Studiously ignoring me, the snarling beast took a hunk of unidentified, roasted animal off of a spit and took a huge bite out of it, dribbling juice and fat from his dinner onto the dirt floor.
“What’s she ta ye?” he asked around a mouthful of animal flesh, taking out a large flask to swig from and wash it down.
Knowing it was now or never, I stepped towards him, oddly calmed at the normalcy of watching someone, or something, do something so natural—so normal as eating a meal. He wasn’t trying to eat me or Otvla, after all, so I went for broke.
“She’s my sister.”
The oversized creature stopped, mid chew, and stared at me, just stared. Deep orange eyes glowing, he cocked his head to the side, wide nose twitching, and waited.
Good. I have his whole attention now.
“She’s my baby sister, you see, and my family misses her dearly,” I wheedled pleadingly. “Can’t we work something out for her release? Can’t we come to an... an understanding? An agreement?” Forcing my feet to move, I shuffled closer. “Is there something more, besides, uh, erm, flesh? A token of some sort that you need or something, perhaps? Anything?!”
Desperation, thy name is Daphedaenya.
“Yes!” Otvla called out excitedly. “Can’t you come to an understanding and let me free?! Tell him, Daphie! Tell him!”
I rubbed my forehead exasperatedly and turned to her, motioning for her to be quiet.
The troll looked supremely annoyed, and we were, after all, interrupting his supper, and he is what Papa likes to call a right bastard.
So, with that in mind, I turned to her and tried to tell her as gently as I could to shut her trap. “Otvla, you aren’t helping me any, sweet, could you just-”
“Oh! I know!” she exclaimed excitedly, as if I’d never spoken.
Eyes widening, I made swift ‘shut it’ motions with my hands, hoping the troll didn’t catch on. Otvla’s ideas never boded well. They were always hasty and involved me doing all the-”
“Daphie can take my place!” she shouted triumphantly, grinning at the very idea. “She likes to work, don’t you, Daphie?!” With a huge, fake smile, she bobbed her head encouragingly, trying to get me to join in.
My hands fisted at my sides and my jaw dropped. “Otvla!”
“What?” she cajoled innocently, as if this sounded perfectly reasonable, pursing her pouty lips annoyingly, sticking out her lower lips like the brat that she was. “Well, you do. And it’s not like Trystan’s going to magically get up the nerve and ask father to marry you anytime soon, so you have time.”
“Otvla!!” I gritted out, “Shut. Up!”
The troll, I noticed as I glanced at him, was watching our exchange interestedly, eyes bouncing back and forth between us. He, like many others, was sucked right into the drama.
“The troll said you smell of sex,” she added slyly, “your beau probably already got what he’d wanted anyways... Whereas I...”
“You spoiled little twit!!” I burst out, marching towards her. “You shit! How dare you put this all one me!! And how dare you impugn Trystan’s character! You sniveling little toad!”
I marched over to her cage and eyed it thoughtfully. It looked simple enough of a contraption. Surely I could manage it.
“Did you agree with the troll?” she whispered, unaffected by my rant, or the fact that I’d just exposed my relationship with my now soon to be husband, giving name to my secret lover. Huddling down, my younger sibling’s eyes darted between us quizzically. “Is he going to let you take my place?”
“No,” I grumbled, muttering under my breath, “I’m trying to figure out if it’s more trouble to climb this contraption to strangle you myself, or just cut the rope and watch you fall.”
“Daphie!” Otvla’s outraged gasp gave me a small measure of satisfaction, but it didn’t last long.
The troll behind me roared out with laughter, and I jumped, not realizing he’d followed right behind me.
“An’ how’s that fer a fair trade,” he guffawed, the irony not lost on me.
My cheeks burned, like hot twin flames across my cheeks, singeing me with humiliation.
Even the troll makes fun of me. The troll!
“She’s not that bad,” Otvla protested, clearing her throat in that sickly supreme way she does that lets you know she doesn’t mean a word.
I hated it. No, I loathed it.
The troll sobered and snorted, his burnt orange eyes large and probing. “I wasna sayin’ she was the rotten potato stinkin’ up the room, layabout,” he snapped, lumbering back to his warm fire and crispy dinner. “Now think on that, ya lazy git.”
“I don’t smell like a potato,” Otvla whined, sniffling noisily, then checked her underarms for any noticeable stench. She must have smelled like something, yelping and wrinkling her nose, lowering her arms quickly in hopes I hadn’t noticed.
She smelled ripe, all right, but it was her attitude that I likened to the rotted tubers.
“What if I bring you two silver lockets?” I bargained, making my way slowly back over to him.
“What? Hers? No. Besides, I already give it to yer bearer.” He smirked. “A token from the troll, so ta speak, seein’ as I’m so gracious an’ all.”
A warning, it was more like.
“Oh, yes,” I mumbled under my breath, “I’m beginning to see just how.”
“What was tha’ now, nugget, I canna be makin’ out yer mumbles an’ such?”
“I said, I think you just wanted to scare us, sending the locket like that,” I improvised, “and if that was your intention, you’ve succeeded.”
He shrugged but didn’t answer, confirming what I’d thought.
“I have an aunt a village over, she has a set of silver...”
“No,” he grumbled, dropping a sliver of meat on the floor. Grunting, he kicked it into the flame with his bare foot.
Glancing over, I watched, the unnatural blues and reds of the flames quickly sparking before the fallen scrap disappeared into a cloud of sparkling dust. Magic, I thought, awed and a little more frightened than before. How else could it be? It has to be.
“Okay… what if…” I bit my lip, trying to think.
His eyes narrowed shrewdly and he set his meat down, wiping his mouth on his hairless arm.
In fact, he didn’t have a bit of hair on him anywhere, not one inch. That must be why he looks so funny to me—he has no eyebrows.
“Why are ye here? Are ye really willin’ ta trade for her? A real trade, ye be offerin’?” he demanded.
“I already told you,” I began to explain, “I want my-”
“Who sent ye?” he cut in, catching something I didn’t. His deep voice had gotten deeper, snapping at me, irritated.
“My mother,” I blurted, before I could think better of it.
The troll’s face turned hard as stone and his eyes flashed. Teeth gnashing, his jaw locked and he cursed heavily under his breath.
“Get out,” was all he said, glaring at me while I just stared at him.
“What?”
“Get out,” he grumbled again in a rolling growl, wide chest rumbling with discontent, voice gone even deeper, rougher. He looked so pissed all of the sudden, but I didn’t understand.
“But, I don’t…”
“Get out!!” he roared, startling me as he launched himself towards me.
I stumbled back, staring up, petrified, into the outraged face of a very angry troll.
“I said ta get out!!”
Frozen in place, I didn’t move, flat on my back on the cold, hard floor.
This must have displeased him further, and he rolled me over with his foot, gripping the back of my gown and cape simultaneously to lift me up.
Screeching, I hollered as he hauled me to my feet, raising me higher and higher until my feet swung uselessly about the hem of my dress.
“No!” I shouted, finding my senses. “My sister-”
“Is mine ‘til she works off her toll, or I kill her,�
� he bellowed, “whichever comes about first,” tacking on the last part for good measure, raging as he stormed towards the river.
“Wait! Wait!” I reached behind me when he would have tossed me in, but he was much stronger than I. At his second attempt, I fell in with a resounding splash. Surfacing with a gasp and a shriek, my head bobbing precariously as I thrashed about wildly, just trying to keep afloat at the water’s surface.
“Dinna be forgettin’ yer shit now,” he barked, and my bag fell in after me a moment later, dropping beside me with a resounding splash.
“Noooo!!!” I bellowed as the icy depths of the river enveloped me, whisking me off to I don’t know where.
“Can she swim?” I heard Otvla ponder thoughtfully, sounding supremely disappointed at my sudden departure, but not at all worried for my well-being or safety, right before my head disappeared, swallowed up in the busy rapids.
****
Head finally popping up, I resurfaced a few brisk moments later and gasped, letting the river carry me down stream farther, without much choice in the matter, until I could eventually reach a limb from a downed tree.
Launching myself towards it, I gripped it tight and used it to haul myself out, cursing my stupid sibling and a certain belligerent troll equally.
“This isn’t over,” I grumbled, but I had to wonder why I still tried.
A Toll, Ye Say?
It didn’t take me too long to make my way back, and I dropped the soggy burlap bag at my feet with a sickeningly wet thump.
Otvla gaped at me as the troll growled and stormed across the room.
Growling back, I crouched down and put my hands out in front of me warningly.
Otvla spluttered as I snarled like a wild animal, a woman possessed, staving off his approach.
“You wanted me to be here of my own free will?” I challenged, glaring at him menacingly, daring him to step forward, my body soaked through to the bone, numb, my cape lost somewhere in the river. “Well,” my soggy arms spread wide, water flapping about everywhere, “here I am.”
He eyed me for a moment before he nodded. “And you’re amenable to a trade? A fair trade? Willingly?” He stressed the words as if they were of the utmost importance.
“Yes,” I snapped finally, willing my teeth not to chatter in front of him, “I’m willing to make a fair trade for her with you, but only if it’s fair.”
“Alright.”
I frowned uncomprehendingly as he nodded and walked over to Otvla’s cage, lowering the rope that held it.
“What? Just like that? Don’t you want to ask me what I offer first?” I followed him warily, wet squishing sounds making a stench-less, juicy flatulent symphony behind me.
Squish, poof, squirt, squee. And repeat.
Stupid shoes, stupid clothes, stupid river! Stupid paste jewelry! Stupid, cheap relatives!
He nodded to himself—Or was that to me?—as the cage creaked, slowly making its decent towards the hard, packed red dirt of the cave floor, and subsequently, Otvla’s freedom.
“I agree,” he grunted out, as if that meant something to me.
Or didn’t it?
Wait. Does he think...? No!
Bellowing in dismay, I rushed in front of the door to Otvla’s temporary prison, barring him from opening it.
“You agree to what, exactly?” I hedged, fearing I’d just done something monstrously stupid.
“Move,” he ordered and motioned for me to step aside.
“Explain,” I countered.
He growled, looking down at me as if I was a gnat to be squashed, and let out an impatient breath.
“Ye can take her place. I agreed. Now move.”
“No! No!” I gripped the bars tight and flattened myself out, gripping them for all I was worth.
The gruff troll tried to pluck me off, but I wouldn’t let go, curling my fingers around the bars.
“No,” I grunted, and he growled impatiently.
“No, what?” he gritted out, but I knew he wasn’t that stupid.
“No,” I repeated, shaking my head vigorously. “No, I won’t.”
“Don’t be so selfish, Daphedaenya,” Otvla whined, and I growled at her to shut up.
“Too late, tis done.” He snorted and slapped my hand, smashing it so hard into the metal I let go, crying out in protest.
Sighing heavily, as if truly exasperated, he picked me up by the back of my gown again, easily taking the other hand off the bars, and held me out and away from him.
Shrieking like a she-devil incarnate, I screamed and cursed, swinging about violently, watching helplessly as Otvla picked up the soggy burlap and made a run for it, not even looking back at me.
She did nothing, not even shout a quick good-bye or thank me—the heartless wretch.
A moment later the troll tossed me in and slammed the door shut, locking it with a large, iron key.
“No! Damn you! No!” I shook the bars and screamed louder, ignoring his threats of eating and dismembering me. At my current state, I’m almost positive I may have even dared him to. Swearing under my breath, I took off my boot and threw it in his general direction, growling as it whizzed by his head. Spiraling in the air, it hit the wall with a wet thud, splattering mud and muck everywhere.
As if oblivious to my ranting tantrum, he resumed his place by the fire, his back to me, and picked up another slab of meat slowly roasting over a spit.
Didn’t matter what I did, I screamed and ranted, raving until my voice went hoarse, cursing him and my sister, alternately, to hell and back, but it all fell on deaf ears.
Slumping down hours later, wet, tired and cold, utterly defeated, I broke out into angry, noisy sobs, curling up in a ball as I cried myself to sleep.
****
The next morning I didn’t fare any better, waking up with swollen lids and a stuffy nose. My body protested any and all movement, and my clothes were still soaked through. It was going to be a miserable day.
When my eyes finally opened, I shot up, shocked. The opening to the bridge wasn’t there, and in its place was another cave wall. My heart wept at the sight of it, crying out as mournfully as I did.
“It’ll be back tonight, nugget, ye can bet on that.”
My head shot toward the familiar, disgruntled voice.
“You tricked me,” I accused, rubbing my throat when my voice wouldn’t come out above a croak. It felt thick and swollen, raw, inside and out.
“Isna that what ye was tryin’ ta do ta me?” he shot back, my cage rattling ominously as he lowered it.
Lips clamped shut to keep from chattering, I gave him a death glare as he slowly came into view.
“I didn’t know they were paste!” I tried to shout.
His thick, dark grey lips quirked up, but just at the corners. “A likely story, little nugget, but I aint buyin’ it, so shut it. Been dealin’ wit’ yer kind fer years. Liars, all of ya. Tricky little cheats.”
“I don’t lie!” I protested, my voice cracking like a young male coming into his own.
“Oh, an’ I’m the belle ‘o’ the ball,” he muttered sarcastically, shoving things at me from through the bars.
“I didn’t,” I gritted out.
“Save it.”
Grunting, he walked away, leaving my cage on the cave floor, still locked, and left me to rifle through the fabric he’d tossed through the bars.
A half a loaf of bread was wrapped in one, along with a flagon of what I assumed was water, and a giant white mass of material, shaped like an odd tent with sleeves.
“What is it?” I asked myself aloud, trying to figure out which way was up.
“It’s dry an’ it’ll fit, is what. So put it on before ye start ta mold.”
“Why, so you can sell my clothes to the poor for twice what they’re worth?” I may have snickered a little, but I was wallowing in self-loathing and bitterness at the moment.
“Hurry up or ye’ll stink up me place,” he snapped, opening and shutting the trunks scattered about the
space angrily.
“It would probably be an improvement,” I muttered under my breath.
Snarling, troll growled, “Get dressed, ye have work ta do.”
Sniffing, I made no move to dress, plopping down mutinously on the floor. As I landed, I ignored the disgusting squish sound I made and the discomfort it caused.
“Make me.” Rolling my eyes, I let the bread and the flagon roll out of the cage bars and onto the floor, defiant as I met his gaze head on.
The troll charged up to my cage and pushed his thick, meaty arm through, yanking me to him by the front of my bodice.
All those things Trystan had told me about the troll came flashing back, and true fear settled in, his breath fanning, hot and menacing, across my face.
Glaring at me silently, he turned his huge fist, and I felt the stitches in the back of my dress pulling as the fabric gathered, coming apart at the seams. Gasping, I winced as it squeezed my chest.
If he kept it up, I was sure it would pop in the back and all of it would fall away like tissue paper.
The stitches finally did give as he twisted it farther, and I felt my sleeves slip down my pale shoulders.
My hands met his over the top of my bodice, the only thing holding my breasts from his view.
“Please,” I begged. “Please don’t.”
Eyes flashing, he snarled in my face, the smell of ale and something else wafting across. Something not entirely unpleasant, but strong. Maybe cinnamon.
My limbs started shaking, and he stopped snarling, blowing his warm breath once more across my face as he let out a slow, even breath. Eyes narrowing, he glanced down, realizing where his fist now settled, sandwiched between two rather large mounds, pressed up against my heart.
Releasing me quickly, he shoved me back. “Dinna flatter yerself, nugget,” he grunted, “I willna be rollin’ ‘round in the mud wit’ the pigs. Wouldna be messin’ wit’ the crusty likes of ye.”
Turning around so he couldn’t see the look on my face, I had no choice but to expose my bared back to him, slipping the voluminous bit of white material he’d offered over my head. Smoothing it out, I gave it an experimental sniff, somewhat mollified when it didn’t smell like a dirty, week old stocking.
The Toll Page 6