Authors: Laura Anne Gilman
Ailis and Gerard made so much of Camelot, as though it were the greatest—the only—place in all England to live. It was just a place. Quality animals, decent food. But it was just a place. You didn’t get too attached to any one place.
Newt clattered onto the stone bridge, slowing his gelding down enough to look out over the side. There was barely enough water to earn the title of creek, but he could see from the banks where flooding had cut through. He suspected that after heavy rains, the knee-deep trickle might become dangerous.
Then something below shifted, the noise catching his attention.
“Hello?”
A shadow floated on the water and, reacting
instinctively, Newt slipped off the horse’s back and onto his own feet. If something wanted to fight, he was going to be where he knew
how
to fight. Leave tossing each other off horseback for the knights.
There was a heavy thud behind him, then: “Pay to pass.”
Newt, like Gerard, had never heard of a bridge troll. But he knew that anything that demanded payment in that tone of voice was not something he wanted to deal with. You might pass unhurt…or you might not. Arthur could talk all he wanted about might not making right, but the king wasn’t here, and a creature that looked dangerous
was
.
Backing up and turning around slowly, Newt felt the cool stone of the railing against his back. Putting one hand behind him for balance, he lifted himself over the rail slowly, letting the beast’s attention remain focused on the gelding. Newt would regret losing the animal, but not so much as he would regret losing himself.
And if the creature intended no real harm, then no harm would be done….
Still holding to the railing, Newt dropped over the side of the bridge. His arms straining, he hung there before seeing the ledge underneath where the
creature had doubtless been hiding, waiting for unwary travelers. It was a disgusting mess, like the worst kind of magpie’s nest, filled with straw and bits of cloth and small shiny objects.
“Ugh. That smells disgusting.” But something in the midden caught his attention, and he dropped lightly to his feet onto the ledge, intending to reach for it.
“Pay to pass!” that voice insisted again.
Newt heard the sound of his horse’s hooves breaking into a full gallop as it fled across the bridge. Then he felt something heavy hit him between the shoulder blades, and he knew nothing more.
“How much trouble could he have gotten into so quickly?” Ailis wondered out loud as they started back toward the bridge. Gerard just looked at her. He’d only known the stable boy for a few days and already he knew that was a foolish question. Newt’s inability to be respectful of authority was a disaster waiting to happen, even before you began considering his attitude toward magic—which would include, no doubt, a bridge troll.
“You know he’d refuse to pay. Let’s only hope the troll hasn’t eaten him.”
“Oh, a troll wouldn’t do that!” Ailis said. But they were both thinking of the sharp teeth and the long claws, and neither of them were entirely certain what a bridge troll
might
do if a passerby did not have anything suitable to pay with…or if the troll happened to be feeling more hungry than greedy.
They had tied their horses to a tree far enough from the bridge so as not to attract the troll’s attention, and stashed their packs under a particularly thickly branched stickerbush to keep them safe from a passing thief. Gerard kept his sword with him. It was the first time Ailis had ever seen him actually wearing it, rather than carrying it on his saddle. She wasn’t sure if it made him look brave or foolish, perhaps both.
She wished she had some kind of weapon as well.
“Do we call him, or…?”
“Is the troll going to ask us for another payment? Because that cord was the only thing of value that I had, other than this sword, and the only way that troll’s taking that from me is if I leave it thrust through its chest. Just so we’re clear on that.”
“I don’t know,” Ailis admitted. “Only one way to find out.” She took a deep breath, then shouted “Newt! Are you here?”
The only sounds were the shiishhhing of the water below the bridge, and birds in the trees to either side.
“No Newt.”
“No troll, either,” Ailis pointed out.
“Unless it’s busy—”
“Ugh.” Ailis glared at him. “Don’t even
think
that.”
“Well, he’s not here….”
“Underneath of course,” Ailis said suddenly. “Trolls live
under
bridges.”
“Oh. Of course,” Gerard muttered as Ailis started walking again, still cautiously, not toward the stone walkway that spanned the water but down the muddy banks to the left-hand side. Then, suddenly realizing that he was about to let a girl walk, unprotected, into possible danger, he followed, moving quickly enough to catch up with her. He might not like the stable boy overmuch, but Newt was a companion on this quest, and they would not abandon him.
“Watch out for the troll.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Gerard muttered back. They both ducked to look under the bridge and gagged at the smell that hit their noses.
“Oh, disgusting.” Gerard flinched, holding his forearm against his face, as though that would protect him. There was an alcove under the bridge made of the same stone, running the full length and half the width of the bridge. It was filled with debris, the source of the smell. Water rushed just a handspan below, doing nothing to clean the air.
“There!” Ailis cried, pointing. In the far corner—in the darkest corner of the alcove—something moved.
“Careful!” Gerard held back. “It might be the troll,” he said as Ailis splashed through the water and climbed onto the ledge. She turned her head aside slightly as the smell intensified.
“Help me!” she cried softly over her shoulder. “It’s Newt!”
Gerard took a deep breath, trying to suck as much air into his lungs as he could, and then waded into the stream to follow her.
“He’s been tied up and gagged,” she told him, “and seems to be out cold. Let me…we have to move him before the troll comes back.”
She grabbed Newt by the ankles, trying to pull his bound form out of the alcove. It must have woken him because he suddenly flailed wildly, trying to kick out at his attacker.
“Newt!” she whispered loudly. “It’s us! You’re safe!”
Either he heard her or he just ran out of energy, because his body went limp. She was able to move him a little bit, dragging him on the stone. He moaned so low that she could barely hear it. “I’m sorry,” she said, still tugging. “Gerard! Help me!”
Gerard reached in and grabbed just below her hands, lending his strength in one hard pull that dragged both Newt and Ailis out of the alcove. She squeaked, Gerard stumbled, and all three of them landed in the stream, two of them soaked to the waist in cold water, Newt flat on his back in the current. The cold water started him struggling again. Gerard reached down and slung Newt over his shoulder, slogging to the bank of the stream and, leaving Ailis to follow on her own, looking around nervously for the troll.
“What happened?” she demanded, once Gerard had cut the badly tied ropes off his legs and arms and pulled the wad of dirty rags out of Newt’s mouth. He dry-spat once, moved his mouth, and made a face at the taste, then shook his head slowly. “Something jumped me.”
“Why didn’t you just pay the toll? We were able to pass without any problem.”
“Not going to pay anything. It’s not the king’s toll.”
“You should have just paid,” Ailis said.
“Easier than getting trussed up for a troll’s dinner,” Gerard agreed.
Newt snorted off the lecture. “But then I wouldn’t have found it,” he said, sounding smug, or as smug as a near-troll-dinner could be.
“Found…it?”
“Found it,” he said, rolling over on his side and opening up his jerkin to show a glass vial identical to the first talisman, nestled safely inside. “Be glad you dropped me on my back,” he said grimly.
“Luck again. This much luck makes me nervous,” Gerard said, taking the talisman and holding it up to the light.
“What
is
it?” Ailis said.
“Two halves of…something.” Gerard turned it upside down, then sideways, trying to puzzle out what it might be.
“Does it have to
be
something? Can’t they just…be magical?” Newt looked at Ailis, who looked at Gerard, who looked back and shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s exactly the same as the first one….”
“Troll!” Newt was on his feet, pointing at the
creek. Gerard tossed the talisman to Ailis, who caught it and backed up the bank, looking behind her for a place to hide it and herself. The troll had returned, and from the look on its hideous face, it wasn’t happy to see its captive escaping. It raised its arms over its head and let out a gurgling scream as it rushed into the water at them.
Gerard sloshed forward through the water, drawing his sword and getting into a defensive posture. The troll didn’t even seem to notice the blade as it lunged at Gerard, who met the charge directly. The muscles he had built during his training with Sir Bors and the other squires absorbed the shock, and his leather jerkin deflected the worst of the troll’s claws. But the sheer size of the troll knocked him onto his back and he hit the water with a hard splash. His sword was knocked from his hands and slipped, blade first, into the muddy water. As he fell, Gerard reached up and wrapped his arms around the troll’s body and pulled the creature into the water with him.
All Newt could see was furious splashing and thrashing, troll skin, and the now-sodden brown of Gerard’s clothing occasionally coming into view.
“Help him!” Ailis screamed from the opposite bank.
“How?” he yelled back. “I can’t even tell—”
The two figures rolled, and Newt had to move quickly to get out of the way or get knocked down himself. Nice of the squire to offer himself up as first victim, but it didn’t look like he was doing much, other than getting a thrashing before they all got eaten.
Brawn wasn’t going to do it; the two of them together wouldn’t be able to take on that thing.
Newt looked around for Gerard’s sword, but couldn’t find it in the churning water. Reaching down to where his own blade should have been, Newt found only an empty sheath.
“No!” Then he waded furiously back to the ledge where the troll had stashed him, frantically searching among the trash for the dagger. Please, let it just have fallen out…. A sharp sting on the palm of his left hand told him he had found it, or something suitably sharp. He shifted his hand and closed his fingers around the bone hilt of his blade.
Barely a hand’s-length long, the dagger was useful for cutting tangled reins, skinning rabbits, and gutting fish. He doubted it was going to do anything on troll hide. But he felt better having it in his hand. The squire was starting to rub off on him.
“We’re still going to die,” he said. Then he pivoted
and returned to the stream, where Gerard had gotten his head and shoulders above the waterline. He was now on his knees and wrestling with the troll.
“Yeaaagghhh!” Newt shouted, throwing himself onto a thrashing gray-white arm and slashing at it, trying to not cut Gerard by accident. If he could only distract the creature, Gerard could find his sword and…
A heavy arm knocked Newt in the head and he staggered, shaking the water out of his eyes. A salty liquid dripped into his mouth and he wiped the blood off his forehead with his free hand.
“Newt! Do something!” Ailis cried again.
“I’m trying,” he muttered, then circled around and made another jab at the troll from behind. The troll roared, its head turning to watch this new threat. Newt moved his blade, the sunlight catching against the metal and reflecting into the troll’s eyes.
“Come on, come on!” Newt taunted it, then swallowed hard when the troll let go of Gerard with one hand and reached wildly for him. Newt splashed backward, trying to keep out of reach without getting so far away that the troll would go back to Gerard.
On the bank of the stream, Ailis shoved the talis
man under the nearest bush, then looked around wildly for something she could use to help in the fight. “Something. Anything.”
Grunts and muffled swears came from the water. Ailis wanted to hit something, she was so frustrated. She didn’t know anything about fighting, not really—just what one of the older servant girls had told her to do if a man ever tried to get too friendly when she didn’t want it. She didn’t think that would work on a troll. Her gaze suddenly fell on the side of the bridge where some of the stones had fallen out onto the ground.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Ailis scrambled down the muddy bank and sorted through the stones, trying to find one with the right weight and shape. She ended up with two possibilities. Leaving one within easy reach at her feet, Ailis picked the other up in both hands, then judged the distance between herself and the three figures in the water.
“Don’t think,” she told herself. “Line up the shot and then do it.”
Don’t think.
She took a deep breath, judged the distance again, and then shifted the stone into one hand and put all of her strength into the throw.
There was an odd whistling noise and the troll
staggered. Through the water in his ears, Gerard thought he heard Ailis whooping. With the part of his brain that could still think, he wondered what she was doing still there, why she hadn’t run already.
Get the talisman out of here,
he thought at her, as though she could hear him.
We’re not important, the talisman is!
Then the troll pressed its burly, scaled arm against his throat, and even that bit of thought fled. Lacking anything else to do in retaliation, Gerard craned his neck forward and bit the nearest available troll-flesh hard.
Newt heard Ailis’s scream of victory. But there was no time to look and see what she had done—the troll was off balance; if he didn’t take advantage of it, they’d be taking Gerard back to Camelot on a funeral bier.
Crouching as best he could in the hip-deep water, Newt slid and twisted somehow, drawing on every rough-and-tumble fight he’d ever had—not only with other boys but with the hounds he had cared for as well. And as he slid and twisted, his arm moved almost independently, the hand holding the dagger stabbing upward, not to where the troll’s stomach was now but where it was going to be by the time Newt finished moving.