The Toll

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The Toll Page 38

by Jeanette Lynn

Lips thinning, Addie stared down at her nails, clearing her slender throat delicately. “Suit yourself.”

  “And, yes, I’ve a craving for milk, I’m with child, and I intend to indulge my appetites.” Glaring over my shoulder at Addie, daring her to argue, she tossed her hands up—a sign of surrender.

  “Go. Milk away, then.” With a flick of her wrist, she waved me off. “Just don’t have that babe doing it.”

  “Thank you.” Instantly settling, as far as she could tell, I smiled as I opened the door, forcing my shoulders to relax. “Glad you approve. And, hey, maybe it will make that witch’s brew smell better,” I tossed over my shoulder.

  “Does that mean you’ll drink it?” Addie shot back.

  Her insistence with her drinks had never struck me as odd before, but they did now.

  “I’ll do you one better.” Plucking it up, I waggled it at her and cupped it in my hands, dutifully carrying it out with me.

  “I’ve been giving you that particular concoction all week,” she admitted on a blurt, propping her chin on her hand as she put her elbows up on the table, turning enough so she could face me.

  That had me stopping dead in my tracks. “What?”

  Nodding slowly, she pulled a small pouch out of her dress pocket, giving it a quick pat. “You were having pains, and I was worried you’d deliver before you were ready.”

  Ready? Somehow the way she said it made me think it didn’t mean what my initial interpretation had heard it as. “You put things in my food without my permission?” I couldn’t believe it, I just couldn’t. Where were my stupid warning signs for that? She’d been dosing me, and I hadn’t a clue!

  “No, and only a pinch, in your tea. Tis no different than if I were to give you something for sickness or nausea.” With a wave of her hand, she gestured to the cup in mine, my other clenched over my rounded belly. “That one, though, is stronger.”

  I’d been having pains lately... was it because her herbs had done something to me? Was it hurting my baby?

  “But you’d asked me prior, and I’d given consent. Addie... how could you? You could have...” Hurt my child!

  Addie looked truly perplexed. “Why are you looking at me like that? You’d think I just stabbed Brevin.”

  “You tricked me, and you lied to me!” Possibly poisoned me, as well as my babe! My shout made her jump, toppling over the small cup filled with flowers in the middle.

  We both stared at one another, in a bit of a standoff, the steady ‘drip-drip’ of the water trickling down the side of the table and right onto the worn wooden floor ticking along with my jaw.

  Turning the cup in my hand upside down as she gaped at me, I watched it splatter all over the floor, splashing the hem of my dress, mixing with the water rolling towards me from the flower spill.

  “Petty!”

  “Adamina!”

  “What are... Why... What did you do that for?”

  “I don’t like liars, and I don’t trust this.” Tossing it, the mug thunked and shattered on the wall just past Addie’s head.

  Ducking, she shrieked, thinking I’d meant to throw it at her, instead of just beyond.

  “Hey! That was a warming gift!” She barked, incensed, teeth gnashing as she flew into a tizzy. “I made that for you!”

  “To poison me!” My voice was hard and steely, jaw clenched tight, teeth gritted. It fell over me, my anger, smothering me almost maddeningly.

  Addie’s eyes widened, deep amber irises flashing with green one second, then gone in a moment.

  Shock and recognition hit me at once and I stumbled back, slamming into the wall behind me. Heart slamming my chest, throat tight in dawning horror, I whispered, “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  Lifting a fisted hand to my lips to bite at it, my teeth dug in, hoping to keep myself from screaming. How did I not see it before?

  “See what before?”

  Realizing too late I must have spoken aloud, I just shook my head, backing towards the door slowly. Words dried up, on the tip of my tongue, strangling me as they stuck in my throat.

  Uneasiness slid across Addie’s face and she slowly got to her feet. “Petty...”

  “No use in playing dumb anymore,” I spluttered, hands shaking, scrambling back. “I-I know!”

  Addie blinked uncertainly and her face cleared. “Petty, I-”

  “You know that’s not my name!” Sharp, like the crack of a whip, my voice shot across the sparsely furnished room. Runes humming across my skin, tingling across my shoulders, neck and chest, vibrating with the low dipped hum of unspent power. Loads of it, since I rarely tapped into it.

  Feigning innocence, trying to play the injured party, she quickly glanced away. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Though she really did sound confused, I’d already seen the proof.

  Stabbing a hand at the dark tea staining the floor, I demanded, “What was in that tincture?”

  “Just dried herbs.” Hands out pleadingly, she took a few small steps towards me. “Why do you-”

  “No!” My hand shot out and sparks sizzled from my wrists, eyes blazing blue, warding her off.

  She immediately backed up, eyes wide and terrified. “Oh! Your eyes! Petty... I don’t understand... You’re acting stran-” Foot sliding forward, she attempted to edge closer.

  Sparks danced from my hand again. “Just... stay away!”

  She edged back, crouching down a little, as if to somehow make herself smaller. “Petty-”

  “I said stop!” I bellowed. “Stay away from me! Zeme!” Slapping my hands at my sides, never taking my eyes off the Earth Elemental, I snatched the first thing my hand closed around—the fancy poker for the fire. It was one of the few things left perfectly intact in the whole place from the previous owner. It had also been covered in old, dried blood, thus its spot, even after a good scrubbing, by the door. Swinging it around wildly in front of me, enough to startle Earth into ramming back into the table to escape it—me—I shoved the door open wide, slowly edging my way out. “You can’t have my baby! He’s mine!”

  “I don’t want your child, I-” With a long sigh, Zeme let out an irritated growl and dropped her guise.

  Gone was the slender, dark skinned Adamina, in her place was the beautiful, glowing, otherworldly Gaia, Mother Nature in the flesh.

  “No. No.” My head shook violently. “I don’t want to know.”

  Zeme’s stern expression melted, weariness seeping through. “They’re coming, and despite what you must think, we only want to help.”

  Oh, that didn’t sound good, and who the hell is they? Aren’t they the ‘they’?

  No. Don’t believe it! It’s a trick! I was warring with myself. But what if it’s not? Gah!

  “Help me? Hah! Did Niniane tell you to say that?” I spat the words at her, filled with vitriol.

  “Niniane doesn’t know of our presence, my dealings have long ended with her.”

  “Our?”

  Pleading in her eyes, she entreated quietly. “Bearers aren’t always involved in their mortal get, not anymore, or their get’s offspring. It is... too much. It is hard to explain ourselves to mortals, harder, even then, to grow attached, only to watch them age and die.” Rubbing a hand along her forehead, brushing a long, wavy lock away from her face, she closed her eyes, as if to find the right words, or patience, and continued. “We are not ones to... we do not let go so easily.” Swirling eyes meeting mine, filled with some unnamed emotion, she smiled sadly. “I saw no fault in Fire’s decision. The Fates took away our ability to pass our immortality on to our children. Punishment for Niniane’s misdeeds, I assume.” Her head shook, upsetting the perfectly done wavy lengths filled with leaves and small bits of crisp, green grass, shimmering with bits of glittering pyrite. “I don’t know. This was the only way.”

  “Troll has power,” I argued, snorting in dismissal. “Try again.” Shoulders tense, I rolled my neck, the slow cracking as I shifted from side to side taking some of the te
nsion out of my spine.

  “Your Troll is cursed.” A small smile lifted the corners of her full lips as his name rolled easily off her tongue, foreign but welcome, as if she thought my name for him sweet or endearing.

  Not so much, but I felt no need to correct the misconception.

  Eyes narrowing to little blue slits, my hands gripped the fire poker so tight my knuckles ached. “And what is that supposed to mean to me?”

  “Once Niniane’s meddling was known, I gave Phaestus my word I’d help. He does not wish to stand by and idly watch as one of his kin meets a bad end. He... cares.”

  Oh? Where was this supposed magical kin to me the better part of my life? Or does one only intervene when it means they might meet a bad end, hmm? I really wanted to know. “Did he care when I was-w-w-was-” My voice stuttered to a stop. Did he care when I was attacked? Where was someone then?

  Zeme’s eyes lit a brilliant green, vines glowing from her luminous locks, curling up and around her shapely limbs. “If the Fates had not intervened,” she intoned darkly, “the spineless fool would have met a far greater end.”

  It was too much. Just... too much. No. “I want you to leave.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Of course you can.” My arm swept the entryway, offering her passage. Leave now, and never come back. My message was quite clear, body language screaming, ‘Get the hell out, now!’ “I was just about do it myself. Not all that hard, you see?” Condescending sarcasm was my hooded cloak, scathing condemnation my scythe, grim as a reaper as I glowered over at her darkly, pain and anger in my eyes, stiffening my expression, ordering her, in every way possible, to leave.

  Zeme shook her head, and again, “I can’t.”

  “Fine!” I refused to stand here a moment longer. “Then I will!” Whirling around, eyes still blazing, I marched into the yard.

  “They are coming for you!” She shouted from inside.

  Who? I had no idea. But, one thing I knew for sure, I’d had no more need of her honeyed lies. She’d say just about anything, wouldn’t she? The offspring of the offspring of an Elemental? Pfft! And who was his get? Papa? Mamma? Grandad? Hah! I think not.

  “You are not ready! The curse! Think on it, Phedaenya! You cannot forsake a bond, there is always a toll!”

  “I forsook nothing,” I whispered, swiping angry tears from my eyes. “And that’s not my name!” My voice lifted to a shout. “Now, be gone! I wish to be rid of you!”

  “You can’t mean that! Think of the babe!” Her voice was growing desperate, pleading.

  I kept walking. It didn’t affect me in the least. I’d hardened towards her. She’s one of them.

  That’s exactly who I was thinking of—my babe—she could have harmed him with her trickery.

  A low, pained sound uttered from inside the house, as if the house itself was groaning, and the earth rocked hard enough I barely kept my footing, a surge of power following the tremor. Reaching out, I grasped the side and held on. Gritting my teeth, my grip tightened as small cracks and furrows sprouted up everywhere under the ground’s fierce rumble, shuddering beneath my feet.

  Once all was settled, there was a stillness in the air, pricking my skin. A thin layer of grey, misty dust floated all around, the smell of wet earth and dried leaves tickling my nose. Thicker than fog, soup-like and swirling, magic hummed all around me. Creeping up to the window I’d opened earlier, I carefully, cautiously peeked inside.

  Zeme had opened a giant hole in the middle of my little house, eyes blazing as she glared down into it. “I will leave if you wish,” her eyes wouldn’t meet mine, “but you will be vulnerable.” She never once looked up as she spoke, but I could see the effort that cost her, casting her face into the shadows.

  Despite my heart dipping slightly, unconsciously softening towards her, I wouldn’t be played again. Never again. “I’ve made it this far without you.”

  Gaze finally lifting, liquid pools of gold, simmering with emerald flecks, slowly met mine. “Did you?” she murmured, a hard edge seeping in, the corners of her mouth tightening perceptibly.

  “Before you go,” I hesitated, but only for a moment, “did the tincture hurt my baby? Will... will he be alright?”

  “Yes.”

  Eyeing her evenly, I hoped she spoke true.

  “Are you so certain,” she murmured quietly, “that the child is his?”

  I didn’t bother to play stupid. What would be the point? “I don’t.”

  Taking a deep breath, she twisted at the waist, flowing skirts following in her wake, gold eyes melting to warm, glowing green. “I will go, as you’ve dismissed me and I must follow the rules, but you mustn’t stay here. Leave now. It isn’t safe. That babe isn’t safe.”

  A long moment passed between us as we stared each other down. Keeping a straight face that gave nothing away, my head dipped towards hers slightly. “Thank you for your warning, but I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “You’ll be the judge of his end.” Face darkening, a flash of pain shot across her lovely face before she dropped into the small crater, disappearing as it closed over her, swallowing her whole.

  Which he? I thought, in a panic. Dizziness slapping me, cold dread suffused me. The thought of the loss of either, Troll or my babe, had me sick to my stomach.

  Blanching, I fell to my knees, moaning quietly as another pain wracked me. Leaves crumpled and rocks and mud dug into my knees, a sharp pain striking my middle. No. No. No. Not now! This can’t be it. Contrary to my wishes, I knew what was happening, whether I wanted to admit it or not.

  “Brevin!” I called. “Brevin!”

  Brevin came racing around the corner moments later, wide-eyed, thin faced, and all sharp, bony angles.

  “Missus! Did you feel that? I- Oh, missus.” Rushing to help, he slipped my arm over his shoulder, his slender frame slowly hefting me up.

  Brevin assisted me to the house, where I tried to lay on my side, curled up, eyes squeezed shut tight, hands fisted tight, as if to shut out the pain, reality quickly creeping in.

  Fearful of Zeme’s premonition, the pains only growing stronger by the minute, now on for the better part of three hours, worse for the last since she’d left, I had Brevin fetch me what little was left in the pot of tea Mother Earth had made, tossing it back in one long swallow.

  Ignoring my senses screaming at me not to, I’d finished every last drop, hoping I hadn’t just made the biggest mistake.

  Into The Thick Of It

  It was nearing dark as I set out, Brevin persistent he escort me as far as Grotwitt slough, promising to watch over my little house in Benecke until I was fit enough to return. Aitziber was eagerly stomping his feet, uneasiness filling him, mimicking my own.

  Dark descended on us much faster than we’d anticipated, my sluggish pace necessary as I trotted, pain wrapping around my middle, lessening since the tea but still present, making every plodding step excruciating.

  A niggle, like a foreign sense of pain, not quite my own—a deep seated fear—hit me hard, almost unseating me.

  “We have to stop.”

  Taking the reins from me, Brevin quickly led the fidgety stallion to a small, grassy spot surrounded by wispy willows, tying Aitziber to one before rushing around to drop to all fours, offering his body as a step for me to use.

  “Brevin, just help me down.”

  “I am,” he insisted, making me laugh, then groan because I laughed, as he waggled his hips and slapped his back. “Now hurry up, before you have your youngin’ on that horse, missus.”

  Feeling as if I might faint, overriding my own embarrassment, I reluctantly accepted his help.

  The second my feet touched the ground, he wrapped a twig of an arm around my waist, assisting me further to the small copse of trees.

  “Thank you,” I panted, clutching my cumbersome burden as it roiled, rolling around restlessly.

  Little head bobbing so fast it made my head spin, he turned and scrambled back. “I’ll be back,” he sa
id quickly, “don’t move,” disappearing behind the rows of weeping willows camouflaging us.

  “Not a problem.” A humorless laugh escaped me and I squeezed my eyes shut tight. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  A few more of those pains, heavy in my back, sharp once they made their way around my middle, drawing up my stomach, lasted longer and longer, closer together, coming and going swiftly, passing in quick succession, before I heard the crunch of leaves underfoot.

  “Brevin,” I moaned, “I hope you aren’t squeamish.” When he didn’t answer, I tried for smile, ending up with a hard grimace. This is nothing a little boy should have to see. “I know this isn’t the way either of us had intended, but I think this is happening. Today.” Right now! I wanted to shout, hissing through my teeth as I tried to remember to breathe.

  “Brevin’s busy,” a deep, condescending voice muttered as two large, dark shadows fell over me. “Think we’ll be takin’ over from here.”

  I knew that voice.

  As my eyes shot open wide, I screamed, two glowing sets of eyes, two swirling with a million shades of purple, the other blood red, bored into mine, a long length of cloth held out in front of them, coming towards me.

  Thinking they meant to strangle my bum, I kicked out when they would have tossed it over my head, a pain filled cry slipping past my lips as I rolled, stumbling to my feet in a futile attempt to escape them. It just made everything that much worse—excruciating. This can’t be happening to me!

  “NO!” A bellow escaped when another pain shot through me, hard and fast, bringing me to my knees. Hands braced out in front of me, a soft cry and a harsh sob croaked from my throat, and I fell to my side. Clutching at my stomach as it hardened, my skirt having ridden up, the stench of fear and sweat, of iron, rolling off of me in waves, grew suffocating when my hands came away from my clenched hem sticky.

  “What’s that now?” A rumbling bass whispered from behind me.

  “Smell blood,” the voice from the troll I’d had the distinct displeasure to meet at the bridge before barked out.

  “Blood?” The iron I’d smelled! “Oh, god, the baby.” I knew there was wetness, but I was sweating from head to toe, perspiration drenching my clothes. A quick rush of wetness, trickling down my thighs on my next set of pains, and I knew. “It’s time. It’s now! Ah. Please, please! I beg you! I need Brevin! I need... I need help!”

 

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