Curse of the Troll

by Emma Hamm

“Ah. Home to the cursed bear, I assume?”

  The cailleach shivered in her grasp, then nodded. “The beast of Fuar Bheinn.”

  Interesting that the faeries were afraid of him. She hadn’t seen any reason for such a visceral reaction to the creature. The bear was certainly a problem. He was powerful and capable of doing much harm, considering there was a human mind inside such a beast. But that didn’t make him frightening. Only the soul inside the creature could be that terrifying.

  She stared at the ice stairs and sighed. That was going to take her a while to maneuver, and she hadn’t really expected to deal with climbing this early in the trek.

  Deirdre had been right. Fuar Bheinn created its own kind of cold that frosted the air and made her breath puff in front of her face.

  “Thanks for the help,” she muttered, then tossed the faeries onto the ground. “Now, off with you.”

  The bodach helped the cailleach up, dusting off her backside and making snide comments about faeries with fat heads. “We won’t help you again, you know,” he muttered.

  “I think you won’t have a choice if I need help again.”

  “Try us.”

  Elva turned around and placed a hand on her sword. “Try me, faerie.”

  He snarled. The little thing could probably bite, but he was so old, chances were he’d end up only gumming her. Elva didn’t have time to deal with ridiculous faeries who didn’t know a Tuatha de Danann when they saw one. They wouldn’t even be allowed into the courts if they tried to enter.

  When they were far enough away that she knew they couldn’t bother her anymore, Elva set her pack onto the ground. She flexed her shoulders to try to rid herself of the discomfort. It had been a long time since she’d traveled like this. Perhaps too long considering the stiffness in her back and neck.

  Rubbing the muscles, she reached into her pack and pulled out the straps for her boots. Small nails had been hammered through the leather. It wasn’t much, but it would help her grip onto the ice.

  A few moments later, she was ready to try this next piece of the journey. The castle looked faerie made, she mused as she picked up her pack again.

  The nails in her boots sank into the ice like claws. It was slow going; she had to make sure every step counted. But she wasn’t in any rush to get to the castle. Elva wasn’t particularly proud of her reluctance. This was going to get rid of her last debt, the last lingering thing that weighed heavy on her soul. She should be a lot happier to be doing this.

  Instead, dread made her stomach churn. She wasn’t going to like any part of this journey. Every step felt like she was going toward something that would change her life forever.

  And that was a foolish thought. It was just a man cursed as a bear, but that didn’t mean he was going to hurt her. He couldn’t. She was a faerie, and he was just a human man. If she wanted to tear his head from his body, she could.

  Step by step, she made her way toward the castle. It was a rather beautiful structure. The stained-glass windows looked like something out of a fairytale, the human kind of course, not the faerie ones.

  Elva looked up every now and then, pausing to adjust the straps on her shoulders and wondering why she wasn’t getting up the stairs faster. She started counting each step. Sometimes she stopped to count the steps ahead as well.

  It seemed as though for every ten steps up, she only traveled one.

  Gods, she hated cursed places like this. The bear wasn’t the only one under a spell then; it was the entire kingdom. She should have guessed that from the cold air. Something didn’t want her to make it to the castle.

  The bonds she’d promised to Scáthach tightened around her throat. She had to make it to the castle. She’d said that she would, which meant she had to.

  So she continued up and up. Her thighs started to burn. She grit her teeth against the discomfort and decided it was good to work the muscles of her body. Elva had trained an entire lifetime, it seemed, in that camp with Scáthach and the other warrior women. Now, she got to use that to her benefit.

  Finally, there was only one step left. She took it two at a time, counting until ten was over. When her foot reached the top of the stairwell leading into the castle, she let out a breath of relief. One more step down. Now, all she had to do was find the bear.

  A deep, rumbling voice interrupted her. Inhuman in its quality, it was equal part voice and growl as it burst through her thoughts. “So, you made it. Impressive.”

  She looked up, hands squeezing the straps at her shoulders so she didn’t draw her blade. The bear stood in front of her. His head was tilted to the side as he watched her, and his shoulders were hunched as though he was trying to make himself smaller.

  He needn’t try. No matter how curled into his body he drew himself, he’d always be something monstrous and terrifying in size.

  The brown hair covering his body appeared much less coarse this close up. It almost appeared soft, although she didn’t want the thought to linger too long. He wasn’t a creature she could find fascinating. He was an animal she needed to watch and make certain he wasn’t evil.

  Her grip made the leather at her shoulders creak. “Wasn’t that much of a struggle.”

  “Most find it to be.”

  He was watching her, as if he expected her to react somehow. What did he want? Her to run screaming from his visage? She wasn’t that kind of woman.

  Elva waited for him to say something more. Or stand aside so she could enter the castle. Instead, he stood in the doorway, staring at her.

  Say something, she wanted to shout at him. He couldn’t remain quiet the entire time, staring at her like some kind of fool. He had thoughts in his head. She could see them dancing behind those dark eyes. He had words since she’d already heard him. So why was he just… staring?

  Elva cleared her throat. “My name is Elva. Scáthach sent me—”

  “I know.”

  She started. Had he just interrupted her? “She sent me to—”

  “Yes, I’m aware.”

  An angry breath escaped her before she could suck it back into her lungs. “Then perhaps you can tell me why you sent for me?”

  “I didn’t send for you.” He shuffled his feet, the long claws scraping the ice.

  “You asked for someone who looks remarkably like me then.”

  “Perhaps.” The bear finally tore his gaze away from her. He looked down at her feet, then at his own before a ragged chuff escaped him. “Remarkable, indeed.”

  Was he looking at her boots? Surely he wasn’t one of those men who had a ridiculous fetish, and all of a sudden he’d be asking to smell her shoes. She’d already dealt with one of those at the palace, not the king of course, but a lesser known fae who had been known to sneak her slippers out of the room for “private time.”

  Disgusted at the thought, Elva looked down at her boots and blurted out, “My shoes?”

  “Well, yes. They are rather remarkable, don’t you think?”

  “Not at all.”

  He blinked a few times at the ground then looked up at her. “I know very few women who would have the wherewithal to affix nails to their shoes.”

  Heat rushed to her face. He was talking about the nails? She’d never been more embarrassed in her life and more thoroughly pleased she’d learned how to keep her mouth shut. “Ah.” Elva cleared her throat. “Right. The straps.”

  The bear’s eyes glittered with mirth. “The straps,” he agreed.

  Oh, god, she was going to melt the ice if her temperature went up any higher. She hadn’t been embarrassed around a man in… She couldn’t remember. Elva made it a point to always put her best foot forward with them. To be an intimidating woman who let no one through her barriers. Not even those who were closest to her. And here this man had already made her think about foot fetishes.

  “You asked me to come here,” she started again, hoping he’d let her get away with it this time. “Don’t try to distract me. You clearly asked specifically, and I would like to know why
.”

  If a bear could grin, he did. Then, he turned away from her and started walking down a hall made entirely of blue ice. “Come along, faerie. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying. I’m sure you’re tired after such a long journey.”

  She wasn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. Let him think she was a weak woman. It would make everything she might have to do that much easier. Elva followed him silently down the hall and marveled at the magical place he lived.

  She looked around at the beauty and tried not to be too impressed. It was difficult when magic had clearly carved the entire building with a hand that knew true beauty. The floor, walls, and ceiling were glass-like in their pristine smoothness. There was something effortless in the glamour.

  She suddenly was sad her feet had nails on them. Wherever she walked, this place would be marked. And it wasn’t a place meant to be marked by the likes of her.

  Maybe it wasn’t really ice. Elva reached out and trailed her fingers along the wall. They were slick with water when she pulled them away, just as suddenly freezing as the cold air frosted them.

  “I wouldn’t touch it too much,” the bear grumbled ahead of her.

  How had he seen her touch it? Raising a brow, she pulled her dignity around her as she tucked her hand back into its sleeve. “Why not?”

  “The castle has a way of healing itself. I wouldn’t want your finger getting stuck as it rebuilt the ice.” Was it humor she heard in his voice? Or was he simply being gruff?

  Elva didn’t know what to think of this creature as she padded behind him. Scáthach made it seem as though he were some cursed man, the kind who deserved what he got. Yet he didn’t seem like the kind of man who would provoke the direst of magics. He seemed…kind.

  The bear stopped in front of a door and held his paw out toward the carved ice. “This is yours.”

  She peered through the ice, seeing only colored shadows beyond. “You can see right through the walls.”

  “You needn’t worry. This isn’t a part of the castle I frequent often.”

  Why wouldn’t he want to be around her? He’d asked for her to be here, hadn’t he? She blew out a breath and turned full toward him. “You want to hide me away?”

  “If possible.”

  “Why ask me to come here then?” Not to mention it would force her to go against what she’d promised Scáthach. She had to be around him to figure out whether or not he was a good person or a threat to the warrior women.

  The bear shrugged. “I hope you enjoy your time here. I regret that it is as long as it must be. However, this place will provide for you.”

  “This place?” she repeated as he turned around. “Does anyone else live here?”

  The bear didn’t stop. Instead, he tossed words over his shoulder as he retreated. “No. It’s just me.”

  He rounded a corner and was then gone from her sight. She couldn’t even hear his nails clicking on the ice floors.

  What in the world had she gotten herself into? Elva hefted her pack over her shoulder more firmly and pushed the door open with her back. She was going to have to make more straps like this. The boots she wore now were good for travel, but they’d quickly blister her feet. Anything else, and she’d slip on the floors and likely not be able to get up again.

  She turned into the room and stopped. Shock nearly made her jaw drop open.

  Ice pillars created a masterpiece of a bed. Four posters anchored into the floor and ceiling. The frame of the bed was made of white ice, swirled with bubbles like a raging waterfall had frozen in place. Furs were piled high in the center and what looked like a mattress was beneath them.

  No fireplace. No candles. Nothing to heat up the room as the sun dipped below the horizon.

  In fact, there was nothing else in the room at all. Just the bed and ice walls.

  Perhaps that was the bear’s motive. He was going to freeze her to death. She’d wake up in the morning with her eyelashes frozen shut and the great beast gnawing on her leg.

  The mere idea made shivers dance down her spine. Or perhaps that was simply the cold finally getting to her. She hadn’t brought nearly enough warm clothes for this. But then again, Elva didn’t have that many warm clothes. She was from the warmest part of the faerie realm. Her own belongings were made for sun-drenched revelries.

  Sighing, she tossed her pack onto the ground beside the bed. The furs called out to her, but she wanted to explore a little more before she was tempted to let the warmth sink into her bones. There was something going on in this castle, and she needed to find out.

  Elva watched the ice walls for movement. Seeing nothing beyond, she tiptoed to the door and opened it slightly.

  “Wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The voice came from the other side of the ice. Even though she hadn’t seen anyone just a second ago, now, there was a smudge of darkness directly in front of her door.

  This wasn’t the bear, yet he’d said no one else inhabited the castle.

  Elva furrowed her brows. “And you are?”

  “Clurichaun.”

  The creature needed to say no more to make sure she stayed in her room. A clurichaun? Really? The bear kept poor company. First the bodach and cailleach, ancient buffoons who were simply a waste of time, and now this? She thought leprechauns were bad.

  Clurichaun were nothing more than the drunkard cousins of the gold-obsessed faeries. Instead of spending their time creating pots of gold, hunting down the shiniest objects they could find, the clurichaun spent every hour of the day drinking their lives away.

  Elva’s shoulders curved forward in defeat. “Why shouldn’t I leave the room?”

  “Nighttime is dangerous in the castle.”

  “The sun isn’t setting.” A sudden waft of cold air pushed through the door, and she realized the light had gone down. All of a sudden. But she’d most certainly seen the sun when she walked up the stairs, and it had still been high in the sky when she entered the castle. It wasn’t possible for it to be setting so soon.

  The clurichaun poked his head in the gap between the door. He was a short, squat fellow. A shock of red hair tufted into a mohawk at his crown, and his cheeks were ruddy with drink. He came up to about her waist, what she expected was rather tall for one of his species, and his legs were far shorter than his torso.

  “Sure, it isn’t,” he grumbled, squinting up at her. “This castle has a way of making its own weather, you see. I’d suggest you get under the covers.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “I’m just telling you what’s safest, miss.”

  She frowned at the small creature as he started away from her. Elva called out, “The master of this castle said no one else lived here.”

  The clurichaun froze. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  “I think he’d have a different opinion.”

  When the faerie turned around, she realized he was clutching three bottles of liquid in his arms. Wine? She hadn’t imbibed in any since her time in the faerie courts. Humans didn’t have an abundance of the rare stuff. Not these days.

  He watched her with narrowed eyes before he finally harrumphed. “What do you want?”

  She held out her hand.

  “No.”

  Elva wriggled her fingers.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Then I’ll just let the master know you’ve been raiding his storehouses. I’m sure the bear won’t mind at all that a strange faerie has been living in his cellars.” It was a shot in the dark. Most clurichaun didn’t want the people they stole from to know they were there. They could steal as long as the owner was completely unaware. Otherwise, they’d be run from the homes faster than they could pack up their things.

  The clurichaun stomped back to her cracked doorway and thrust a bottle of wine at her. “Fine. Take it. But this is a one-time deal, then we’re paid up.”

  “A single bottle of wine for a year of silence? You’ll have to do better than that.” She took the offered beverage, though.
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  He grumbled, counted on his fingers, then stuck out his tongue. “Fine. A couple a week?”

  “How many is a couple?”

  “Two.”

  “Three.”

  The clurichaun shook his head. “Two.”

  “Three, and that’s the final offer.”

  His lip curled in a snarl. “You drive a hard bargain, faerie woman.”

  “Don’t I know it.” She held out her hand for him to shake, holding it in the air for a few heartbeats before he reluctantly shook it. “You’ve found yourself a partner, clurichaun. Pleasure doing business.”

  “Wish I could say the same.” He waddled away from her, a bottle less in his arms, and she shut the door.

  Elva pressed her back against it and stared up at the ceiling. What was she doing here? Drinking bottles of wine, soon to be buried under warm furs, for what? Why had he summoned her here?

  She popped the cork and made her way to the bed. Her clothes remained on for the night. With the semi-transparent walls, the last thing she needed was the clurichaun getting any ideas. Or the bear.

  Shivering, she sipped from the wine bottle and watched the walls for any shadows moving by. What could a bear possibly want from a faerie?

  The question would plague her until she found an answer.

  6

  She was here. In the castle. With him.

  No woman in her right mind would have traveled that far to trap themselves in a castle with a bear. It wasn’t possible she was simply kind enough to…what? Blindly throw herself into his arms because he’d asked for it?

  Donnacha shook his head, pacing the halls outside his own bedroom. The huffing growls of his breath bounced off the ice.

  It wasn’t possible that she’d decided to help him out of her own free will or the goodness of her heart. Just look at the woman. She was strong, powerful, and the sword at her side had the marks of use. He’d seen her use it on that strawman. Beheaded.

  He might have grinned if it wouldn’t have looked like a snarl. The woman would use that sword on whoever stood in her way, he was certain of it. Who knew women like that were bred in the Seelie Courts? He’d thought only dwarven women had that kind of fire in their chests.