The Lonely Troll

by Harpie Alexander

  Words she’d heard over and over again, ate her from the inside out like a demon. She squeezed her eyes shut at such an accusation, not wanting to stoop to the same level as the man who used to be such a loving and doting husband and father.

  No! Don’t say that, you’re a survivor.

  A loud snap of something breaking in half gave her just the right amount of room to jiggle her ankle out, but the momentum sent her forward where she planted face-first into a puddle of thick mud.

  Filthy wet mud caked her face and upper body. It was everywhere. She scraped away the slop on her eyes with the back of her hand before clearing the rest of her face. A frustrated puff of air rushed between her lips before she got to her feet, only to slip down a second time.

  “Anything else you want to throw at me?” Delilah yelled in frustration. She froze, remembering that creatures lurked in the shadows.

  Pushing herself off the ground a second time, she tried moving at a steadier pace.

  One day at a time. You’ll get through this.

  No you won’t, you are weak just like your father said you were.

  Stop! Just stop.

  You’re a murderer too.

  It was an accident!

  Twigs fell from a tree to her side.

  Delilah’s eyes grew wide, but relaxed a moment later when a raccoon darted out and ran past her. To say she was on edge was an understatement.

  Her fingers bunched into her skirts as she twisted them around the fabric, worrying her lip between her teeth. A stiff breeze curled around her causing a shiver to race up her spine.

  Was it that thing from before?

  Delilah kept worrying it would catch up to her and murder her in the same fashion as the junior councilmen. It was more than obvious she wasn’t safe out here, but there was nothing she could do until she could find her way back to the main road.

  As she continued onward all the stories of men and women getting pillaged and murdered between the borders of towns came crashing in. While she had believed them as a child, as she grew older and not a single case rang true, she stopped believing in them. Clearly, she was wrong. She needed to find shelter. Quickly, quietly and avoiding detection at all costs.

  It’s been hours. Whatever it was would’ve caught up to me by now if it was going to eat me too. Right?

  Eventually, something jutting between two tall trees caught her attention. It was a sign of sorts, but nothing she could understand except for a small arrow wedged between several jagged symbols. From the looks of it, she speculated that the arrow was pointing past the trees, but unfortunately, there was nothing else that indicated where or what it led to.

  Intrigued, she stepped past the decrepit sign only to be blasted by a series of interlacing vines similar to a lattice. The ivy hung diagonally, and the further she went in, the thicker it got.

  Eventually, Delilah had to duck beneath each piece while lifting others out of her way. She considered going back, but an adventurous side of her kicked in. The need to know exactly what that sign meant and where it led consumed her, more than her need for shelter, more than her need for food, and definitely more than her desire to find the main road.

  Chapter Five

  Skarde

  Decay. Rot. Blight. They were the only words he could think of that accurately described the dreadful place the human female sought refuge. Upon first glance, Skarde knew there was no refuge in such a place. It was like an encased tomb, cursed for all eternity, hidden away behind the curtain of ivy that grew between infected trees. The land was nothing but old, brown and dead. No growth or wild animals. No sound, but the silence behind his quiet breathing. That and the female who hid in one of the decrepit buildings that managed to stand the test of time. Most of the structures appeared to have crumbled and decayed generations ago, except for one marbled altar erected in the center of the ancient ruins. It appeared as if nothing, not even time had touched it. It was not only eerie, but it made him straighten his spine.

  I do not like it here.

  Skarde couldn’t understand how the female stumbled upon the place. He’d lived on the mountain nearly all his life and had never come across it before. It made him wonder if there were other ancient ruins strewn about in his domain he had no knowledge of. His face pulled into a taut grimace.

  He really hoped not.

  Taking the final step, albeit hesitantly, onto the cursed earth, he strode forward with ever-vigilant eyes seeking his prey. In all honesty, he felt conflicted. He truly didn’t want to kill her, not like he had with the males, especially not after what he’d witnessed. For some unknown reason it ate at him. It was all he could think about when he followed her here, and it was all he could think about now.

  To a troll, all humans were wretched and selfish beings. Their sex didn’t matter, at least not in the teachings his sire had provided. The law was final, and unfortunate as it was, he already broke his sacred vows to his kind when, in his blind rage, one of the males had laid eyes on him.

  Skarde muttered beneath his breath, angry over his miscalculations. Would praying to King Erike for forgiveness help him at this point? He could only hope that the painful deaths of the human males were enough to satiate the king because there was no way he could mistreat the female in such a fashion, human or not. However, their deaths certainly weren’t enough for Skarde. The bloodlust clawed him from the inside out. His anger was untempered and flared like the beasts of old. Defiling a female was the worst of crimes. No matter how often he tried, he couldn’t get the filthy images out of his mind. He didn’t think killing the entire human race would ever simmer the anger he felt for the wretched humans. Ever.

  It is no wonder that King Erike banned their prying eyes and their minds from knowledge of our existence.

  With great effort, he pushed down his rage. Never in his life did he have to kill another sentient being. While he wished he could say he didn’t enjoy it, it would have been a lie. However, it wasn’t the act of murder itself that he enjoyed, but the justice of ridding the world of a despicable disease.

  Trolls were taught from a young age that humans and the other beings that walked the earth were unworthy, dishonorable and lazy. They took with their hands what they were not owed, spied and would lie through their teeth to get their greedy way. The Great War that King Erike ended several thousands of years ago didn’t happen for no reason at all.

  Kings, queens and noblemen of all races of old, gifted their sons and daughters in binding mating agreements as a way to join their lines and keep the peace. However, human men grew jealous and revolted against their rulers. In their greed, humans pillaged their own, then came for the brides, tore them from their mates and their younglings. They raped and murdered. They were destructive and the war went on for centuries until King Erike–with his keen mind and brute strength–ended the war.

  He wasn’t sure where the other beings that walked the earth fit into the story, or if they were just myths. Never had he once sighted an orc, elf or the others he was once told about as a youngling. Either way, the lore of The Great War not only disgusted Skarde, but it kept the rules of his kind close to his heart.

  Had I only kept to the rules back then, too.

  Skarde grunted his discontent and got back to work tracking the female. Even with the static scent of death in the air, he couldn’t mistake her scent for anything else. It was strong like a brew and it offended his nose. He wasn’t sure if that was her scent or the males that clung to her body. He stepped over the collapsed entryway of the structure she hid in. The rotted wood groaned beneath his feet.

  “It’s just me here. It’s just the sound of the weather. It’s nothing,” the female said, attempting to reassure herself.

  He felt an inch of pity for her. Anything else, he pushed down; he had a job to do, an oath to uphold. Like all that came before him, on his thirteenth year before the first stages of becoming an adult, Skarde swore an oath before his tribe to uphold the sacred laws of his people. It meant without
a doubt he had to kill the human. There was no way she hadn’t noticed something was amiss when he rescued her from being defiled. Perhaps if she had not traveled with the other males, who trespassed on his land and had not been exposed, he may have let her on her way. But all humans were vile, greedy and selfish. Female, innocent or not, it was in their blood.

  While he spared her of torture, under no circumstances could he spare her of death. She was an unknown, and Skarde could not willingly break his vow to spare her life, lest putting his kind at risk. However, something deep inside him claimed that murdering such an innocent, inferior being for no reason other than to keep a secret or appease a dead god was wrong. Very wrong.

  She cannot know of my existence, it is forbidden. I took the oath. Her life belongs to King Erike now.

  Bracing the fragile wall to keep as much weight off of the floor as possible, he inched closer, step by agonizingly slow step. She was hidden somewhere in here, that he was sure. While he couldn’t yet see her, he could hear her muttering nonsensical things to herself.

  “Coming here was a mistake.”

  He stepped forward, unsheathing a small bone dagger.

  “I can’t ever go back.”

  Another step, he rounded a corner quietly as ever and poised his arm up ready to strike the female down.

  “I no longer have a home.”

  He paused. Everything inside him stilled as the words she spoke crushed his heart. No longer have a home? It was something Skarde related to wholeheartedly. The mountain was his, but was it truly his home? Not really. His home was long gone too, when his tribe packed everything up and relocated. It was then on their journey, while they stopped for rest, that he made the biggest mistake of his life.

  He had gone out early in the morning to catch a rabbit and show his sire that he’d been paying attention in his hunting lessons. A noise had distracted him, and he was pulled from his tribe’s temporary camp as he tracked the source of the sound. To this day, Skarde could feel the surprise and excitement he felt when he spotted the humans in flesh and blood. It had made his sire’s teachings even more realistic in his mind. To see a real human? And up close? It was enthralling.

  They, too, had appeared to be travelling somewhere, and out of his curiosity, he followed them. All he wanted to do was discover where they were headed. At the time, he thought his sire surely would have been proud when Skarde would return to report his findings. It was an easy, self-appointed mission, one he certainly should have been able to complete.

  Besides, at the time they didn’t appear to be vile and dangerous, but perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps their wicked ways were hidden beneath the surface. Either way, Skarde was oblivious to the danger he put himself in. He followed them for so long….

  A scream pierced his ears.

  Skarde shook his head, ridding his mind of the memory that only caused him pain and shame.

  There was a jumble of movement sounding like a struggle past the tight corridor and around the corner. He was almost there, but something was wrong.

  “Why does it hurt so bad?” the female screamed again.

  Disregarding all forms of subtlety, Skarde rushed forward. The first step he took caused the wood to crack and his foot fell through the floor. Luckily, the earth was only a hands length beneath the wood. He continued. Each step he took was the same. Old wood splitting beneath his weight until it collapsed beneath his foot. He muttered a few choice words beneath his breath about the cursed land.

  Finally, he rounded the corner and for the first time, he was able to fully lay his eyes on her. She was on the ground, writhing in pain. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her mouth was wide open as if to scream again, but the words refused to come out. Twitches and spasms continued to shake her.

  “Female, what is wrong with you?”

  Something slid past his leg.

  One glance down and he knew exactly what had happened. A venomous snake was trying to make its way down into the hole his foot had made. While the name of the species eluded him, he recognized the slender yellow body with dark bands on its back immediately. He had been bitten by one as a youngling. The pain was intolerable, and he had been certain death was imminent, but he survived.

  “Perhaps you would have made a fine meal,” he mentioned while unsheathing his bone dagger, and quickly sliced across the slithering creature’s neck. “But I regret that I know nothing about removing your venom glands.” Then, with a swift kick, he removed the creature from his presence.

  His eyes drew upward. By the looks of it, it appeared she wasn’t going to make it. Her death would be convenient. Fate had intervened and his conscience would be clear; her death would not be on his hands.

  He wanted to feel relief. To take joy in knowing he kept his sacred vow. That King Erike would smile down on him for keeping to their ways. But the relief never came. As he stood there waiting for death to take her, he only felt guilt.

  Had he killed her in the clearing before she ran off her death could have been swift, painless. She didn’t deserve this.

  She’s a female.

  BUT she’s human.

  Indecision and turmoil bit at him from the inside out. Mistreatment of a female was considered a crime among his kind. And the notion was long ingrained in him from the teachings from his sire. Wasn’t watching her suffer in such a manner not only cruel, but also against his sire’s teachings?

  This isn’t mistreatment.

  You are a coward and a fool if you believe that to be true.

  Trolls were supposed to be honorable. Skarde knew that death by foe is not a dishonorable death. For a brief moment, he considered ending her pain and suffering with a quick slash to her neck, but quickly eradicated the thought from his mind.

  To steal what my kind consider an honorable death in and of itself would be a dishonorable act.

  Skarde growled loudly in discomfort. It pained him to see her this way, but in his heart, he couldn’t end her misery. He’d have to wait it out. Silently, he prayed to the gods and asked for guidance, but just like all other times, they were silent.

  Suddenly, a hand wrapped around his leg. He looked down. Bright blue eyes pierced his own.

  “Help me–” the female choked out with wide eyes, begging him for assistance before another convulsion took her.

  This time, as her body shook, a white foamy substance spilled from her lips. Her eyes rolled back, and her head lolled to the side. For reasons unknown, a sense of uneasiness flowed through him.

  I can’t let her die here in this cursed place.

  Skarde wasn’t exactly sure what it was that overcame him, but in one swift movement, he kneeled low to the ground and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body up against his chest.

  She squirmed and convulsed against him. Her jarring movements made it rather difficult for Skarde to retrace his steps and make his exit, but he didn’t entirely fault her. He understood she wasn’t in control of her body.

  Once outside, he rushed as fast as he could from the cursed land, vowing to never again enter such a horrific place.

  Chapter Six

  Delilah

  Delilah skirted in and out of consciousness unsure if she was dead or alive. Her mind swirled round and round from the past to the present, then back again. Not only did it confuse her, but she was unable to piece together what had happened.

  When she did have slight moments of lucidity, she thought perhaps she was in hell. Her body was alight, burning as if it was on fire. Had the villagers caught up to her? Were they burning her alive for her crimes?

  Another spasm choked its way through. She felt her entire body stiffen and contort. Fluid poured from her mouth. The smell of vomit burned her nose. The dead don’t get sick. But despite her attempts to reason with herself, nothing could pull her from her state of mind. Before she knew it, her fever sucked her back into her nightmarish memories.

  Many suitors skipped over her in the presentation line. Delilah presumed that her ripe
age of twenty-eight was just a tad too old for them, even the ones who were older than herself. Not that she honestly cared. Marriage was the furthest thing from her mind.

  But father will marry you off anyways…

  Not if I can find safe passage out of the village before he has a chance.

  Your chance was lost when he found your stash of supplies and the map you procured with the help of Mrs. Violet. It’s too late.

  “What’s your name, pretty thing?” a middle-aged man, dressed rather poorly with stains on his shirt and a tear on the side of his pants asked, reaching out to touch her face.

  Reflexively, Delilah leaned away from his prying hands in disgust. “Don’t touch me,” she replied.

  It wasn’t because he seemed poor or didn’t bother to groom himself that upset her, but rather the thought of another person touching her brought up memories she’d rather keep locked away in the tight box, never to be opened. Enduring the Suitors’ Ball was one thing, being touched by a man was another matter entirely. After the incident with Head Guardsman Miller’s son, Tristan, who tried to rape her in an alley only a few months back, Deliah just couldn’t tolerate being touched.

  The suitor’s brown eyes darkened a shade, and his brows furrowed in anger. “You’re not allowed to refuse me. It’s the law,” he challenged.

  "That law was made by men so they could prey upon women," she said, her voice was but a squeak, however underneath, her resolve was firm. Shock rocked through her body, unsure where she got the nerve to speak words considered treasonous against the councilmen. Perhaps she was just tired of being forced to do her father’s bidding, or maybe she’d rather perish than be forced to marry someone just to be bedded for heirs. There was a time when she wanted love, to start a family and have children of her own, but not now.

  The man drew closer. Grabbing her shoulder until his nails dug painfully into her skin, he leaned in and whispered, “If I select you tonight, I will make you beg like the dog that you are. An old maid such as yourself should be grateful for the attention.”