Page 54 of A Light So Blinding
The stone paths spider-webbed around them, leading to homes and spiraling off to shops, then drawing back to small gardens. Everything here had been created by artistic hands, though. The pots that held flowers and herbs had been painted to look like mosaic tiles. The homes were small huts, but their doors were carved to look like swirling magic. The roofs were made out of slate stones, each of them painted in murals that stretched across the entire village. Each depicted a story that was told to children in the evenings.
The air smelled sweet here. Like greenery, freshly cut wheat, and tomatoes when he brushed up against their stems. Just taking a deep breath here felt like he hadn’t breathed in years.
And then there were the people. Trolls who were the strangest folk Astrid had likely ever seen. Many here were still very close to their animalistic natures, so they could be guided by the women who were like priestesses to his kind. Most of the trolls were less human with scales, horns, and claws. All of them must have been terrifying to her.
But when he looked back, he could see that her eyes were just wide in awe. A couple of trolls walked by them, one with a clawed hand that looked like the foot of a raven, and he saw her eyes flick to it quickly before looking at the dress the woman wore instead. It was a pretty dress, hand beaded into swirling patterns that looked like overlapping feathers. Homage to the raven that had given its life to bring her from the mud, most likely.
The two trolls were so shocked to see a human in their midst that they froze. They were unable to move, staring at Astrid as she stared at them, and he thought for a moment he’d have to step in.
Astrid plastered on a bright smile and said, “Your dress is lovely. The beading is so intricate, I’m sorry I was staring. I was just trying to find out how you stitched that.”
The troll blushed a pretty shade of deep red that matched her umber skin. “Thank you.”
Then they skittered off, likely to tell others that they were brave enough to talk to the human captive who had entered with a troll they did not know. Bjorn hadn’t seen many of these people since he was a child. He assumed no one would recognize him.
At least, until they approached the training grounds.
His mother used to live on the other side of them, and he knew that was likely where she still was. Dag the Destroyer had never wanted to visit his troll wife unless he could still train fora few days out of the visit. Therefore, they had lived near where the men and women who protected this grotto were trained.
Though he hadn’t seen any of them when they entered, he was pleased to see there were people still training there. Six trolls wrestled in the dirt, each of them with gleaming weapons at their waists and snarls on their faces.
But then they paused as one. Their arena was surrounded by a thick fence made of fallen logs, keeping out anyone who wasn’t training with them unless they wanted to be drawn into a mock fight. The ground where they wrestled had been turned to dust after years of trampling the earth.
Bjorn could still feel the dust clinging to his skin. He remembered what it was like to be thrown onto his back, the air whooshing out of his lungs as another, larger troll put him in the dirt.
None of them could do that now. They wouldn’t have the strength, the power, or the control to make it difficult for him to fight them. Not after years of what he’d been through.
They must have caught his scent, or perhaps Astrid’s. All six of them leapt to their feet and headed in their direction. Though they were covered in dirt and sweat, they were an intimidating crew of trolls to be heading straight for them. He’d never been prouder to see them.
“Ho there,” one of the young men said. “Do you have permission to bring a human here?”
“From Ylva herself,” he said, watching as they all relaxed.
It seemed his mother was more important than he remembered. Or perhaps that his mother had finally been recognized for all that she did for his people.
Too many years had passed. It was hard for him to imagine all the things that could have changed. He barely knew if his memories of this place were conjured by his mind or if they were real.
One of the warriors in the back pushed forward. She was a scarred woman, her body marked by countless battles that she wore with pride. Leather straps bound her small breasts to her chest and wrapped around her legs almost in the manner of leggings. But there was a scar above her left eyebrow that was familiar. He had a flash of a memory, almost as though he remembered how she’d gotten it.
And then he did. They’d been wrestling just like the others had been wrestling. They’d been children though, pretending to be what their parents already were. His father, her mother, both warriors that were renowned throughout all of troll kind. He’d rolled her a little too hard, and she had ricocheted off into the distance where she’d hit her head on a rock. Bjorn remembered thinking she would cry and that he’d get a beating for being too rough, but she had instead claimed she was proud to wear her first scar so young.
“Tyra?” he asked, the name coming to him unbidden.
She grinned, revealing a chipped front tooth. “I thought that might be you, but I hadn’t hoped you actually survived after being stolen from us. Bjorn, son of the Destroyer. You have finally returned to us!”
She reached for him. It was everything he had wanted in a reunion. Bjorn had dreamt of this in his early days in the labyrinth. He’d prayed that when he returned, people would remember who he was. That they would gather around him, holding on to his shoulders and clutching him to their hearts where he could feel that they were alive too. He had desperately hoped that they would give him a chance to be loved one more time.
But now that she had him in her arms, he could only stiffen. He didn’t like Tyra touching him. His skin crawled where every point of her fingers lingered, almost as though there was staticbetween him and her. She squeezed him harder, and he could see stars sparking in his vision.
He couldn’t breathe like this. She was too close. Panic set in under his skin, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. The beast inside him raged, shouting at him to throw her off because no one could touch him. No one. It was the fastest way to death to let someone hug him like this, when he could grapple them onto the ground and make sure they didn’t do it again.
She stepped back thankfully, but only a bit. Tyra grabbed onto his horns, shaking his head from side to side like she’d done when they were children. He remembered her saying that his horns were his greatest strength and weakness, because they were great at battering but also handles for her to throw him.
Right now, every muscle in his body locked, so he wouldn’t use them to bloody her face.
He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to hurt anyone in the grotto. This was hishome. He wassafe. He wasn’t in the labyrinth anymore, and he didn’t have to protect himself or anyone else.
But then another fighter grabbed onto him, and all these feelings got even worse. He couldn’t think straight with someone holding on to him. Even gently, as they were now. They weren’t trying to harm him.
