The Toll (35 page)

Once redressed, hair still damp, feet
wrinkled and slightly moist in my father’s smelly old boots, the
rapidly cooling temperature chilling my already cooled flesh, she
turned around, tossing an arm over her shoulder to beckon me.
“Well, come on now, Uhm, we’ve things ta do, and time’s a
wastin’.”

After a brief hesitation, one look at
the gloomy sky, dark clouds hovering, no other options readily
available, I thought to take my chances with the crone.

It was easy enough to catch up with
her, her aged, hunched over body only allowing her to go so fast.
Biting my lips, huddling down in my sheet as I picked my way
through the stray vegetation, bushes filled with thunder berries
tugging the branches down heavily, and ice roses in full bloom,
bursting with vibrant reds and blues, creamy white mixed in, were
growing abundantly along the Lux.

The Lux, named for its faded white
poplars and sprawling sycamores, strange plants and supposed
strange creatures roaming deep within these ‘enchanted’ woods. The
deeper you went, the more things bore the black mark—the taint—of
what might occupy this place. The light that shines in the
darkness—healthy greens and robust oranges, ruby red leaves filling
branches, gave way to blooming blue and black, stark yet eerily
beautiful against the milky white of the bark.

Everyone knew to pull back once the
evergreens of the Mortrag Hollows, bordering the Lux and Blood Mud
swamp, gave way to ghost gums with oddly tinted, bright blue and
black speckled, burnt orange leaves.

And here I am, calm as you please,
walking right into it. Eyes darting around cautiously, alert, the
chilling winds picked up, the closer to the Lux we went. The deeper
we traversed into the thickening underbrush, white and blue
fighting to be seen, the louder the old woman started humming, an
odd shiver raking down my spine.

Skin prickling, I rubbed at it,
clutching the sheet tighter around my person when my runes started
to wake up, glowing low, the happy hum they brought to my skin,
more tingle than sting anymore, causing me to stop entirely to peek
down at myself. Pulling my neckline to the side, my eyebrows shot
up. Light blue and swirling, no pain or crazed sensations consumed
me as my runes glowed, no anger enveloping me.

“
Blessed by The Lady, Uhm,
ya is. Blessed. Water kissed runes and a blessing.”

Caught, I righted my clothes, snapping
my sheet shut tight, shoulders bunched as I ran to catch up with
her, ignoring her thoughtful stare.

Bobbing her head as she talked aloud,
mumbling idly about anything and nothing while I half listened and
we walked, she soon started singing, her old, worn voice slightly
off key but surprisingly pleasant. The haunting melody, sweet but
sad, a song of longing and loss, had the hairs on my nape standing
on end, and conversely, everything inside of me
relaxing.

Slipping her the side eye, I wondered
if that was her power, lulling with song. Would that make her a
siren, then? Or is it trickery—the craft—a bit of witchery on her
part?

I knew that song somehow, though, when
she sung louder and I felt like all of my thoughts simply ceased,
but... from where?

Dark Within Light

“
Here tis, Uhm. Now don’t
be doddlin’. Come.”

As we reached her small little
cottage, nothing more than a hovel, yet sturdy enough to fight off
the elements, I hesitated at the decrepit gate.

Glancing around, the moon hung low,
brighter, I felt, than usual, a dusky ring of red rimming the
edges. Despite my gut tumbling, nagging at me to stay put, the
humming sense in the back of my mind urged me to follow.

No. Nope.
I’ve had enough odd encounters to last me a
lifetime, don’t need to add a Hansel and Gretel like one into the
mix. I’ve at least heard that one before, and while she doesn’t
possess a ginger bread and candy house, the innate sense of warmth
and calm, of homecoming, she evoked, as if to lull me into a sense
of false security, scared the life out of me.

“
Uhm?”

Snapped out of my musings, I took a
deep breath and glanced up.

“
Starting to rain, child,”
her voice softened at the look on my face, “come in. I swear, give
me word, if yer heart is true, and you’ve the intentions, nothin’
nefarious will come to be under this roof.”

“
My... my
intentions?”
Nefarious?
Flabbergasted, my feet found themselves moving
forward, picking their way to her door, edging in just before they
halted at the threshold.

“
Be a good woman.” Whirling
around with a speed that belayed her age, the hunched old thing
tapped her temple with an emaciated, liver spotted, wrinkled,
gnarled hand. “I see it. Worry not, lil’un. Ye be good. Ornthren
look, if they open their blasted eyes, and they see all. You’ll
see.”

“
Ornthren?” I murmured
aloud.
Why did it feel like I’d heard that
somewhere?

“
Mmm. Yes. And the third
eye sees all, if the blinders aren’t on.”

“
What blinders?”

Her thin shoulders shrugged, the thick
layers of the robes encasing her shifting heavily with her.
“Whatever it be. To each their own to carry, yes? A burden to
prove. Now, come. Come. You chill me as you stand there with the
door open, gums flappin’. Give an old woman a respite, hmm? These
tired old bones can’t take much more, I be thinkin’.”

Rushing to do her bidding before I’d
given it another thought, I closed and barred the door. The heat of
the fire roaring, along with the smell of the pot cooking over it,
filled me with delicious warmth, the tension in my wind whipped
body melting away.

“
Take tea, Uhm?” The old
woman barked from her kitchen, rattling around in her cupboards as
she tossed on a warm shawl.

“
Oh, uhm, I... You know, I
really must be going. Thank you, th...” My words trailed off as a
crack of thunder rumbled right over head, a flash of lightening
illuminating the hauntingly light and dark woods surrounding
us
. Where, exactly, would I be going,
then, if I did leave?
I had to ask myself.
I didn’t know.

Nowhere. Back to the small
pond to soak in the rain
? Looks like this
is my only option at the moment.

“
Foolish to go out in this.
You’ll be stayin’ with me, you will.”

“
I really shouldn’t,” I
mumbled, wincing as the sound of rain pitter pattered, and then
clattered and snapped noisily, like rocks raining down over what I
prayed was a properly thatched roof.

“
Mm,” she grunted with a
harrumph, “but you will. Tea?”

Without much choice, I sank down into
one of the small wooden chairs, plumped up with old but warm furs,
situated just off to the side of the fire.

“
It’s not, uhm, my name,”
as I paused, she looked sharply as I fiddled with the corner of my
sheet-cape, “it’s... it’s Daphedaenya.” After a moment’s
hesitation, the words, the name, rolling off my tongue like a bad
taste, leaving a bitter bite on the tip of my tongue, didn’t feel
right. Sucking my lips into my mouth as if to keep from speaking
further, I peeked up at her from beneath my long, blonde and orange
colored lashes as I slowly pushed them back out, chewing on the
inside of my cheek.

I’m not Daphedaenya
anymore, and I’d been right to tell Papa that.
That, woman- No, that girl, doesn’t exist anymore.
But what should I be called, then?
I didn’t have an answer.

Snorting derisively, her
eyes narrowed to brilliant blue slits, so brightly lit those large
orbs shined luminously, standing out against her frail skin,
youthful almost, radiating a type of ethereal effervescence and
life, set in such a failing, ailing body. Clucking her tongue
noisily, she hunched and wobbled when she walked, and there was a
hitch in her breath that only seemed to worsen with her motions.
Her skin was tinged wrong, a sallow, unhealthy yellow, dotted with
liver spots, deep purple ringing her eyes. Though she did seem
quite capable, in my opinion, obviously having managed fair enough
out here all on her own, for all she was and wasn’t, a well of
empathy swelled within me for her.
She’s
all alone too.

As I observed her as unobtrusively as
possible, I watched as she winced whenever she used her hands,
rubbing them soothingly every few minutes while she worked. The
gnarled, twisted bones of each small finger suggested a bothersome
ailment.

Does it bother the rest of
her?
I wondered, noting she seemed to
favor her left leg. Knocking on death’s door, yet still so full of
life—it was saddening.

She had to be fairly up there in
years, not that I’d ever be so calloused as to ask, but surely
older than my grandmum, who was nearing her eightieth year when she
left us.

“
Don’t look like no
Daphadanny to me,” my curmudgeonly hostess grumbled. “Try again,
Uhm. I’ll not be callin’ ya a name that doesn’t suit. Rather call
you a bumbling mumble
—uhm—
than a
Dafta-anything.”

“
Mmm.” thinking that over
for a moment, I licked my dry lips, swiping a bit of moisture off
my face with the end of my sheet. “You could call me Nugget?” The
offer was tentative, slipping past my lips as I thought aloud. My
odd sense’s approval hummed along my spine, adding a bit of much
needed warmth to my slowly thawing frame. It was like a warm hug
when I needed one most, and I embraced it most readily.

Truthfully, besides the
crone and my heightened senses, what else have I got?

Nothing.

Brows shooting up, the
gnarled old woman threw off her hood, barking out a laugh. “Nugget,
huh? Mmm, well, a nugget you say? Hah! I like it. You’ve a bit
about you like a nugget.” She chortled a little to herself at that,
grinning a toothless grin. “It’s fitting.” There was a note of
approval in her voice that I couldn’t quite figure out, but it was
the truth, and I didn’t dare ask her to explain what she meant by
her comment, for fear we’d both end up insulted somehow.
No, best leave it and let her have her say. She
is helping me out, after all, isn’t she?

What other name did I have at the
moment, anyways? Dafty was definitely out of the question, and I
wanted no other. No, nugget would just have to do for
now.

“
May I know yours?” I asked
quietly, watching as she effortlessly readied two
drinks.

“
Tea?” she demanded, not
bothering at all to look up, not bothering to answer,
either.

I guess that’s a
no.

“
I’d love some,” I
responded quietly, brushing a thick hank of wet hair off my
shoulder, turning towards the fire. “Thank you.”

Thin lips twisting up into some funny
semblance of a pleased smile as she finished, she brought our
drinks over and poured us each a bowl of stew, despite my
insistence she let me help, taking the seat across from me and
pulling a warn looking blue patterned quilt off the back, tucking
it around herself.

One bite and I smiled. “This is very
good. Thank you.”

Tilting her long white hair covered
head slightly, she nodded at the compliment.

My eyes darted back and forth between
her hunched form as she ate and the glowing embers of the fire.
“And, uh, thank you for taking me in. I... I don’t know how to
repay you.”

“
I want not.” Her grunted
reply was muffled with a mouthful of stew as she carefully shoveled
it in, chewing methodically. It was very soft, the meat just
melting in your mouth, making it so easy for her to eat with little
to no, from what I’d gathered, teeth.

“
But, surely, you must have
need of something? Help around here, somewhere,
perhaps?”

“
Do just fine, all by
myself. Don’t need handouts. Keep that kinda thinkin’ to yerself.
Hmph.”

Mulling that over, my eyes lit up and
I sat up in my seat. “I have a bit of coin,” I offered, thinking of
the blasted gold bags that wouldn’t just go away. “I can spare a
bit.” More than a bit, and wouldn’t that just piss Troll off,
giving it away like that.

Hah!
Some coin, I’d give her all of it,
I
decided.
Buy me off, will he? Hmph. I
don’t need his blood money. I’ll figure it out on my
own.

But... how do I get the
coins now? I don’t have them on me, and I certainly can’t go back,
not now.

“
Thinkin’ hard, is
we?”

Startled, I blinked, snapping out of
it, and shook my head. “What? No. I was just thinking.” About how
I’m going to ring his blasted, oversized troll-ish neck, ignoring
the fact that the need to be near him, thanks to that inconceivable
bond, will always be there; tugging at me, I feared, no matter the
cost.

I love him and I hate
him.
It was a bit of a sticky wicket I
found myself trapped in.

Gah! I still want the
cursed fool.

Ugh. I truly am
mad.