Curse of the Troll

by Emma Hamm

  The guards at the front certainly looked worried. Their eyes scanned the crowds for any movement that would threaten their royals. And that was definitely the Troll Queen who strode at the head of the procession with an arrogant grin on her face and without a care in the world.

  The buggane had said to look for the troll princess. Who would be the princess? She looked for someone that appeared similar to the queen, but no one was as skeletal as that creature.

  “Donnacha,” she whispered as she saw the horse.

  He sat on the creature, who clearly wanted to bolt at his earliest chance. The troll next to him was little more than a boulder with hair, but Elva was certain that was the princess. She was too confident in her movements to be anyone else.

  Donnacha looked worse for the wear. His hair was matted on his head, and the miserable look on his face was clearly exhaustion and something else. Something she didn’t want to put a name to because it looked very much like he’d given up.

  She squeezed between two very large trolls and nudged the hood of her cloak back just enough to flash her hair. No one else could see her, but she had to let him know she was here. The light returned to his eyes. He twisted in the saddle, searching for her with hope back in his gaze..

  That wouldn’t do. Not yet. Elva had to figure out her plan, and that started with the troll princess. She faded back into the crowd and slowly followed the procession until it turned back around and returned to the towering castle made of stone.

  She could start here. Elva had learned how to be patient. Thankfully, her mentor had instilled that in her. She waited for her moment, following the trolls silently as a wraith. She peered through windows, stepping lightly around the castle to assess every angle of her first attack.

  The trolls went back into the castle. They shoved Donnacha down some stairs that must have led to the dungeon, and then they all went to feast.

  She couldn’t go into the feast herself. They’d find her, and then everything would be over before it started. So Elva set herself at a window and pulled out an apple from her pack. It felt heavier than before, but she wasn’t in any position to go through what Angus had sent.

  Then, her opportunity arose. The troll princess stood from the drunken revelries and weaved her way through the crowd and out through a back door.

  Elva held the apple in her mouth, put the pack back on, and threw the cloak over her shoulders. Rushing around the castle, she stuck to the shadows until she found the troll princess using the bushes as a bathroom.

  Rolling her eyes, she leaned against the wall of the castle and made sure the hood covered her face. When the princess finished, Elva took a large, loud bite out of the apple.

  The troll princess froze, but didn’t drop into a protective stance as many other trolls would have done. Interesting. Did the creature not know how to fight?

  “Who goes there?” the princess asked, her voice wavering in fear.

  “No one.”

  The princess stamped her foot on the ground. “You aren’t no one! I can hear you.”

  Elva watched the confusion on the princess’s face and realized two things. First, this creature had little to no intelligence in her head. That was good. It meant she was easily manipulated. And second, the troll princess was little more than a spoiled child who grew angry when someone made her feel foolish.

  Elva took a step out of the shadows and took another bite of her apple. “Strange, cause I just said I’m no one.”

  “W—what do you want?”

  “I want to know about the dwarf you have captured. Where is he?”

  The troll princess crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not talking about my toy. You want it for yourself? Go find yourself another one.”

  A toy? What had Donnacha gotten himself into?

  Elva shrugged. “Suit yourself then. I’ll find out from someone else who wants a gift from me.”

  “A gift?” The troll princess stepped forward. “I like gifts.”

  “So do I. But my gift is only for the person who tells me why that dwarf is here.”

  “What’s it to you?”

  Elva shrugged again, biting into the apple a little more aggressively than before. “I’m curious, that’s all.”

  “What’s the gift then?”

  Really, she only had another apple to give the troll princess. The creature might be a little more intelligent than she gave her credit for if she was asking to know what the gift was. Elva stretched her arm back and reached underneath the cloak for the apple. She’d have to make up a story about how it was a magical apple or something…

  Wait a minute. Her fingers grazed an apple, but it was too smooth and cold. She palmed it, realizing the apple was heavier than the other as well. She furrowed her brows, grateful the troll princess couldn’t see her expressions, and pulled out the strange object.

  A golden apple, so pure and smooth it looked as though it had been plucked from the branches of a magical tree.

  It almost made Elva breathless in its beauty. Angus was a crafty dwarf after all, she mused.

  Holding up the exquisite piece, she let the light of the moon reflect on it. “A gift for the person who tells me why the dwarf is here and lets me have a few moments alone with him.”

  The troll princess watched the golden apple with greedy eyes. “I want it.”

  “You can have it, if you give me what I want.”

  “Mummy says no one else can know the dwarf is here.” The troll princess chewed on her lip and held out her hand. “But no one else has that.”

  “That’s because this apple is one of a kind. No one else in the Otherworld or the human realms has ever seen anything like it. It’s made of magic and so much power you can feel it when you’re holding it.” Elva turned it in her fingers. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “It is.”

  “Then do you want it?”

  The troll princess jumped once, making the ground shake. “I do!”

  “Why is the dwarf here?”

  “To marry me. Mummy said I could have any mate I wanted for my children, and I picked him. The dwarf said marriage was better than just a mate, so we’re going to have a wedding. I don’t like waiting, but he said it was better. Can I have it now?”

  Crafty. Donnacha had made himself enough time for her to get here. That was far more useful than experiencing whatever the mating process would be with this creature.

  Elva shook her head. “Not yet. I want to see the dwarf for myself. Can you do that?”

  “Mummy said no!”

  “Do you always do what your mother tells you to do? You’re the princess, aren’t you?”

  The troll princess took a few steps forward, hands reaching out and fingers curling in the air. “I want it.”

  “Then give me a few minutes with the dwarf. I’m not going to do anything. I just want to see this husband of yours for myself.”

  “Fine,” the troll princess snarled. “I’ll take you to him.”

  Elva tossed the golden apple to the troll and took another bite out of her own. “Lead the way.”

  17

  He should never have drank anything the Troll princess gave him, but Donnacha hadn’t really had that much of a choice, now had he? She’d practically run into the dungeons with her beady eyes wider than he thought they could go. She’d thrust water at him, insisting he drink it, and then poured it down his throat when he hadn’t wanted to.

  Donnacha only had a moment to taste the strange bitters before he felt his eyes roll back in his head. Damned trolls. They were always meddling, but he hadn’t thought they were capable of poison.

  The troll princess had caught him on the way down, stroked his hair, and then whispered in his ear, “I wish we had more time like this. I like you better when your mouth isn’t open.”

  Now, he was laid out haphazardly on his cot, wondering what the hell had just happened. He couldn’t even move his head or open his eyes, then the princess leaves? What was she planning?


  The cell door opened, and he wanted to tense up. He hated being this weak. Anyone could walk in here and do whatever they wanted, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He was stuck, frozen in this moment and panicking. Who was it?

  Light footsteps approached him. Light? That wasn’t the right sound for a troll. And there weren’t any other people here but trolls. They didn’t let anyone else in their castle. Which could only mean…

  “Donnacha,” a familiar, soft voice whispered.

  She’d found him. His warrior woman had really done it! She’d infiltrated the troll kingdom, made her way all the way east of the sun, west of the moon and somehow tricked the troll princess in allowing them a few moments together.

  Was there anything this woman couldn’t do?

  He desperately strained to move his head, to open his eyes so he could really see her, the most beautiful woman in the world as far as he was concerned. And not because of her looks, although he’d like to see something more than just trolls for the first time in weeks. But because of her beautiful strength, her attitude toward life, and her resolve to never let anything stop her. She was a remarkable woman, and he wanted to tell her that.

  “Donnacha?” she asked again, her voice growing worried. “Please tell me you’re not dead.”

  Don’t cry, he wanted to say. Please don’t cry when he wasn’t dead at all. She had to realize he was just asleep, that the troll princess was trying to trick her. They might be dumb creatures, but they could lie unlike the other faerie species who couldn’t.

  He felt a hand on his throat, fingers pressed against his rapid heartbeat. Panic had the organ inside his chest trying to beat its way out to her.

  “Ah,” Elva whispered. “All right then. Not dead, just drugged. I didn’t think the troll princess would stoop so low.”

  He knew the troll would. The woman was capable of much more than anyone gave her credit for. A princess was still a dangerous woman when she wanted to be.

  Elva leaned down and pressed her lips close to his ear. He felt the sweep of fabric against his cheekbone. Was she wearing a cloak? Something to conceal her form?

  “I’m going to get you out. I don’t know how yet, but it’s going to happen. I need you to be ready for that moment.”

  Oh, he was readier than she would ever know. He wanted out of this damned place.

  She touched her hand to the side of his face and breathed out a sigh. “I wish I could know if you were hearing me at all. If you can hear me, Donnacha, I’m not giving up just yet. Even a dungeon can’t keep me away from you. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  Couldn’t keep her away from him? What did that mean? It wasn’t possible she felt the strange connection between them as he did. There was so much between them that he couldn’t breathe sometimes, but was it possible that both of them felt…?

  He swept the thought from his mind. He refused to even consider the strange emotions. It wasn’t worth the wasted effort when he couldn’t even look at her right now.

  Heavy footsteps approached the dungeon, and he heard Elva suck in a deep breath. “I have to go. I’ll be back. Be ready.”

  Oh, he would be ready. He could face a den of lions now that he knew for certain she was here. She was going to get him out, and he would return to the waking world with a renewed sense of vigor.

  He could survive this as long as she was beside him.

  Donnacha listened to her leave the cell, gently close the gates behind her, and then the fading sound of her sneaking away. No one else would have heard those footsteps. Elva was impossible to hear when she didn’t want to be heard.

  Except by him. He knew the sound of her sneaking. He’d heard it in the castle for so many months now. He knew how to find her when she didn’t want to be found.

  Then other footsteps rang through the dungeon. Footsteps he also recognized and hated more than any other.

  The Troll Queen approached.

  Donnacha’s chest seized. This was the worst person to be alone with. She’d want to kill him, or maim him, or give him to her daughter while he couldn’t do anything.

  He’d never thought to know what Elva had endured firsthand. The helplessness of immobility. The fear of what another person would do to him while he was still awake. The drug wasn’t even beginning to wear off. He still couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything other than wheeze in a breath that was a hair deeper than the other.

  The Troll Queen leaned down at his side, her claws dragging down the length of his arm. “Oh, my dear dwarf, this is how I like to see you.”

  When he didn’t respond, she laughed. He hated her all the more in that moment, a burning contempt that made his chest ache and his head hurt. He wanted to destroy her. He wanted to run a blade between her ribs and feel her blood pour out over his hands. How dare she? How dare she laugh in this moment when he was incapacitated?

  The Troll Queen touched his face with her claw. “I want you to know that I saw her. It’s not hard to see when someone new is in this kingdom. I know every troll and every rock they are made out of.”

  She knew Elva was here? Did that mean she was going to attack her?

  He wanted to shout for Elva to run. It didn’t matter that he needed saving. The Troll Queen would never let him go, and he couldn’t bear be the reason she could be caught as well.

  Their plan was ruined. She should run before things got even messier.

  A long fingernail touched his lip. “I’m going to let her run around my kingdom, and we’ll see what she does. I’m curious what this little faerie thinks she can accomplish. I don’t know where she is or where she’s staying but…this will be fun. I can’t wait to see your face when I kill her.”

  Donnacha wanted to scream that he’d like to see her try, but he couldn’t. Instead, all he could do was lay there as his cell door closed again.

  Screaming only in his mind.

  ----

  Elva returned to the hill where the buggane had first dropped her off. Her breath came in sharp gasps. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do next. He was in a dungeon, barely even alive, and there was nothing more she could do. The trolls had him well and truly. She couldn’t walk him out of that cell with so many eyes watching him.

  The bushes beyond the hill rustled, and beady red eyes stared out at her. “Well? Did you do it?” the buggane asked as it clambered toward her.

  “Do what?” Elva shook her head. “I thought you said you were going home.”

  “I did. I went home, and now I’m back.”

  The lumbering bulk of the buggane looked very much like the trolls. Elva could understand how some people might mistake them. But now she knew there was a kindness in the buggane’s eyes that wasn’t in the vacant expression of the trolls. This creature wanted to help others. She wanted to see stories come to life and live through the happiness of others.

  The buggane was trustworthy, where the trolls wouldn’t know the meaning of the word.

  Elva sat down on the hill, drawing the cloak tighter around her shoulders against the chilly night air. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

  “You could have tossed him over your shoulder and ran?” the buggane suggested, settling down on the ground next to her. “Or maybe you could have gone in with your sword raised, ready to take the heads of all who tried to stop you.”

  “That only happens in stories. In real life, people who do that don’t live longer than a few seconds.”

  The furred faerie harrumphed. “Well, that makes things a lot more difficult.”

  Yes, it did. Elva had seen what was within the fortress walls, and it wasn’t good. They had Donnacha under constant guard. And if he was always drugged like that, then he wouldn’t be able to help her get him out. Which meant she was going to have to figure this out on her own.

  Or maybe not. She looked up at the buggane with a calculating look. “How did you know he was in the dungeon?”

  The creature shifted awkwardly, scooting a little further a
way from her. “I just did.”

  “You were watching me, weren’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, did you see anything useful then?”

  The buggane shrugged. “I saw a few things.”

  Elva rolled her eyes, then shivered as a gust of wind pushed through the cloak. “All right. Out with it then. I’m welcome to any suggestions, cause I’ll be honest, I’m not seeing much here.”

  “Come here.” The buggane held out her arms. “You’re cold and I’m not. We’ll scheme together while you catch your breath. It’s always cold in the troll kingdom.”

  She didn’t want to get any closer to that wet dog smell, but she was very cold. Elva ground her teeth together and snuggled into the fur of the buggane. It was a small price to pay for the warmth that immediately surrounded her.

  “Out with it now,” Elva said.

  “I might have been wandering among the trolls, finding out what I could find out.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought you might need a little help. The faerie princesses in all the stories had some kind of sidekick.”

  And the buggane thought she was going to be that sidekick. As much as Elva hated the idea of being in some kind of story, she’d admit it was very helpful to have someone else around.

  She nodded. “Well, thank you then. If you have an idea, I’m fresh out of them, so I’d certainly be interested in hearing what you have to say.”

  “Word in the kingdom is that the trolls are having a ball.”

  “A ball?” Elva lifted a brow and craned her neck to look up at the buggane. “Why?”

  “Apparently, the dwarf has gotten into the heads of the royals. They have decided that only a royal wedding would have a ball extravagant enough to make the Seelie Court jealous. They want to have a dance with gowns and all the trappings of normal wedding celebrations.”

  “Goodness.” Elva couldn’t imagine what that was going to look like. Trolls in ballgowns? What was the world coming to?’

  “That’s about what I said, and what the rest of the kingdom is likely saying. Trolls are as likely to enjoy something like that as a buggane.” The creature shuddered. “It’s a disgusting practice. I don’t know how you Seelie faeries do it.”