasts of my magic dart in every direction as I fire randomly, knowing I’ll hit something because I’m entirely surrounded.
I mostly hit trees, but I manage to take down three of the trolls. They fall, groaning in pain as the others swarm me. Something hits me hard in the small of my back, and I fall to my knees in agony. I grimace, trying to bite back my scream of pain. Someone else grabs my hand, twisting it violently until the conduit falls to the ground.
But I’m not done.
I’m not going down without a fight.
I reach for the knife in my boot, the dull one they gave me to gut fish and tie off rope. My fingers brush the hilt as another troll knees me in the face, knocking me to the ground.
They pile on top of me as I struggle beneath them, trying to reach my conduit, trying desperately to wrestle my way out of their grip and blast them all to dust.
But I can’t.
Trolls don’t have magic, but they do have incredible strength—and I have six of them either grabbing my limbs or lying on my back.
I’m pinned.
Damn it.
“Grab it, Gnars!” Fek shouts as he slowly sits up, one hand on his chest as he nurses the smoking wound I gave him.
“Get it!” another troll chimes in.
Their voices clamor together as they rub my defeat in my face, forcing me to watch as Gnars puffs out his chest with pride. He smirks, arrogant and full of himself, like I didn’t just damn near own his ass only moments ago. He steps casually to the tree, reaches for the horn, wraps the item in his chubby, dingy hands, and brings the mouthpiece to his sorry excuse for lips.
Sucking in a deep breath, he blows. And the last of my strength leaves me.
The sound shudders the trees. More hoots and hollers come from the trolls around me. They chant in Gnars’s honor. Then they turn their unwavering attention to me.
Here it comes…
“You will never win, slave,” one says, and I absolutely don’t give a damn who it is. I don’t care anymore.
They laugh as they sling blends of insults at me from left and right. I tune it out. I’ve heard them all before, and none of it matters now.
They want to see me cry. They want to feel stronger than and superior to me. They need to prove to themselves—and to me, in some twisted way—that they are stronger than me. I’m beneath them. My place is to do their bidding and kiss their mud-covered feet. All because they say so.
But they’re wrong, and I don’t cry. I never cry. Not in front of them, and never in private.
Tears are weakness. One I can’t afford.
“You’re just inferior, human girl. Always have been, and always will be.” Gnars hooks the horn to his belt and gives it a proud little pat, like he’s daring me to do something about it. Say something about it. But I don’t.
He gives a nod, and his cronies slowly stand. They lift me to my feet, only to toss me to the ground. I land hard, but I don’t stay down long. I quickly jump to my feet and eye my conduit.
I need to grab it. To be done with this place and these trolls. My magic pools beneath my skin, and I let it gather so that I can take them all out once I reach my conduit.
Because I’m done with being pushed around.
Gnars nods to the conduit, barely four feet away. “Take that stick and break it. She can never have something like that again.”
My eyes widen. Now or never, then.
I dive for it, but Fek is closer. As my fingers brush along the crystals, he grabs it and elbows me hard in the face. I fall, my world spinning as the trolls pile on me again. They grab my arms, pinning me down. I growl, cuss, and buck against them. It’s mine. They can’t have it.
My magic churns within me, and even from this distance, the wand starts to glow with my power.
My heart flutters with hope.
Seemingly oblivious, Gnars grabs the conduit out of Fek’s hands and looks it over. “Ugly little thing. Just like you.”
He squeezes my wand in his hands, breaking it, reducing the crystals to glittering dust and the wood to little more than kindling. He tosses the remnants to the ground in front of my face, and the trolls pinning me down finally let go.
I sit up and look at the rubble in front of me as Gnars steps toward me. I don’t look at him. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the pain in my eyes, because what he did broke me.
No mage can perform magic without a conduit.
I’m so, so screwed.
Gnars kneels until his putrid face is level with mine. “You need to accept this, girl. You will never be one of us, and you will never have freedom. I’ll rule this place someday, and when I do, you will finally experience true hell.”
He laughs, and the rest join in as they leave, celebrating Gnars’s victory again.
Fucking cheater.
As they retreat into the trees, leaving me broken and battered on the dead leaves of the forest floor, I stare at the shattered remnants of my beautiful conduit. My last shred of hope. Tenderly, I scoop the fractured remains of the wand into my palms, my throat tightening in dread and horror as I stare into the lifeless crystals.
It’ll take years to make another one. To find the ingredients. To find a moment alone to perform the ritual. To create a bond strong and beautiful enough to cast my magic once again.
I’m… I’m screwed.
Looking at what is left of the conduit I made, I can practically feel my heart shredding to pieces. I can practically feel myself break
Still, I don’t allow a tear to fall.
Building the conduit was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. My father showed me how, when I was little, and it took ages to remember all the steps. In a way, it was the last thing I had to remember him by, and Gnars…
He will pay for this one way or another.
As if in response to my rising anger, my magic swirls within me, pooling in my hands, trying to come out, but it doesn’t. Because, it can’t.
All magic has to have a conduit.
All I can do is sit there and stare at the ground, the dust, the splinters of wood, and wait for my magic to calm. After a while, I collect the pieces and shards that I could salva
ge of the conduit and tuck them inside my pockets.
Standing, I dust myself off and look back in the direction of the troll village.
I don’t want to go back. I can’t. The moment I do, my punishment will begin. I attacked them, and I broke the first rule of my imprisonment—I’m forbidden to have a conduit.
They’re distracted now with the feast and celebration of Gnars’ victory, and that buys me some time.
I’m leaving. Maybe I can just take a nice long walk and never return. There has to be a limit to how far even the trolls will go before giving up on me. They despise humanity, live in secrecy, and won’t risk exposure of their existence for me. Especially with as often as they remind me that I’m nothing to them but a slave.
It’s a long shot. But I can at least attempt freedom. If not for just a little while.
Regardless of how I spin the possibilities or how little I matter to them, I have to face the facts. I’m still their property, and they will always find me.
Next time they find me, however, I’m determined to make them regret trying to bring me back.
Chapter Two
I belong somewhere.
I know it. Deep down.
Though it may not be with the trolls, there is some place for me. A place to belong.
The town nearby is full of humans. Ones who smile and say hello. Ones that don’t look down on me for being one of them. For being human. I look like them. Not like a troll. I’m the furthest thing from a troll as I could possibly get.
Strangely, I don’t think that my position among the trolls would be any different even if I did look like them. However you skin it, I’m still an outsider.
I make my way toward the sleepy town of Lakeview, Idaho, weaving my way through the trees on the downward sloping mountainside as the sun rises high overhead, inching its way toward the other side of the world. This town has become a welcome escape for me. I visit as often as I can.
And after today, I may never see it again.
Though the trolls usually keep me busy with burying their shit within the trees, discarding of rotting remains from animals they don’t finish eating, washing their rags called clothing, or serving as a form of entertainment, I still find time to make it here. It has been a while since I’ve been able to come. I usually have to sneak off to get time away. Much like this visit.
The trolls won’t look for me until tomorrow morning at the earliest. They’ll be too preoccupied with their celebration of Gnars’s victory to worry about me. Hell, maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll give up on finding me ever again.
Wishful thinking, but still.
I leave the shelter of the trees and make my way across the highway where the town sits nestled against a large, blue lake that mirrors the sky. The sun reflects off the water like a beacon, and at night, that’s my favorite. The moon and stars are painted along the clear waters as if a whole world rests within the water.
Absolutely beautiful.
Sometimes I would sneak off during the night just for that view alone. Hope and the knowledge that a better life is out there for me somewhere would brew in me. I would become resolved, encouraged in my faith there was something more in the world for me than living beneath the feet of the trolls.
I step off the road and into the trees bordering the streets of Lakeview. I find the walking path that leads into town and take my time, watching as the leaves in the canopy above me dance in the sunlight and the breeze gently blows around me. Warmth and the smell of earth surround me.
The soft twinkling of laughter echoes toward me. I smile and follow the sound. In my life of constant misery, to hear genuine, happy laughs is quite something to experience. I want to know more, and the sweet music leads me toward a pair of children playing in their yard set back from the main road.
The kids are playing tag while their mother sleeps on the porch of their small cabin-like home. It’s a peacefulness that I’m rarely graced with seeing. The girl can’t be more than six, and the boy no more than eight years old as they chase each other in circles a short distance from their front door.
The sight makes me nostalgic about my own childhood. I miss the time when I played in my yard, chasing fireflies while my dad held open a mason jar.
But that was another time altogether.
Now was the time that even small, quaint towns like this have nightmares.
The last time I was here, I saw notices from small towns surrounding the area reporting abductions of small children. There’s something in these woods—something that takes kids.
Nervously, I glance again at their mother. Her weary expression makes me wonder when she last slept, and her eyes keep fluttering open even as she drifts to sleep.
My magic courses through me, pulsating with warning. It detected something I missed.
There’s danger in these shadows
A pinch forms in my forehead as I process the sudden change in the tension in the air. With their mom sleeping in the chair, I don’t think there would be enough time to keep them safe if something were to happen.
Strange. Nothing seems off.
A nagging sensation to leave burns through me. I need to get out of here, to put as much distance between me and the trolls as possible. It’s my only hope of escaping them once and for all.
But my conscience won’t let me. If there really is danger here, I can’t let these kids be hurt.
I scan the shadows of the woods surrounding the home and nothing moves. Maybe it’s just me, but just to be safe, I remain in the shadows and watch the kids a little longer.
The mother stirs, and I think she’s about to wake. I take that as a sign and proceed on my way toward the main road.
I was probably worried about nothing.
As I leave, I cast one last wary look over my shoulders—only to catch a pair of glowing red eyes hovering in the shadows of the woods opposite where I was standing before. They’re so close to the ground, so dim that I couldn’t see them before, but at this angle I can’t miss them. They hover low to the ground, almost completely blending in with the colorful leaves collected on the ground at the base of the trees.
I’m on high alert and don’t know what I can do. I don’t have my conduit, so I can’t perform magic. But I can’t leave these kids to a fate I don’t care to imagine, because the creature in the woods stalking them would certainly lead the poor things to a grisly, nightmarish end.
I can’t let that happen.
With the life Gnars has laid out for me, I’m as good as dead. Even if I escape now, he’ll hunt me for the rest of my life. Without a conduit, I don’t stand much of a chance, so whatever happens to me is fine. But these kids have a long life ahead of them, and I’ll be damned if the light in their eyes is snuffed out before their time.
Taking a deep breath, I run my hands down the length of my sides and straighten my shoulders, preparing myself for what has to be done.
I casually step into the yard and calmly walk toward the playing children. The boy sees me first and stops laughing as he faces me, and his expression is a mix of questioning and curiosity. The girl follows suit, turning to face me as well, probably wondering why brother stopped playing.
I stop a few feet in front of them.
“Who are you?” the boy asks.
I smile at them, trying to make myself seem as friendly, warm, and casual as possible. “I was chasing a rabid dog,” I lie, winging it, “and with the playful sounds you two were making, I’m worried he’s headed this way.”
Their eyes widen as their mouths form wide “O” shapes.
“What should we do?” the girl asks.
“As calm and as quickly as you can, go inside, and please take your mom with you. Can you both be brave and do that, please?”
They nod, and the brother takes his sister’s hand as they walk toward the house and up the steps, and I make my way toward the creature that watches the kids walk away.
In my pockets, my palms are slick with sweat. The red eyes in
the darkness shift toward me and narrow.
I rack my brain for a plan. I still have the dagger in my boot, thankfully, but that’s not going to be much good if this is a magical being.
“You cost me a meal, wench,” the creature hisses. Its chilling voice sends a shiver up my spine, and it sounds like I imagine Death itself would sound if it came for me.
“Sorry,” I say with a shrug even as my heart thuds painfully in my chest.
The eyes slowly raise through the growing darkness as the creature lifts its head, growing staggeringly taller with every passing second. “Never fret, child. I shall eat you instead.”
Oh, joy. I’m a meal now.
I take a deep, calming breath as my magic pulses through me in warning. It wants me to run, but going into the field would mean those kids might see what was stalking them.
A sight like that, and so young—it would shatter them.
Careful to keep my distance, I step into the woods so that no one can see me take on this creature I’m not even sure I will be able to kill.
My dagger is crude at best, but it will have to work. I hope it will be enough.
As my eyes quickly adjust to the darkness in the forest, a beam of sunlight cutting through the canopy glints off silver scales a short distance away. The scales move through the shadows, slithering through the darkness as the coiled body of a massive snake comes into view.
A woman’s face appears between two branches, her red eyes narrowed on me as she hovers impossibly high in the air. As she nears, I wonder what I’m up against—a rogue mage, maybe, with a snake for a pet.
But, as she steps into the light, I realize the smooth skin on her naked torso slowly fades into the silver scales.
She is the snake.
This is a lamia.
Shit.
My father told me stories of the lamias when I was a little girl, and none of them end happily. These beasts eat children that stray too far from their parents.
Now, I’m about to become her dinner.
I should feel dread. Maybe even fear. But as I stare into the cruel monster’s glowing eyes, all I can feel is numbness.