The Toll (14 page)

“
Just take it an’ get the
hell outta me sight, before I change me mind.”

Don’t have to tell me
twice.
I spun around and headed for the
lip of the cavern, giggling to myself as I took my first step into
soggy, muddy soil.

“
Willna be coddlin’ ye if
yer a slobberin’, blubberin’ mess, ye know!”

“
Who sounds worried now?”
Lips quirking, I smirked and trudged my way to the top of the small
rocks lining the path, signaling the beginning of a man made dirt
road.

“
Careful what ye wish for,
nugget!” he bellowed to my retreating back.

Undeterred, I flicked my hand back and
forth over my head in his direction.

He grunted and started mumbling to
himself before he lumbered back under his bridge.

My heart was too full and
my excitement too great, not giving his admonishment another
thought. I grinned the whole way, the darkness not an issue for me
anymore. I’d already met the boogey man, I’m indebted to
him—
according to him and his smarmy troll
mouth—not me.
The bogies in the night,
bumping and creaking, this way and that, were nothing more than a
lullaby now—a serenade, since living under a rickety bridge/mystery
cavern with a perpetually disgruntled troll with a hoarding
problem.

Those ghoulies?
Fake. They couldn’t harm me any more than I could
harm them. The feeling, along with the elation at the idea of
returning home, was freeing.

Home Sweet Home

It was early morning by the time I
reached the small, well-kept cottage I called home, and the little
stone I still carried had stopped glowing as the sun had
risen.

Sliding the smooth rock into my dress
pocket, home came into view. I couldn’t remember when I’d ever seen
a prettier sight.

Just the thought,
I’m home,
made the whole
place seem bigger somehow, taller, grander, better in some
undefinable way.

It was the same as always,
yet somehow more. Solid and made of sturdy wood and brick, all the
cracks and crevices that would have let the outside world in having
been filled and refilled, packed and repacked, as time went on,
were all still there, and very much a welcomed sight.
Home.

Papa had always done well to keep up
with it. The thickly thatched roof never leaked for too long, and
never more than a slow, steady drip-drip a decent pot could
catch.

My legs carried me up the long stretch
of dirt road that led to the cobble stone path that, as it so
happened, also led right up to our front doorstep, fresh green
grass from all the rain we’d been having recently leaving a trail
of brand new, newly grown emerald green sproutlets popping up all
along it.

I almost skipped up the last few
steps, my boots clacking noisily as my heels hit the cobbled walk.
It felt so odd to me now, wearing shoes for any given length of
time. I’d gotten used to running around without them as the weather
had warmed considerably, and I almost missed the feeling of warmed
earth under naked feet.

Pressing my hands lovingly along the
old wooden front door, I didn’t knock before I entered, assuming it
was still safe to say home was still home.

Mamma and Papa, it would seem, had
just sat down at the old wobbly legged table we always ate meals
at.

A creak from the door as I shut it
quietly behind me, immediately alerted them to my presence, and
their heads shot up. As their eyes widened, I smiled a little,
bubbling with happiness at seeing their wrinkle-lined, thin faces
again.

The identical looks on their shocked
faces, however, didn’t quite match the smile that fell from
mine.

Hands clasped calmly in front of me, I
swallowed nervously as they just stared, their lips parted, eyes
wide, and I found myself shifting nervously, listing about
restlessly from side to side on aching feet.

In my excitement and rush to get back,
I had been running, and or sprinting, almost the whole way here,
and I was sure the aching in the heels and arches of my feet would
surely have a blister or two to match.

“
Well,” I mumbled weakly,
“I’ve come all this way to see you... I’ve missed you both
terribly. Practically ran the whole way. Uhm, aren’t you at least
going to say hello?”

“
He... hello,” Mamma
blurted, her face more paper white than usual, clutching her
breakfast plate like she thought at any moment it might hop up and
fly away.

Papa got up and hobbled around the
table, favoring his right leg as he walked right up to me and
slowly reached his hands out.

What had happened to his
leg?
I wondered.

His old, faded blue eyes studied my
face searchingly as his fingers slowly reached out to touch my
cheeks, the cool feel of those familiar bony fingers making my
smile instantly return.

“
You’re here,” Papa
whispered, his voice choking on a soft sob as he yanked me to his
chest with a surprising show of strength, wrapping his arms around
me tight. “Oh, Daphie... sweet,” he cried into my shoulder quietly,
clutching me to him tight, like he feared I might run off if he let
go. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

Wrapping my arms around him, I hugged
him back, shedding a few tears of my own.

“
I’m here, Papa,” I
murmured soothingly, smoothing his frizzy, faded orange hair down
around the crown of his head. “I’m here.”

Papa pulled back after a long moment
and quickly swiped his shirt sleeve across his eyes, as if to hide
the evidence of his unruly emotions.

“
So you got away, then?” he
asked after a moment. “You bested the troll?”

With only a slight hesitation, I
joined them at the table and shook my head.

“
No, I, uh, sort of bought
some time for myself.”

“
Bought yourself some
time?” Mamma echoed, fidgeting and blinking
uncomprehendingly.

Papa’s shoulders fell and he seemed to
whither in his seat.

“
A trade,” I explained, my
fingers unerringly moving to my neck where my locket used to be. “I
made a deal with him and he gave me a week.”

“
A week? And what do you do
when the week is through? Does he come for you, then?” Papa asked,
faded blue eyes meeting mine.

Unable to meet them, mine darted away.
“Well, when the week is through… then I have to go
back.”

“
For how long?” Papa leaned
forward on his elbows and rubbed at his temples. “How long do you
have until he lets you go, child?”

“
Nathem, don’t badger the
poor thing, she looks dead on her-”

Papa gave Mamma a dark look until her
mouth clacked shut and she looked away, returning his eyes to meet
mine.

He tried to, anyways, but I found mine
couldn’t always quite keep with his, his steady gaze unwavering. It
unsettled me, and uncertainty was already creeping in. Every time
he looked at me, like he was seeing more than he liked, I felt a
bit of shame for myself, a sliver of pity. Maybe it was just me
recognizing what he felt for me, I realized, and I was just
mirroring it onto myself.

Papa’s piercing gaze finally fell away
from clearer blue one when I whispered, “I don’t.”

“
What do you mean, you
don’t? You don’t what?” Papa’s lips pulled down at the corners,
pinched and white.

Mamma’s eyes welled up as she grabbed
her napkin and started wringing it to death in her hands, Papa’s
words setting her off. She knew exactly what I’d meant, tears
slowly sliding down her cheeks.

They both knew what I’d
meant—
how could you
not?—
even if Papa wasn’t ready to accept
it yet.

My mouth felt dry as I bit my lip and
murmured, “I have to stay there forever.

“
Bull shit!”

Jerking simultaneously, Mamma and I
both jumped, startled at the uncharacteristic outburst from Papa as
he slammed his fist down onto the table, the dishes rattling,
shifting in the cupboards in his wake.

There was a sudden, rapid knock on the
door, and Mamma hopped up to get it.

“
I’ll get it,” she muttered
hastily, “must be Betty Rickins with the milk she promised me. Gave
her a dozen eggs just yesterday…”

We both ignored her quiet babbling as
I watched Papa, clenching his frail looking long hands into balled
fists on the worn table top.

“
Mamma,” I heard a
familiar, whiny voice, “what do you mean it’s not a good
time?”

Mamma said something in a hushed
whisper and then I heard a responding gasp.

“
Oh, she’s here? Really?”
Never one to turn down an opportunity to snoop, Otvla pushed her
way past Mamma and waltzed right into the room.

Her eyes scanned the sparse space
until they rested on me. “Daphie! Oh, I thought you’d be
dead.”

“
Otvalena!” Papa snapped,
and my eyes widened. “That is your sister,” he went on, “she made a
great sacrifice for you and this is how you repay her?” The harsh
clip in my father’s voice, and on my behalf, no less, both shocked
and surprised me.

Otvla’s eyes widened and she bowed her
head. “I’m sorry, Papa. That was thoughtless of me.” Clearing her
throat, she peeked up to watch when he looked away, lifting her
head when she felt it was safe enough to do so. From the soon bored
expression on her face, I knew she hadn’t changed a bit.

She was still the same vain, selfish
little creature who’d helped a troll trick me into
servitude.

I should hate her, I should, and no
one would blame me if I’d chosen to, but love for someone, no
matter the horrible things they say and do, can have a way of
sneaking up on you and taking over, presiding over everything
else.

Family is everything, I’d
always thought.
Aren’t I supposed to love
them anyways, despite their shortcomings?
I had to ask myself that a few more times, still feeling
conflicted.

I’m supposed to, though,
right?

****

I sat there quietly, quickly feeling
like a stranger in my own home, as Otvla started rambling on about
herself—her hair, her clothes, the need of more clothes, always
feeling so ill lately.

With a long, drawn out huff, she got
up to refill her plate, eating a heaping second helping, and I
noticed the slight protrusion in her stomach, the telling bump of
an unborn child growing within her womb.

A wave of dizziness washed over me,
and I couldn’t blame it on my new nocturnal life style.

No.

My mind filled with what ifs. All
those what ifs I’d tortured myself with for months.

What if Otvla had never
crossed a troll?
And it was more than
trespassing, I’d later learned as Troll went on one of his raving
fits, grumbling and rumbling the whole sordid thing out, and in
great detail.

What did she expect would
happen if she paid his toll—
her
locket
—and then snuck back later,
attempting to steal it back?

He lives in a magic cave!
He has magic! Hello? He’s, uh, gee, I dunno, magical!

As my thoughts went back to the land
of what ifs, I thought of Trystan. My Trystan.

What if he hadn’t come to
try and rescue me?

Does he still think of
me?

Did his wound heal
properly?

What if we’d gotten
married?

Would we have a little one
on the way by now?

What would our life be
like?

Would he be happy with me?
Content?

Would I?

The last thought startled me, as it
always did, but my mind always went there. I blamed Troll for it,
he’d help plant that doubt.

“
Is the sickness all the
time?” Mamma asked worriedly, fluttering and fretting over her
youngest born.

My eyes, which had been glued to her
growing baby belly, couldn’t stand the sight of her anymore. I
didn’t even know she’d been wed, or if she even was, or if maybe
the child she carried was the product of some sordid affair.
Pushing to my feet, I stood up and started walking towards my room.
I didn’t care.

“
Where are you going,
Daphedaenya?” Papa asked, the only one to take note of my quick
departure.

Making sure to be loud enough, I let
the yawn I’d been holding in escape me, rubbing my forehead
tiredly.

“
I’m just tired, is all. It
was a long walk.” Turning my head to glance over at him, I smiled
wanly and turned.

“
Just need a bit of a rest,
then?” The look on his face said he didn’t believe me for a second,
but I was thoroughly relieved when he didn’t question it any
further.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat,
I nodded. “Yes, just tired.” I could feel everyone’s eyes on my
back as I resumed the trip across the small space, grasped the door
knob and turned it, quickly hurrying inside. It shut quietly behind
me, and I unlaced my boots, letting them fall with a ‘clomp’ on the
floor. Removing my dress and under things until I was left with
only my shift and loose stockings, I slowly settled down on my back
on the top of the bed.