Grunting, I squinted, groaning as I rolled over, every bone and muscle in my body aching in protest with the movement. As I rolled to my feet and attempted a stretch, I realized the place was eerily quiet.
Only the sound of a soft, cool breeze floating in from overhead was to be heard.
“He-hello? Hello?” When I tried to speak my voice came out gruff and low, croaking from my throat, no louder than a mouse’s squeak. “Hello?” When nothing happened, only the wind to greet me, rustling the shutters, I slowly crept from the room. A sudden ‘thwack-thwack’ sent me skittering back, but I quickly shuffled forward. “Niniane? Hello? Lady of the Lake... person?” Troll’s mother?
Nothing.
When I reached the main room I found it empty, the fire having died and gone out, both chairs sitting before it empty. Poking my head into her little kitchen area, I found that deserted too, but for three small mice fighting over crumbs, along with the pot of stew from last night.
It was much chillier in this part of the little shack, and upon seeing the old crone’s heavy, light blue cloak, now hanging on an old nail by the door, I walked over and slid it on. It smelled of lavender and mint, and a hint of something else I couldn’t quite place as I gave it a cursory sniff, fully expecting something foul.
When the search in the dilapidated cottage proved unfruitful, I ventured a look around outside. One full circle and a quick trip through the wooded area within seeing distance of the ramshackle hut proved there was nothing and no one else around but me, and the beginnings of the season’s first drifts of snow falling.
Staring off into the forest around me and just beyond, surrounded by ghostly white trees and their oddly colored foliage, I carefully picked my way back to the little pond in the clearing, plopping down heavily when I reached it. Also vacant.
“You can’t just leave me here like this! What am I to do?” I shouted, voice drifting on the wind. My voice cracked a little as I called out again and it was left unanswered. Shoulders slumping, I folded in on myself. “I’ve no one. He’s left me too.” In the bottom of my heart, I knew he’d left me. There was a swelling ache within me, as if to mirror emotions I wasn’t feeling myself—loss, sadness, loneliness, anger, pain, frustration—but shared in, all the same, as if to give proof. “You’re wrong, you know!” I shouted, wishing and hoping he heard. “You really are a coward! And a bloody horrible cad, too! And a big... fat... ugly... donkey’s arse! I hope you rot and all your, uh, good bits fall off! Not that, uh, they were all that good anyways!”
Flopped down by the edge of the small pond, I ripped out a clump of dirt, chucking it in with a loud splash. Tears started forming at the corners of my eyes and I blindly swiped them away.
I was a damned woman, and I knew it. “You know what? I don’t need you, then! See if I care! I don’t need any of you! Don’t need anyone!!”
Shoving off with my feet, I picked myself up, swiping my hands down the long, full cloak as I tromped my way back through the woods. The deeper I strode into the forest, the darker the early sky fell, clouds shifting over the sun in the gloomy sky.
“Good. Now it will match my mood.” It wasn’t so scary this time, tromping around in the woods. There was a darkness about the Lux, but in some ways, it was bathed in light.
Huffing under my breath as the leaves crunched between my floppy-booted feet, I came to a jerky halt when I saw smoke steadily streaming from the little hut’s small chimney. Approaching warily, ignoring the urge to rush inside, the door opened with a loud creak, no matter how careful I was to pry it open quietly.
Eyes narrowing uncertainly, I noted a pot on the fire, a wonderful smell drifting towards me from it, along with the warmth and warm glow emanating from the recently built fire. “If someone’s in here... I say, show yourself,” I called loudly.
No answer.
“Old woman? Troll?” And then, muttering under my breath, “You mangy assed, cowardly bastard.”
Fire steadily burning, mystery food cooking, the wind kicking up to rattle the roof were the only sounds to greet me.
Slamming the door shut with my foot, I sluggishly made my way over to the chair I’d sat in just last night, plopping into it heavily as I shook out of the winter cape.
“You can’t love me and leave me,” I grumbled defiantly, knocking the bubbling pot over with a swift kick to the bottom. It slammed into the back of the fire, a fierce blue flame crackling and sparking, little bits of magic dust sprinkling everywhere.
Just as I’d thought. More magic.
What good is magic in a ramshackle hut, if not to fix the hut? Just food and fire? Snorting, my head shook. Makes no sense to me. Nonsense.
“You don’t get to do this!” I snapped to the empty room. “You don’t get to... to have a say, Troll, if you’re not going to stick around!” And if this was his lovely mother at work, well. “You either, water lady! Butt the hell out!” No more magical anything for me, I thought wildly, scooping up my meager belongings to storm out of the room. I can’t trust anything anymore!
No one. Nothing.
How do I know that pot of stew wasn’t enchanted or poisoned?
My head shook as I went back to pick up the warm blue cloak, touched it, fingering its thick velvety softness, then thought better of it, letting it drop. It was hers. She could have done something to it.
No. No more magic for me.
Hand on the knob of the front door, my bed sheet, once forgotten by the straw bed I’d woke up on, now thrown haphazardly over my shoulders, fluttered in the ever cooling breeze.
Casting the crackling fire and the overturned pot in the seemingly empty room one last glance before I left, my eyes caught on a bright glint of fabric.
“Huh.” Unable to help myself, I made my way over to Niniane’s empty chair to get a better look, tipping it forward to let the large sack sitting in it fall, small but fat colorful bags, draw string coin purses in varying colors, tumbling out across the cold floor. “Oh, I, well... what...” About to huff, because, yes, it was yet again more of those stupid pouches, I marched over and kicked one. “You can’t buy me!” I shouted angrily, at nothing. “I won’t be anyone’s paid anything!” Ready to dismiss the damned things and chuck them into the fire as well, I saw it then, and heard it too—the tell-tale crinkle of parchment. On bended knee, I picked up the small scrap of paper fluttering, pinched between bags, carefully unfolding it, hands trembling at the familiar bold scrawl.
Toss them, nugget, and I’ll cripple you with them.
There was nothing else. Turning it over and over in my hand, a surprise bark of laughter escaped me. “Of course you wouldn’t put anything else, you bossy toad.” Disgusted at my stupid, feminine flight of fancy, wishing for a bit of substance where there was none, I tossed the paper aside, right into the fire.
Testing the weight of one of the heavy pouches in my hand, I scowled down at it. “No explanation. No choices for me. It’s do this, and do that, this is the way it is to be.” My whole damned life. “Do I ever have a say in anything?!” Don’t throw them, he said. If he didn’t care, why make sure I have the means to pay for things, to take care of myself? A small—maybe a tiny bit evil—dark smile lighting up my features, I chucked the bag, cackling when it burst wildly into flames, exploding into dust with a sharp snap and a poof.
Cocking my ear and waiting, I was slightly disappointed when nothing happened. Defiance filling me, I shrugged to myself as I carelessly tossed in all of the bags but one. Picking up the last one, I hesitated, thought better of it, and clutched it tight.
“Might actually need something,” I muttered, “I am going to have to make a go of this alone, after all.”
Hearth-less
Can’t say what had my feet turning towards the river, following along it for hours on end until I’d reached the old, rickety bridge, but there I went, and here I now stand.
It was home, to me, I suppose, considering.
Boots shifting as the boards beneath me groaned from the
extra weight, I shuffled my way up to the top, glancing around to take in everything. Still all alone.
The weather had yet to make up its mind, getting welcomingly warm as the day progressed, melting the newly fallen snow into slush and ankle wetting puddles of mud for me to slosh through, then back to cold and miserable. Thankfully, before night began to fall, just as I’d reached my destination and it started snowing again, I’d managed to keep the hem of my night dress from getting soaked, avoiding any more accidental mud splashings long enough for it to dry.
“What I wouldn’t give for a pair of pants or a decent dress,” I muttered as my teeth began to chatter. Closing my makeshift cloak around me tight, trying to seal in the warmth, I hunched down, lifting my sheet like a hood over my head, hoping to stave off the brunt of the wind.
Would he come? I wondered. If I sat here waiting for him?
No.
And why do I care, anyhow? He’s gone. Sent me away. That was clear enough, despite my thoughts to the contrary. He doesn’t want this anymore.
Did he ever, really, to begin with?
Again, no.
My mouth went dry and a wave of nausea rocked me. Breathing slowly, in and out through my nose, I tried to calm my roiling stomach. My hand went to my waist and I braced my free hand on the wobbly rail, opposite the one the other troll had broken and fallen off of. God. That felt like ages ago. My lips tipped up in a ghost of a smile at the memory of him tumbling into the river, madder than a wet hen, fit to be tied. Hadn’t that troll said as much to me? That Troll-
“Damn.” Running a hand over my face as the inevitable sting of the truth, reality at its finest, sucked me in, I squeezed my eyes shut, teeth clenched, and let it wash over me. Face it, Nugget, he wanted out, and he obviously found a way. He doesn’t want you anymore, never really did.
Maybe it was time I took the hint. “Tell that to these useless things,” I muttered, rolling my shoulders as I flicked one of the runes on my collarbone through my clothes. A sharp spark zapped me back and I yelped, shoving my arms around my waist protectively. “Can’t even have an opinion within, or erm, however it’s said, with myself, against myself, around here.” There was that tug again, pulling at me like an invisible string, nagging me to do something or go somewhere, but what? It was that same invisible touch, nudging and urging, that had me coming all this way. Or was it?
“This shouldn’t be happening. He should have just taken me back with him.” Back where? Here? To the bridge? And why, really? Why should he have? My foot kicked at a rotted slat. Because we’re bonded. Because I’m his.
Because... because he’s mine.
“The coward.” My foot knocked wood again. We should be- Wait. I had to shake my head. What am I even saying? When did I start down this path? When did I start thinking in terms of ‘we’, and not ‘me’? But I already knew the answer.
Since I’d had those dreams, since I ‘saw’, it felt as if I was slowly waking from a dream, a gentle awakening that helped clear the muddled messes in my mind, as well as peek into Troll’s. I see him now. The thought struck me hard. That really is why. I ‘see’ him.
‘You love her.’ Niniane’s shocked words whispered through me. As well as his own, all of them—every last one. He just wanted my body. Just sex, he’d more than admitted. Was it all just pretty words, what he’d whispered in the throes of passion, or deep in the pit of that prison? Or am I merely confusing dreams with reality? Staring down at my hands, growing pale and numb from the cold, I spread them out wide.
“What’s real anymore?” My heartbeat sped up, a slight throb in my temples coming on. How will he fix it? He’d seemed so sure—said he would. I had to force the question on myself. He never did say, and I dreaded to think what he’d do, if he hadn’t attempted it already.
We. Hah. How foolish of me. Maybe it’s the bond making him feel that way, and he resents it. Is that how it even works? I knew I was feeling it, and rather keenly, as well as his absence, short as that has been, but I’d had the stirrings of unacknowledged softening towards him even before the bond.
Perhaps he doesn’t wish to be a ‘we’.
My chest ached at he thought. He can’t fight the bond, hard as he wanted, and he very well couldn’t break it, I knew at least that much. How, then, could he do anything about it?
I’m just a stupid human, aren’t I? Falling for a cursed beast without a heart to love anyone with, even himself. “Heartless bastard. Lumbering, grating, swearing, disgruntled, uncouth...”
“Tis but broken. Mend it.” My skin pricked and an icy shiver kissed my spine. “Take the organ, keep it safe.”
“Niniane?” Stiffening, I sputtered, eyes darting around. They widened as her voice whispered on the wind, a few fluffy snowflakes kissing my face. “He doesn’t want me anymore.”
“Keep it safe... reap the fate...” Then she was silent, the whistle of the wind ringing hollowing as it whipped under the bridge.
“I believe his is quite safe, and untouched,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. “As well as the size of a bean!” Heartless wretch. “And I hope you’re happy now! I’m going to die now, because of you, and your son will go on his merry way!” I was beyond shouting, bellowing it out loud enough to echo all around me. Was that what it was? When the bonded dies and you can fight the pull long enough you’re free? “This is... that is... it’s just... poppy cock! And you aren’t supposed to be interfering anymore, you know!” My fist slammed into a plank of wood. “You swore. Yow! Shit!”
“And what did that poor old structure ever do to you, hmm?”
“What?” Leaning forward, I thought the voice was coming from under the bridge as it rang out across the rumbling current of the river. Wood creaked as I pressed my face between two slats, struggling to catch a glimpse from below.
“Over here, and to your left! Yes, that’s a girl. Don’t know why you’d look down below. Do I seem a fish to you? A merman, perhaps?”
Jumping with a startled gasp, I didn’t notice the tall, thin shouldered, springy haired red head towering over me until it was too late. Squawking in protest, I tucked and rolled to the side, his booted foot and quick thinking the only thing to save me from a rather nasty, frigid, partially-frozen-over river spill.
“May I join you? That is to say, I would love the pleasure of your company, Miss...?”
A gurgling sound was my response as I crab walked back a ways, I was so thoroughly stunned silent. Wouldn’t Troll be proud?
He had an odd outfit on that I couldn’t help but gape at—my uninvited acquaintance—his misshapen, muted grey, floppy brimmed hat at odds with his sharp, tight black pants, brand new looking, shiny black boots, gold earring dangling from one ear, and brightly colored sash fastened around his slim waist, just over his belt.
Slung across his chest, cross wise, was a funny leather bag, and it looked so familiar, but I couldn’t place from where. There was also a sword and a gun, both worn but in relatively good shape, fastened to the thick leather belt at his waist, to top it all off. A pirate from some silly ship captain’s tale if I’d ever been witness to one.
“What are you?” I found myself blurting, watching as he grinned, flashing a set of large, even white teeth as he flopped down next to me. For an instance I thought I saw something dancing in those eyes—recognition? Admiration, maybe?—but it was gone the next.
“I think you meant who, not what.” He winked and chuckled, his smile dying when I just stared up at him blankly.
A few more awkward moments passed.
“Alright, then,” clearing his throat aloud, I thought he muttered, “we’ll do it your way.’ Arms thrusting out, straightening the sleeves of his thick charcoal grey winter coat and long, fur-lined purple cloak, he instantly sobered, eyeing me evenly. “Last I perused?” His arms went wide, spreading up and out at his sides, fingers wiggling along with his well-shaped brows. “A man.” His deep voice was at odds with his silly get up, rail thin frame, and rather flamboyant personality, but I ea
sily reminded myself that first impressions, as well as looks, weren’t everything.
Meh. If he’s crazy, I’ll just push him in the river, I reasoned, ignoring this new, violent, protective side to myself. Survival instincts, I thought quietly, that’s all it is, nothing more. Merely wishing to survive.
Glancing down and taking in my own bedraggled appearance—a real sight for sore eyes—I shifted my sheet cloak closed tighter, wondering, what must he think of me?
“I say, you don’t talk much, do you?” That teasing grin was back, his soft blue eyes twinkling. “Name’s Bavol.” The overly friendly stranger thrust out his hand, angling it towards me for a proper shake. I jerked back reflexively, recoiling at his slight advance.
Eyeing me curiously, his hand fell and he took a huge step back to give me a bit of space. “Got a name, hmm? Or should I just call ya ginger?”
At my befuddled frown, he gestured to my hair, the bits escaping my hood to trail down the front glinting a dim orange in the waning light.
Tilting my head slightly to the side to study him, I gave him a good once over. “Do you mean to rob me?” I asked evenly, fingers tightening on my bag of coins, should I need to beat him soundly with them. Or, as I’d said previously, toss his bum in the river.
At the idea of him cozying up to me just to rob me blind or kill me, I saw red. As my jaw clenched, fingers fisted, my eyes flashed bright blue, the runes along my skin, safely hidden beneath my cloak, shimmered across my skin.
“What? No!” Shaking his head vigorously, this Bavol person, ripped off his hat, exposing a bright mop of blood red locks, sticking up at all ends around his head. “My lady, I assure you, I mean you no harm.”
“Then what do you want? Everyone always wants something.” And everything comes at a price.
“What makes you think I wish something of you?” Arching thick brows, his shoulders lifted in a carefree shrug as he settled himself a short distance away. Wiggling his bum to get more comfortable, his legs swung back and forth over the edge, one on either side of slats holding up the bridge’s railing, reminding me more of a small boy than a grown man.
The Toll Page 32