“Is my mother not well?”
“She is fine. For now.” Richard waved back to the door and Snedeker flew over, sitting unceremoniously upon a stack of books on the desk. The appearance of the fairy did not unsettle the bookstore owner—not surprising since his mother was a witch. “She asked me to find you. Says a troll is trying to kill her.”
“And who are you?” Sion asked, caution in the words.
“I am Richard McAllister, Heliwr of the Yn Saith. And this is my trusted guide, Snedeker of the Oakwell clan,” Richard answered. The knight then spent the next few minutes relating the history of the Everwinter, Merle’s wish to know when it would end, and how Sion’s mother could provide that answer—if Richard fulfilled his part of the bargain and sought out her sons.
“It would have to be a powerful troll to undo my mother. She has never been a weak individual,” Sion said, sitting back. For a few minutes, he just sat there, in thought. Richard waited. Sion went to a bookshelf then and, finding what he wanted, pulled a large black book and brought it back to the desk. “Trolls are a particularly nasty group. I have had to kill two in my lifetime. It was not easy. Almost killed me both times. She knows this.”
Richard hid his surprise. The bookseller was decidedly no warrior. Yet he had killed two trolls.
Interesting.
“I would think that’s the reason she wants you home,” the knight said.
As if he didn’t want to talk about it, he focused on the book, opening it. “Did she say anything else?”
Richard shook his head. “No. Just that she wanted you and your brother home. She said nothing of your wives or children.”
“Have you visited Tod yet?”
“He is on his way already,” Snedeker cut in.
“It will be good to see him. It has been . . . some time. We moved to different places. Left for work. Started families,” Sion said, sighing. “The truth is, this is going to be difficult. On her. On us. Trolls do not die easily. They always take a toll. In several ways. I know better than most.”
“Two trolls. How did that happen? Most people never see one in their lifetime, from what I understand,” Richard said, having never heard of someone being attacked twice by different bridge fey.
“Just lucky, I guess,” Sion snorted, still turning pages.
Richard leaned near, studying the leather-bound tome. It was filled with all manner of text, symbols, and elaborate illustrations of trolls as well as the different types of bridges and rivers they inhabited. Trolls were nasty creatures—a few of them had tried to kill him during his time as a knight—but he had never had to hunt one and certainly did not know enough to do this on his own. Sion flipped through the book, obviously looking for something in particular. The Heliwr could see at least one aspect of how Kathidell’s son would be necessary in the fight to come.
“We are fortunate you have this collection to pull from,” Richard pointed out. Knowledge could be a great weapon. “That book is an excellent resource.”
“It should be. I wrote it,” Sion said. He had stopped at several sections, reading them quickly, before moving on. “What do you know about the dangers of trolls, Heliwr of the Yn Saith?”
Snedeker hovered over the book now. “There are no dangers. I always just fly over bridges. No reason to risk it,” the fairy said. Richard gave him a dark look and the fairy rolled his eyes. “Fine. Trolls live under bridges. Or within bridges. To catch unwary travelers. To take their jewelry and eat the flesh from their bones.”
“The fairy is not wrong,” Sion said, having turned to a multi-page map that he unfolded out of the book. “But it is more complicated than that. They could easily trap unsuspecting travelers in forests or in high mountain passes or in cities. No, they live under bridges because bridges are over water.” Sion pointed at the rivers and bodies of water marked blue on the map. “As you can see, Annwn is lush with waterways. And all water is connected. The troll is a fey creature that can flow in and out of a medium. It can spawn—I am still unsure how it happens—and the troll’s progeny will spread to a new bridge up- or downriver. Killing those on the road as those who live nearby.”
“Even if we find this specific troll, there is no guarantee it will stay there,” Richard said. “It could flee through the water to elsewhere, is what you are saying.”
“I do not know. But if this particular troll has already latched onto my mother, it will remain,” Sion said. “It will not want to leave until its job is done.”
“But how did this troll choose your mother?” Snedeker asked. “And what does it gain by killing her?”
“I do not know the mind of a troll, fairy.”
“And you do not look much like a troll slayer,” the fairy judged.
“Strength comes in all kinds of hearts,” Sion countered, gray-blue eyes flashing. It was a moment of real anger but gone just as quick. “You would do well to remember that when it comes to my mother.”
Before the fairy could say anything more, the door at the rear of the shop opened and a woman emerged. She had fiery hair, pale skin lightly freckled, and eyes of a dark blue. She exuded confidence and glowed for it. In Annwn, among the fey, the redhead would be revered as a powerful creature. The Heliwr had known another such a woman once—one who had loved him but whose love hadn’t been returned. Snedeker would be reminded of Deirdre as well, the two friends long before Richard.
As she came out from around the desk, Sion went to put an arm around his wife. And the reason for her glow became very apparent.
She was near full-term pregnant.
“This is my wife, Kryst,” Sion introduced. She smiled and nodded in greeting.
“My fairy Snedeker here and I are happy to meet you,” Richard said, nodding in return. He gave Sion a questioning look though, one directed at his wife. “You will be coming then. Alone.”
“We both will. While she may appear it, nothing about Kryst is delicate. She has never met my mother,” Sion said. He looked away. “With your help, she and our baby will be in no danger.” He paused. “And my mother will be fine once I find a way to kill the troll.”
Kryst gave her husband a worried look, clearly wanting an explanation.
But the Heliwr glanced at his guide. Snedeker shook his leafy head, having seen it as well. They both knew the truth.
Despite his brave last words, Sion Oldten did not believe them.
Not one word.
“Now the first born isn’t telling us everything,” Snedeker grumped.
The fairy prattled on, repeating the same conversation had several times on their trip back to Kathidell Jayn Oldten. Richard said nothing. Instead, the Heliwr watched Sion and his pregnant wife as they walked their horses toward the house in the middle of the spring vale. The knight didn’t know what to think. The man was no warrior. He did not carry himself as one; he brought an old claymore he likely could not wield. Richard had known troll slayers and this one was as unlike the others as a cat was to a redwood. Still, over the years, he had been surprised by the most unsuspecting of men. The owner of Grim Oak Books very well could be exactly what his mother deemed him. And with his powerfully built brother, maybe they did make a formidable duo.
“Honestly, do you think he slayed two trolls?” Richard asked.
“Kramplesnot, are you actually, finally asking my opinion on this matter?” Snedeker asked, chest puffing up with imagined importance.
“Yes. I am.”
“In that case, no, I do not.” The fairy became very serious. “He knows a great deal, but I think a troll would rip him to pieces.”
Richard breathed in the spring air. “There is more to Sion Oldten than we are aware,” he said. “More to all of this beyond him too.”
“Remember Merle,” Snedeker said. “And why we are here. Once we get the information we seek, our job is done.”
“Indeed,” the Heliwr said. He knew better though. The situations Merle sent them into always had a way of not being what they seemed. Richard doubted i
t would be any different this time. “We are here for a purpose,” he said simply.
The fairy nodded before flying ahead, weaving between the trees and following the same path Sion and his wife had taken. Before they arrived to the garden surrounding the witch’s home, Tod came out, a big smile on his face. He gave his smaller brother a massive bear hug. The two wives hugged as well, talking about the lives they led and the forthcoming child. After pleasantries were done, Richard and the rest went inside.
Kathidell sat in her chair, holding Tod’s baby. Anaya Oldten took after her father—a strong baby already and long for her age—while she had stolen her grandmother’s smile and dancing eyes. Kathidell and Anaya beamed at one another, laughing, cooing, loving. Ryk smiled from his own chair, his pipe smoke disappearing into the home. There were few balms for the darkness in the world but a smiling and giggling baby had the ability to chase it from the hardest of hearts. It was clear whatever the troll did to Kathidell had become secondary to the happiness of her grandchild.
“You are lucky in your family. I wasn’t so,” Richard said to the witch. “They love you a great deal to travel through such dangerous weather. But I can see why. To see you together is magical.”
“She is more beautiful than I ever could have thought,” Kathidell agreed. She held the baby up and Anaya giggled. “It’s the first time we’ve seen one another, isn’t it?” she asked in her best sing-song voice. Anaya laughed all the more, lighting up like the sun.
Even Snedeker was not immune. Richard heard the fairy let go a small laugh from his place on the knight’s shoulder.
“It is time, Kathidell,” the Heliwr said, sorry to break the spell of happiness. “Those who love you most have gathered. And I have done my part, by your request.”
A bit of the bliss left Kathidell then. She handed Anaya back to Tod, pain catching her breath as she did so.
“Mother, you need to rest,” Sion scolded.
“Leave me, my family. I need some time but not to rest,” Kathidell said, twisting in her seat, the discomfort Richard had noted upon their meeting clearly worse. “All except you, Heliwr. And your guide there. You both remain.”
The members of the Oldten clan reluctantly left the room.
Richard knelt before the witch, the fairy still upon his shoulder.
“I know how your power works, Richard McAllister,” Kathidell said. “I have known several of your kind over the breadth of my life. Myrddin has ever selected the very best to fulfill the role. You are one of them. The power you possess can find the troll,” she said, touching the book her son Sion had created, the tome sitting on her side table. “A part of the troll is within me. I can feel it all too clearly. From it, you can use the Dark Thorn to track the troll back to its source, at its bridge. It must be destroyed. It cannot be allowed to harm others.”
“Or you any longer, Spring Witch,” Snedeker said, landing on her hand, a rare tenderness from the fairy.
“You honor me with that title. I like it very much,” Kathidell said, green eyes earnest. She looked back to Richard. “It may be too late for me. Seek that which is inside of me with your magic. Follow it away to its source.”
Richard called the Dark Thorn. The black staff appeared, warm and true in his hands. He closed his eyes, calling upon the power of his office. The staff warmed even as its power infiltrated Kathidell, his probing gentle, not wanting to hurt her. He found the darkness almost immediately, in the lining of her stomach, slowly spreading. He encountered her magic as well, fighting it. He saw immediately there was nothing he could do to help that she was not already doing. Instead, he called upon the Dark Thorn’s ability to find that which is lost, and the magic snaked from the witch into the world beyond, the trail as clear as if Richard had seen it from the sky.
The troll was not far. It was outside the valley, in the Everwinter, occupying a bridge just to the north.
And the fey creature was powerful.
“I’ve located it,” Richard said, letting the Dark Thorn and its magic vanish.
Kathidell nodded. “Go then. Take my family with you. Destroy the troll.”
“And when will the Everwinter end?” Snedeker reminded.
“I have already shared that knowledge, my little Oakwell fairy,” Kathidell said, gracing the guide with a warm smile. “It will be revealed, in due time.”
“You are a great deal like Merle,” Richard said.
“Nicer though,” the fairy added.
“Well, that may be true,” Kathidell said. Her eyes lit up with mirth. “After all, he’s quite a bit older than I am. A curmudgeon of the first kind.”
“Too true,” Richard said. He gripped her shoulder—a minor gesture to try and share strength that he could see waned—before turning to his guide.
“Let’s gather the Oldtens, Snedeker.”
Once Richard and Kathidell shared their plan and the whereabouts of the troll with the others, it did not take long for her family to muster. Given what Sion had gone through twice before, they understood the severity of the situation. The troll had to be killed. It would not be easy. All trolls and bridges were different and the Everwinter—with its already dangerous conditions—would make it even harder. Sion saddled the horses, the bookseller’s claymore strapped at his side and several daggers about his waist. His brother stood nearby, armed with a massive war hammer and a stormy mien. While Richard would not have advised it, even the oldest among them, Ryk, prepared to go, packing a sword as long and slender as he was.
Whit and Kryst watched from the home’s doorway, remaining behind to care for Anaya and their ailing mother-in-law.
Conviction sat strongly in each face. It barely covered up the uncertainty. There was only one way to know how it would go. A first step. Richard whistled to Lyrian and the Rhedewyr joined them. After he mounted, the Heliwr nodded to the home, knowing that in some way Kathidell watched. The rest of the men followed suit, mounting their horses, the riders all very different but fortified by the same goal.
They followed the Heliwr and his guide from the sweet-smelling garden, in one line with Richard leading and Tod bringing up the rear. Sion shared what he knew about the troll but it was mostly a subdued discussion. They all knew enough to be wary. The valley opened up to them, its animals and insects numerous, its lively sounds a direct contrast to those of the Everwinter. It was around mid-afternoon and the valley beginning to slope upward toward snow when Snedeker returned. He took his customary place on Richard’s shoulder—near enough to the knight’s ear for a private conversation.
“What is on your mind, Rick?” Snedeker whispered. “You have been lost in thought ever since we left the witch’s side.”
“Kathidell doesn’t feel very confident that this will save her.”
“How do you know that?”
“When I sought the source of what ailed her, I sensed her fear. It was genuine and heartfelt like the woman herself,” Richard answered. “She may not survive even given what we are attempting. This is like surgery, trying to remove that which is harming Kathidell,” Richard said, trying to make the fairy understand. “Sometimes, in my world, when someone goes into surgery, it makes matters worse.” He paused. “Sometimes, the action can do more damage than good.”
“And you are worried that could happen here?” Snedeker surmised. The Heliwr nodded. “How does one know what to do?” the fairy asked.
Richard looked back at Sion. The son still knew more than he was letting on. “One doesn’t. Only Kathidell could make the decision. She seemed pretty set on the troll being destroyed.”
“Even if it might kill her faster?” Snedeker asked. “What happens if she dies? We lose the information we have come to gather.”
“I trust her.”
The fairy said nothing, his face’s bark pinching up in a question but keeping oddly quiet on the matter. Richard kept them on the path the Dark Thorn had shown. He worried about the witch. She was special. He doubted anyone who had met her would say otherwise, and
it tore him apart having seen the troll’s power inside of her. She would fight but a part of Kathidell sensed the terrible possible outcome—and prepared for it as well as anyone could. Perhaps what Richard and the others did this day would prevent her death. But in matters of life and death, the Heliwr had always found it to be a coin flip that never landed the way people hoped.
The road climbing even as the temperature fell, they approached the valley’s ridge. Spring shifted strangely to autumn. The chill of the air now forming on their breaths, the men put their Everwinter clothing on. Evergreens became darker; the other trees lost their leaves. The forest sounds dwindled and, when snowflakes began to fall, no one said a word. They knew where they going. In an hour’s time, they were well within the Everwinter extremes, Lyrian pushing through feet of snow, the fey horse connected to the land and giving him power to move through it. The other horses followed in the created path, their riders alert.
They crossed two bridges, the waters beneath frozen to a sheen. No troll existed in either one, Richard assured the party.
When they came to correct one, Richard slowed, the knight gesturing to the others. Silent, they gazed upon it.
It was a large bridge, larger than expected in this part of Annwn, the river it spanned the result of several smaller tributaries merging into one. Ice hung from thick wooden beams, expertly put together between stone pillars that helped anchor the entire structure, the forest on both sides wintry dark. It had a slight curve, no roof, and the waters were just wide enough that the Everwinter could not freeze its entirety. That was not all though. Even in the Everwinter—where all other woodland smells were arrested—the odor of the troll’s spent tobacco smoke and unwashed body tinged the air, making it obvious they had the correct bridge.
It did not bode well. Due to the snow and ice, footing would be as treacherous as the waters below—and the troll comfortable with its surroundings and angrily bolstered by uninvited visitors.
It was likely already aware of them, watching.
Snedeker flew down to the riverbank, hiding, to come from a different direction. With a nod to the others, Richard dismounted. They joined him as he made his way through the deep snow, the Dark Thorn now warm in his hands.
Unfettered II: New Tales By Masters of Fantasy Page 56