The Toll (7 page)

Glancing around, I turned back to find
my father watching me, swallowing thickly as he walked up to me and
led me to his horse, offering me his hand to help me get up.
Surprised at the generous gesture, I smiled gratefully, graciously
accepting his proffered assistance.

“
Up you go,” he mumbled
distractedly.

Papa’s hands were warm, despite how
thin they were, and I felt like a little girl again, like when he
used to take me for rides when I was young.

“
Thank you, Papa,” I
whispered as he mounted and settled himself in front of me. Papa
froze and stared straight ahead, head dipping as he sat up a little
straighter, back stiff, urging the horse on as we started
off.

“
You’re, uh, you’re
welcome, child,” he said finally, but his voice sounded strange and
strangled.

Oh, no. He must think this
won’t work either.
Wishing to give him
strength, comfort him somehow, I gave his back a little pat,
pleased when he accepted it. It was a rare thing for the two of us,
since he wasn’t much, like Mamma, for shows of
affection.

“
Don’t worry, Papa,” I
assured him, lying through my even, white teeth, “We’ll get her
back.” Lifting it from my lap, I shook the bag Mamma had handed me.
“The jewels in here are surely tempting, I’d wager.”

“
I’m… I’m sure they are,
sweet. I’m sure they are.”

****

As we got closer,
only a few more minutes
,
Papa had promised, I had a moment of panic.
What if he says no? What if it’s not enough? Would anything
ever be, considering what he wants?

“
Will he be agreeable to
the trade, do you think?” I wondered aloud.

Papa took a long time in answering.
“If it can see the gem within, I’m sure it will,” he offered
cryptically.

“
Gems,” I corrected,
cradling the sack of priceless family heirlooms, the only ones we
possessed, to my chest.

Flesh Of My Flesh

Papa stopped suddenly, and I glanced
around, wide-eyed.

“
Are we here?” I couldn’t
help the quiver in my voice. Having a good look around, I had to
question it, wondering if maybe Papa had just stopped for a spell,
or maybe we were lost. All I could see was a rickety old bridge and
a river below it. A muddy embankment, covered with small bits of
grass, dotted with tall reeds, was spread out along before us in
either direction.

It was gloomy and muddy, muddier than
the stuff I’d traipsed through to get to Papa the other night, and
the air had an eerie quality to it, like the thick mist surrounding
us, enveloping us like a dampened sheet, warning us to go
back.

Oh, how I wanted nothing more than to
turn around and run, but I wouldn’t.

I glanced at the river again, the rise
and fall as the water went from a steady trickle, babbling quietly,
to thunderous, crashing thwacks and splashes down towards the
opposite end, as if it couldn’t get itself moving fast enough past
that crumbling, creaking structure. My eyes strayed down the
stretch of it, idly wondering if it kept raging on and on, or
settled down to a steady trickle, like the opposite end had started
out. I couldn’t tell, but it looked as if it went on forever, never
ending.

Papa grunted in answer, “This is it.”
Dismounting, he hopped down on wobbly legs, and once again gave me
his hand, of which I took, and he helped me down.

Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot,
Papa pointed towards the bridge. “It’s just under there,
Daphedaenya, just beyond that thicket of weeds
underneath.”

I followed his finger and my lips
parted in astonishment.

“
Underneath
the bridge?” I mumbled through thick lips. I had
to swallow past the catch in my throat.
I
have to go under there?

Stupid to think a bridge
troll would live any place else, but still, silly me, the idea
that
I’d
have to
do it was boggling me.

My eyes widened and I turned to Papa,
but he’d already mounted and was turning his horse
around.

“
Wait!” Picking up my
skirts, the bag clutched in my hand, I ran towards him, tempted to
try and hop back on. “But… Papa, wait! You’re leaving?”

“
I’m not allowed to
return,” he explained without explaining. “He threatened to
disembowel me if I did. Take care, my Daphie.” His voice was hoarse
as he called out my name, and that was all he offered before he
took off.

Watching him go, I stood
there, dumbfounded, until I couldn’t see him hurrying off into the
distance any more, his coat flapping in the cold breeze.
He threatened to disembowel my papa? And they
want me to go have a little chat with him?
Not for the first time since reaching adulthood, I had to
question my parents’ sanity, and my own for that matter, knowing I
was still going to do it.

Terrified, but willing to see this
through, I slowly made my way to the bridge, my feet squishing
wetly through a wealth of mud and rocks that seemed to sprout up
out of nowhere, my sinking boots sucking wetly as I yanked them up,
one foot at a time, trudging towards the bottom of the lone,
rickety bridge, catching them on small rocks and pebbles mixed
within.

I had to question my father’s sanity
once more as I went ‘round to the right, peering underneath the
bottom of the unsound framework, finding only wobbly beams that
looked so decrepit I thought they might come tumbling down at any
given moment, and a hastily speeding past, abundance of murky river
water. And mold, yes, lots of musty, damp, stink ridden mold—can’t
forget that.

Chagrined and feeling slightly duped,
I pulled my head back, wiping river muck off on the back of my
cape.

Heading back—to where, I
didn’t know—
I can’t go home right now,
they’d just send me right back
—a sound
caught my attention and I paused, trying to track it.

A muffled cry, but not just any
muffled cry.

Hand slapping up to my
face, I gasped, ecstatic, “Oh!”
It was
Otvla!

Before I’d thought better of it, I ran
around to the other side, ignoring the thickening black goop that
was making its way inside my boots and into my stockings, soaking
my already numb toes.

A light shone from the left side of
the underside of the bridge, and my eyes widened, hands coming
around to grip the wood of it as I peeked around
cautiously.

Otvla came into view and I gasped,
slapping my hand over my mouth to muffle it. She saw me too,
though, and started shouting out my name.

“
Daphedaenya!” she cried,
rattling the sturdy bars of her swinging prison, “Daphie! Oh,
you’ve come! I knew you’d come!”

She babbled some more nonsense,
something about saviors and beasts, but I was distracted, taking
everything in. She looked surprisingly well, I noticed, her dress,
face and hands covered in a thick, black soot, but still in one
piece, and still very much Otvla.

Her pretty, golden brown locks hung in
dirty clumps about her head, full of twigs and other unidentified
plant life, as opposed to their pristine, perfectly kempt state at
home, her pouty lips dried and cracked—a stark contrast to their
typically soft pink appearance—but other than that there wasn’t a
scratch on her.

“
Oh, Daphedaenya! You’ve
come!” she crowed, and if I wasn’t so happy to see her I would have
clobbered her.

“
Shhh!” I hushed, but I had
no delusions that the troll hadn’t discovered me by now.
Gee, thanks, sis, why don’t you paint him a sign
that says, ‘She’s right here, ya lummox’?

Already found out and mustering up
some courage I didn’t really feel, I straightened up and stiffened
my spine, walking stiffly into view. The sight before me shocked
me, my eyes taking in everything around me in unhindered
amazement.

“
But how?” I mumbled as I
took in the cave-like dwelling I now stood in front of, a large
fire roaring and crackling as it heated the large space, set
farther back.

There were beautiful tapestries
covering the naked rock walls, brightly colored murals telling
vivid stories, all intricately woven, carefully crafted by hand,
and chests full of jewels lay opened and untouched, setting out,
right out in the open for all to see, just waiting for someone to
pluck them up and take them home.

“
Let me out! Let me out!”
she shrieked, rocking her cage further, toppling over when it swung
violently to the side and caught on the wall. The bars were made of
thick metal, probably iron, and she yelped as her head smacked
against one. “Help me!” she wailed, rubbing the back of her scalp.
“Daphie! I want to go home!!”

“
Shut it!!!” a booming
voice roared, the troll Trystan had warned me about lumbering
slowly into view.

My whole body vibrated with the
echoing of his bellow throughout the deep, well lit space. At first
sight of him, I couldn’t help but tremble in place. He was huge,
wider than he was tall, though he was enough at that, his hands
almost brushing the dirt floor when he moved, his arms were so
long; and they were thick, as was the rest of him. He had mottled
grey skin, strange, raised markings covering the skin visible
through the ratty old tatters of clothing remnants that covered his
hard grey body.

The troll hadn’t seen me yet, his
focus solely on Otvla, but I sure did get more than an eyeful of
him. I was completely surprised he hadn’t noticed me, seeing as to
how loud she’d been, practically sounding an alarm.

“
Dunno why I havena gotten
rid of ye yet,” he growled, punching the bottom of her cage, “yer
nothin’ but a bleedin’ pain in my arse, ye is. Stupid wench.
Blasted thievin’ humans. Shoulda just given ya ta one of the
Others, collected meself a good price an’ been done wit’
ya.”

She let out a plaintiff wail, but
slapped a hand over her mouth at the blistering look he gave
her.

Lips pulling back, he growled,
annoyed, and it looked like he might do it again—punch her cage.
“Scare ye, then, does it?” As I’d expected, he did, chuckling at
the terrified look on her face.

“
Please don’t do that,” I
croaked out, hoping my voice came out a lot stronger than I knew it
didn’t.

Roaring in maybe surprise or shock,
being caught completely off guard, the beastly creature whirled
around and crouched down.

Before I knew what was happening, he
had me pinned to the wall, his hand wrapped tightly around my
throat.

“
Who trespasses?” he
snarled in my face, and I thought my head might explode if my heart
didn’t burst.

Otvla made a small plaintive noise,
her lips trembling as she watched helplessly, unable to do
anything.

“
I do,” I got out in a
choked whisper, wrapping my fingers around his huge paw of a hand,
gripping it and tugging to try and get him to loosen his grip, even
if it was just enough to catch my breath.

He didn’t.

Leaning forward, face a mask of
menace, he sniffed at me loudly and his brows pulled down. His nose
was wide and flat, complimenting his thick lips and wide mouth as
he snuffled at me some more and finally inhaled deeply, very much
reminding me of a dog Papa once had.

A rumbling growl of discontent bubbled
up out of him, and I thought I might relieve myself, right there in
front of Otvla, the troll, God, and everyone.

His eyes were what scared me the most,
though, as he regarded me, above everything else, staring into mine
intently, the deep orange of them like twin flames burning into
mine, a life all their own.

“
You smell of sweat an’
sex,” he grumbled, his voice gravelly, too gravelly, menacingly
deep and low.

There was a hint of curiosity to his
statement that I didn’t particularly care for, but I didn’t dare
voice it out loud.

I was certain, right then, if I wasn't
already going to die by his hand of asphyxiation, I would have died
of horrified mortification, all on my own from that little
observation alone.

“
What be ye name, ye
nugget?” he demanded, eyeing me up and down curiously as I turned
an unnatural shade of purple.

“
Please,” I mouthed, my
voice gone, “you’re choking me.”

“
A name?” he bellowed, his
grip tightening fractionally.

Darkness spread over me
quickly and I saw spots dancing in my vision.
So, this is how I’m to end?
I
wondered.
Death by troll.

“
It’s Daphedaenya!” Otvla
blurted out. “Daphedaenya! That’s her name! Now stop it! She can’t
breathe, you beastly thing! You’re killing her!”

The troll frowned and glanced over at
Otvla. “Ye be a liar, so shut it.” He turned back to me, scowling
fiercely, letting go of my neck to stand back.

His thick, banded arms crossed over
his chest, the straining, rope-like muscles moving sinuously with
the motion as I choked and gasped desperately for
breath.