The Toll (47 page)

“
Ahhhh!” screaming bloody
murder, I shot up, my hands slapping to my sweat dampened chest,
running all over my body to make sure I was well and truly alive.
Letting out a startled shout, I glanced down, blinking stupidly at
the clothes I’d fallen asleep in. Plucking at a sleeve, I grimaced.
They were soaked to the bone. “What... Where? What?” Head snapping
about, my eyes darted around, chest still heaving as I gasped in
huge gulps of air, taking in the lumps of hay and a ratted blanket
underneath me, comprising the makeshift bed I’d slept
in.

The room smelled stale and slightly
moldy, an old, musty, acrid mildew scent permeating the air. There
was a crack in the window over my head, little slits of sunlight
streaming in, blinding me with their intense light.

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.