The Toll

by Jeanette Lynn

  The door opened suddenly, heavy footfalls following, and everyone immediately quieted.

  “Apologies,” Trystan mumbled, tugging off his hat and setting it on the hook by the door, sweeping past Otvla, who had her warm cape held out in front of her, as if she wanted him to hang it up for her.

  Lips pursing, she glared at him as he breezed past her, quickly scooping up a bowl of his own and scarfing more than half of it down before Otvla had even made it over to her seat.

  “Hungry, son?” Berthold joked, ribbing his youngest.

  “Starved,” Trystan grumbled between bites, giving his young bride a long, censorious look.

  She sniffed and thumbed her nose at him, taking the seat next to me to give him her back. “I made you food,” she muttered.

  “Food is edible,” was all he offered back. “Like to see you eat it, wife.” Trystan chuffed and quickly doled out another bowlful and a huge chunk of bread, his stomach grumbling loudly as he filled a cup of water and chugged it down.

  Natty glanced between the two worriedly, her brows puckering as they both studiously ignored each other in favor of supper. Face smoothing out, she quickly hid her expression, pasting on a big fake smile for the newlyweds.

  “So, uhm, Ottie, dear, I was just telling Daphedaenya about the baking auction for the festival. I thought maybe you would like to have a go at it too,” she prompted, her round apple cheeks dimpling up as she waited for her new daughter-in-law to reply.

  Otvla wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I’m too busy,” flicking her wrist, she waved her hand around airily, “with the baby coming and everything,” glancing at me, she smiled slyly in my direction, patting her stomach lovingly, “I just haven’t the time.”

  “She has the time,” Trystan cut in, placing his bowl in the rinse bucket before he walked to the door, pulling his hat and coat off the peg.

  “I do not!”

  “You do,” he said easily, avoiding her red-faced gaze, “she’s not much good at it, though. You could help her, can’t you, Mama?”

  Natty nodded eagerly, trying to make sure she didn’t look too eager, fearing she might hurt Otvla’s feelings.

  “Trystan! You can’t just...” Otvla burst out.

  Marching back, my brother-in-law—wow, that’s so odd to even think—came over and bent forward on the table, leaning in close.

  Otvla’s eyes widened and she shut her mouth with an audible snap, the black look her husband was giving her stopping any further interruptions dead in their tracks.

  Mamma and Papa were surprisingly quiet during the exchange.

  Curious, I peeked at them to find them purposefully ignoring the couple, as if their food was the most interesting thing in the world. Wow. They didn’t step in to coddle their little Otvla? Their baby?

  Hmmm. Interesting, indeed. Had to admit, I was somewhat impressed.

  “Mama is going to help you learn to cook proper, wife,” Trystan ground out, at his wit’s end. “Isn’t that nice?” Lips thin, pulled tight at the corners, he nodded his head slowly, encouraging her to do so, as well, waiting until she did before he stood up and turned away.

  Coming back after a brief pause, he walked over and gave Natty a quick kiss on the cheek before he went to leave. “Thank you, Mama,” he whispered.

  “Of course, sweetheart,” she whispered back, patting his cheek.

  He grinned and stood up, his smile faltering as he glanced at his wife. “Say thank you to Mother, Otvalena.” When she didn’t respond soon enough for his liking, he gestured towards her.

  Still silent, she bit her lip. I knew that look, all too well, and subtly kicked her under the table. She was debating on whether it would be worth it or not to defy him. Knowing Trystan as I did too, I knew he wasn’t in the mood.

  My younger sibling yelped and jumped, peering around the table as she stood up and gripped her shin.

  “Someone kicked me!” Pouting petulantly, her eyes turned to me accusingly, but I just watched her with wide, innocent eyes.

  Mumbling a protest, she kept eyeing everyone through the corner of her eye as she alternately fought between a glare, aimed in my direction, and an irritating pout, waiting for someone to come to her rescue.

  “Must’ve been an accident,” Berthold offered, his eyes going back and forth between us.

  Otvla opened her mouth, but then immediately closed it, shrinking a little when Trystan cracked his knuckles a little too loud, her shoulders slumping when he subtly shook his head, mouthing something I couldn’t quite make out.

  “Yes,” she mumbled, “must’ve been,” shocking me as all the fight in her went out, like trapped air escaping rapidly.

  My eyes lifted to Trystan’s questioningly, but he turned away quickly, his face reddening like a beet.

  “And, uh, thank you, Mama Natty,” Otvla grumbled softly, making sure it was sweet enough to sound sincere, and loud enough for her irritated husband to overhear. Biting her lip, she eyed the back of him worriedly, and it had me wondering what he’d threatened her with.

  Would he withhold money? Maybe. Add more chores she wouldn’t do anyways? No. How would that work as a threat?

  Hmm.

  Not caring enough to really think it through, I shrugged mentally. Well, whatever it is, it worked, and for Otvla that’s saying something.

  Satisfied, he gave a slight nod, his back still to us, and mumbled a few hasty good-byes before he hurried off.

  “I’d like to see him go without for a week and see how quick he is to do as I say,” Otvla grumbled under her breath, glaring at the door as it shut behind him.

  As everyone finished eating, Mamma and Natty wandered off to walk to the village, and Papa and Berthold went to go peek at Trystan’s calf. That just left me and sister dearest, sitting idly at the table.

  Blushing hard, she turned to me and blurted, “He refuses to touch me.”

  Not expecting that little slip, I blinked, and it took a moment to let that sink in.

  “Not since you came back,” she groused, as if this was all somehow my fault, “and he says, now that he knows I hate it when he withholds, he threatens to make me go without! He won’t bed me, he says, if I don’t learn to obey. Obey! Like a dog!”

  Which explains why she’d assumed he was getting what he needed from me.

  Not willing to touch that subject, ever, I got up and rinsed my cup out. “Your marriage is none of my-”

  “Well, isn’t it?” she cut in. “Everything was just fine until you came back. We were all just fine, and I was...”

  Letting out a shocked breath, I whirled around and slapped her, reacting impulsively as her words cut me, slicing right through me like a hot knife. The sound of my hand cracking across her cheek led to a very long and deafening silence, stark against the noise trickling in from outside.

  All the anger I’d subconsciously harbored for her, the resentment for her part in my situation these last six months, and for all those things I’d shrugged off before, burst forth, as if the dam had been broken.

  Shocked, she hopped up and cupped her cheek, stunned, her large hazel eyes welling up as she just stared at me, shocked.

  “You... you hit me.” Her fingers ran across the red hand print welting up across her face, as if she couldn’t believe it.

  I couldn’t either, when I’d thought on it later, but at this moment, I’d found it well deserved, a long time coming, even.

  “Everything was not fine while I was gone!” I bellowed, rattling the cupboards just overhead. “I was not fine! Everything was not fine!” My chest heaved as we both just stood there, at an impasse, my lungs pumping like a bellows, trying to suck in air I didn’t feel like I was getting, as my fists clenched reflexively at my sides. Without another word, I walked to the wall peg as calmly as possible, my mind swirling with emotions, and picked up my cape.

  “Where... where are you going?” Otvla whispered uncertainly, a slightly dazed look on her face. Her hand was still cupping her face in disbelief,
as if she truly couldn’t believe it.

  No one had ever put a hand to her before. She looked lost.

  I didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.

  “I need air,” was all I said, taking off as my cape swirled around me.

  ****

  Laying in a field full of late blooming wild flowers and milkweed, I closed my eyes and caved to temptation.

  “Come on. Come on,” I muttered, shutting my eyes tighter, scrunching my face up in concentration.

  Focusing, I tried to picture Troll, tried to push the image into my mind, making it a reality. Determined, I kept up, thinking of different ways to summon him, completely clueless as to how it all worked.

  “It can’t be that hard,” I huffed, “the bastard tries it all the time. Why can’t I summon up one little puny meeting, huh?” Growling under my breath, I slapped the ground angrily with my fists. “Is that too much to ask?” I guess it was, as I impatiently kept trying, this horribly battering need for him I felt deep in soul, riding me hard to be near him, see him, touch him—anything!—beat at me. But nothing happened.

  It was maddening and depressing, driving me to distraction above all else, and I eventually fell asleep pondering and cursing my conundrum, curling up with my cape in the middle of an open field as sleep overtook me.

  ****

  The moment I glanced around, I knew I was dreaming, and even then I sought him out.

  Troll! Troll! My mind bellowed, calling out to him.

  His answer came sooner than I’d thought, much sooner, yanking me towards him with the harsh tug of an invisible force that had me shooting from my own dreamscape, through a veil of hazy fog, and smack dab into his.

  “Oomph!” Yelping, I landed with a harsh thud, skidding along a surprisingly warm slab of red earth.

  Peeking around, I noticed I was in a cave of some sort, strange little lights, more like glowing balls of blue and orangish red magical flames, suspended above nothing and held by nothing, guiding the way.

  My fingers traced along all the funny markings scratched into the red dirt walls, turning into deep scratches and gouges, then holes the size of my head. Or maybe a troll-sized fist, I corrected.

  A loud, pain filled groan caught my ears and I felt the hairs on the back of neck standing on end. There was a harsh mutter, followed by a grumbling curse, and I recognized the tone and voice immediately. Strange, cube-shaped spaces were carved into the walls, creating large, spacious cubbies, the farther I traveled down the dark, low lit corridors.

  My fingers skimmed too close to one of the openings and I jerked back as I felt a surprising tingle course through me.

  “Magic,” I whispered, jerking my hand back as something from within one of the magical barriers charged at it, as if it was dead bent on getting at me.

  Eyes widening, I gasped and stumbled back as the creature slammed into it and immediately bounced back, my hand clutching at my chest through my dress when I realized I was still alive, willing my wildly beating heart to still.

  It was trapped, the snarling, raging beast ramming at it, trying to get a look at it like trying to squint at someone clearly through a thick, soup-like fog, whatever that shimmering shield consisted of, keeping it from getting to me, and me from seeing it, as well.

  A loud guttural moan, more pain than anything, rent the air, and I popped up, hastening towards it, a new kind of fear enveloping me. Troll! He’s hurt!

  My pace picked up as I sped towards the back, disregarding all the other howling, lost sounding souls, heading for the one that tugged at me, my stomach turning sickeningly.

  I still couldn’t wrap my mind around everything, and there was so much left unexplained as of yet, but my protective instincts for him, only god knows why, reared up, and I reacted without another thought. Farther and farther I went, a long stream of empty prisons lining the wall, the less polished the corridors became.

  When I finally reached his cell, as the crudely shaped boxed spaces would seem to me, I stopped dead in my tracks as he snarled warningly, hunched over in a corner, hands cupped over his head as he howled pitifully.

  “Be gone!” he growled, tossing his arm back to ward others off, shifting back and forth in his corner, his naked back exposed to me, the loin cloth covering his genitals the only bit of covering he had on. “I dinna want ta be bothered, so git!”

  Entire body trembling, I swallowed hard, tentatively stretching my hand out across the expanse that separated us, feeling farther away than ever, as if the short distance was actually miles, he felt so out of reach to me. My hands shook as they extended, tremulous. I’d never heard him so angry before, or so sad. It tore at my wildly beating chest, and I slowly made my way into his space.

  My boot scuffed on the ground as I slowly slipped through the tingling fog, and Troll immediately stopped mumbling to himself, large head shooting up as he got on all fours and shot around, roaring at his would-be intruder.

  Though shocked beyond my wits, I held firm, but squeezed my eyes shut, stupidly, or bravely—however you chose to see it—knowing I wouldn’t have the time to get out of his range, or defend myself against his strength, when he attacked.

  Tensing, my hands shot up and I shifted back, slamming into a wall as I tripped on the hem of my own dress, launching me backwards.

  “Gersthart,” I choked out, “please, I...” Too late, I realized I’d used his real name. “I... I mean, uh, Troll... er, uhm, Bektam!” Shit! Or bollocks, or whatever I’m supposed to say! Ducking my head, I bent a little and covered my neck and face as best as I could. That’s usually the first things he goes for, I’d remembered. “B-b-b-bektam...” I tried again, wondering if I’d even gotten it correct. That is what the other troll had called him, Bektam, right? I think.

  The troll storming towards me, my Troll, yet disturbing not my troll, let out another ear splitting roar, decidedly different than the first one, followed by a thundering growl.

  Hugging myself into a tight ball protectively, I tensed from head to toe, the sound of his rushed, bounding steps sending a shot of adrenaline coursing right through me. Breath panting out, heart beating like a steel drum, I leaned heavily on the wall behind me, bracing my trembling body before we made impact.

  It never happened.

  A large, monstrously imposing mass of male and flesh stopped right before me, panting heavily between sucking in deep lung-fuls of air, inhaling deeply and letting it out slowly, until it sounded as if he had somewhat calmed himself.

  Braving to have a quick look, I peeked between the safety of my folded arms to see his massive body heaving, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he reached a hand out to touch me, as if he didn’t believe I was truly here.

  Nostrils flared, his eyes looked jet black and glazed over, a wildness about them that set my nerves on edge, the pupils so large they swallowed up all of that deep, glinting orange that normally surrounded them.

  Leaning forward, he mumbled something to himself in some other language, hand shaking hard as he fingered a hank of my hair gingerly and closed his eyes, leaning in to drag it to his nose, taking me right along with him. Wincing, I yelped at the sudden hard tug.

  Muttering under his breath with a guttural, unrecognizable voice, he murmured something again, shocking me as he moved lightning quick, dropping my hair and gripping my shoulders, shoving me into the wall.

  Squawking out a protest, I winced and grunted at the sharp impact, throwing my hands up and slamming them against his chest as he leaned forward and nuzzled me.

  Grunting impatiently, he snuffled at my shoulder, muttering and mumbling vehemently under his breath, the words making absolutely no sense to me, thick, dark lips grazing my skin.

  Trying to keep my breaths steady and even, I shivered at every hot press of his lips to my suddenly chilled flesh, every accidental touch as they mumbled against me teasing me senseless.

  Against my better judgement, I wanted more.

  As his mumbling continued, I could only hope he wasn’t c
ursing me again, spinning some kind of spell on me that would only make life that much more unbearable.

  “Please... I just... I didn’t come to...”

  His head shot up at the sound of my voice, those deep black orbs eyeing me as I stuttered and stumbled on how to get out of this.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted, glancing at the safety of the other side of the wall, gesturing just beyond the blurring, magical veil. “I’ll... I’ll just leave.”

  Face twitching, pulling into a vicious grimace, he snarled and shoved his face into mine as I motioned towards it weakly, my hand falling limply to my side as my jaw unhinged and I gaped openly.

  At the look on my face, he shook his head several times, squeezing his eyes open and shut as he boxed me in, leaning his forearms on the wall on either side of me.

  “No,” he gritted out slowly, as if he was talking through a thick fog. Growling in frustration, he snarled again and gripped my hips, shoving his face back into my neck to nuzzle my skin.

  “I...”

  “NO,” he growled long and low, wide chest vibrating as he bit at the tender flesh of my nape.

  Crying out at the contact, I jerked at the unexpected nip, Troll’s wide, flat teeth clamping down as if he thought I might try to run. My jaw clenched as I forbid myself to call out or move, upsetting him further.

  Stiff and knotted up, I held perfectly still, my shoulder aching as he held on, like a wild animal, unwilling to release his prey.

  A deep, satisfied grumble rumbled up his chest, and I let out the breath I’d been holding as his teeth finally let go.

  “No. Leave.” The guttural voice that tumbled out of him was raw and animalistic, deep, as if from misuse. Sniffing at my skin, his tongue came out and laved at the bite marks that would surely bruise, his hands running over me, everywhere, making sure I was well and truly there. “No leavin’,” he grumbled out again, stilling his hands on my hips.

  Jumping right out of my skin, I squeaked when he gave them a squeeze, his face moving down my body, inhaling deeply, nuzzling and gently nipping at my chest through the top of my dress.