Tales of the Inhabitants of Toll: The Colored Path

By Lauren Reed

When Lord Adon cast the Wagerian away from the world of Meare to live in the lands of Toll, the people must survive together until the opening of the seals of the scroll. As they wait, the daunting toll collector, Travis and his brother Cari loom over the lands prohibiting their re-entrance into Meare, where Inheriton awaits. A charming mix of h

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lauren Reed
• Release date: Apr 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781087881379

Lauren Reed

Lauren was born and raised in Jacksonville, FL.

Book preview

To Jaxon, though you may be far away, in my heart you will always stay.

&

To my mother, the most loving person I know.

TheColoredPathLauren Reedlauren reed918182021-01-16T23:31:00Z2021-01-14T23:17:00Z2021-01-21T18:41:00Z18328239160963Aspose134137718882516.0000

Contents

Chapter 1 Shattered Polish

Chapter 2 The Forest of Blue

Chapter 3 The Broken Path

Chapter 4 Gilimous

Chapter 5 The Red Road

Chapter 6 The Lucas Army

Chapter 7 The Good Fight

Chapter 8 Lucas and Lyla

Chapter 9 The Courage of Cowards

Chapter 10 Dragon Kind

Chapter 11 What’s Your Secret?

Chapter 12 The Scribes of Elveirdor

Chapter 13 The Ransom

Chapter 14 The Song of Red and Blue

Chapter 15 Who Will Save You?

Chapter 16 The Wooden Key

Chapter 17 A New Plan

Chapter 18 A Sacrifice for a Friend

Chapter 19 Resting Place

Chapter 20 A New King

TheColoredPathLauren Reedlauren reed918182021-01-16T23:31:00Z2021-01-14T23:17:00Z2021-01-21T18:41:00Z18328239160963Aspose134137718882516.0000

This is the tale of the inhabitants of Toll. These are the misfit adventures of those who lost their way, and how little an action can lead you astray. Though many tales will be told, one chord’s fine-tune will unfold. How darkness and temptations lead you amiss, and their hopeless ambitions over their toils and tiffs. The somber countenance of a wandering heart, and how the smallest shoes walk the largest part. This is the recounting of those who have dwelled in Toll, and the scattered recollections of those who have carried the scroll.

Tales of the Inhabitants of Toll

The Colored Path

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Frie and Tread

TheColoredPathLauren Reedlauren reed918182021-01-16T23:31:00Z2021-01-14T23:17:00Z2021-01-21T18:41:00Z18328239160963Aspose134137718882516.0000

Chapter 1

Shattered Polish

   In a meadow on the far side of a river, past the Forest of Old, lived the Tillian folk on the edge of Heiron, in the land of Toll. Up on the hill, lived the baker and his wife; their son of fifteen lived with them. Frie was his name. He wasn't much, but he sang, and our story begins with him. It's not a lot, but he made a nook and a tickle, currency to the Till, as the shoemaker's understudy, who had little means, but who also lived on the hill. He took a grin and a bin with him by way and whistled a merry tune. Light was his step and easy was the way while walking by the light of the moon. Which brings us to the day of the Tillian parade where our story here unfolds, with his dearest friend, Tread, whom trouble had found though he was only fourteen years old. Now, bright came the day that brought the parade and merry were the Tillian folk, except for dear old Frie who was stuck inside threading leather, and refining soles. So here we start with a story's mend and how havoc therein begins...

Tillians were small folk, half the size of those who dwell in Mitus on the other side of Heiron, and only a quarter the size of the Gilimous who guarded its south border. Standing no taller than four feet, they were short indeed. They’re agile though, the Tillians. They’re swift, light-footed, and if you ever need:

"a sneak, crook, or spy, call the Tillian to be your eyes."

   They had their value and they praise themselves in it. Yes, pride was the overwhelming trait of the Tillian folk. Though small their stature, they were mighty and quick. On the battlefield they weren’t quite found useful, but use was certainly found in their wits. The Tillians considered their land the most sacred of all the lands because their heritage is the scroll.

The scroll is a document bound by a spell, sealed in a covenant, and passed in secret, not to be traced, through the call of Lord Adon. Particularly, in this part of our tale, the scroll just so happens to sit with none other than the shoemaker's son, whose name was Tread (and whose best friend was Frie). Now, the shoemaker's name is Lace and his wife is Marlene of the vineyard line. Frie's father is named Rye and his wife is Crystal of the Well line. She was a handsmaiden. In Toll, a handsmaiden is a healer, which does no good to the Till because high is the position of a handsmaiden but lowly is the place of the baker's wife.

In the lands of Toll your surname is your position followed by your kind. For instance, a Tillians name always ends in Till. So Frie was called Frie Baker-Till and Tread was known by Tread Shoe-Till.

As prideful as the Tillians were, they still bestowed nicknames upon one another, and if true enough to it (like in battlefield or whatever toil consumed them), the title would stick. So as Frie's mother called him Pumpernickel, Tread does not.

Now, let's say that Frie became Toll renowned in his mastery for pumpernickel bread, then all the Tillian would call him by the name. The pride of the Till, however, will not allow them to advance a title unless earned. So, to no joys end for Frie, he wouldn’t be called Pumpernickel anytime soon.

As it goes, Frie and Tread were both banned from going to the Tillian parade on this day, by not only the shoemaker but also his wife (which was troublesome for Frie because Mrs. Shoe was never unkind). They had taken a thread of high value and spun it on low-value skin and sole. Thread is hardest to come by because it is made by hairs from wild beasts, blue fire, and gemstone. The land of Heiron wields magic of old times. Its lineage is great but heavy is its burden because of the rivalry between the men of Dright, and the dark Lord as they call him, but also known as Lord Valais. His land is called Sincumulyn, in Tyme of Dright.

Now, in Everon is the High Lord Adon, who is worshiped by the Heiron, and whose country is at the top of Meare, its world. However, the story of Meare is for the Delphi and at this moment we are entertaining the happenings of the shoemaker's house.

Remember, the scroll sits with Tread, but this story doesn’t follow Tread, as some stories are not always about what is happening, but what is to happen. For there are troubles of the past that affect our futures, of which, they take their toll. Though just as the troubles of the past present the troubles at hand, we must remember where we have been and where we still have left to go.

***

It was midmorning during the spring of 2506 in the Till. Their 2506 wasn’t quite like your year calculations though, with your B.C, A.D, C.E nonsense. Tollish days worked mostly the same as yours, Tollish years, however, were long and quite consecutive. Toll isn’t like your boring, grumpy, magic-free world. Toll is a completely different type of world indeed, with all different kinds of beings, big, small, short, and tall. Creatures too, fine beasts, those of the land and the sea. Yet, somehow, though we may be different, we all still prove to be the same.

   Frie could hear the sounds of the Tillian parade coming from the window and longed to be a part of the fun. It's in a Tillians nature to enjoy toil, but alas, if he ever wanted to see the underside of his roof again, he'd better stay put. He was shining leather when he looked up to see Tread, taller than him by two inches but younger than him by a year.

Tread was tossing breadspare into the air, over the light fixture, and into his mouth while grinning gaily for no real reason. A Tillians house is no taller than he, and the Tillians never moved upward so their houses were short and attainable like them. Though they did have roofs, their ceilings barely gave room for a nice arm stretch unless sitting down. A bit uncomfortably if you ask me. The Tillians never tore down their homes, so nearly all the builds consisted of dark worn wood with the growth of green moss peaking about here and there. Their chimneys stood out nicely, always placed to the right-hand side.

   While the houses looked dark from the outside, the Till was bright, with fresh green grass, and blue skies. Colorful flowers and little mushrooms were always somewhere to be seen, as the bud of life was constantly in sprout.

   Because both Frie and Tread’s homes were on the hill, just outside of the village in the meadow, they were in eyeshot of the busybody Tillian business which was always unfolding. Happeningly, they could now distantly see the unraveling of the parade.

Whatcha say, Frie? Wanna run on down the hill? Tread flicked another small tear of breadspare into the air and caught it by his mouth.

Would you like to catch the plow from my mom and yours? asked Frie, laughing and raising his eyebrows.

If Mrs. Shoe was unkind then Frie's mother had the likeness of Lord Valais himself. He ran the cloth over the now glossy leather skin producing a gleaming surface.

Frie had pale skin with no freckles and light blue eyes. His hair was slightly grown out now, and a light brown color but not quite blond. His face was soft and round, like his nose, and he hardly ever smiled, but when he did it was pleasant. He frequently wore a loose-fitting shirt which tied up in the front, with camel trousers, and brown leather shoes. (Their world wasn’t quite as advanced as your own. So, they wore clothing in the likeness of your old, technically inept, world. The parts of clothing with zippers and frilly bits of practical additions which make your lives so easy, weren’t present in their world. They, however, did have the commodity of certain magic, and creatures which also contained similar natures.)

Tread, not working on anything but breadspare, sighed.

Anything’s worth getting out of this place isn’t it? The legs of his chair made a loud, unpleasant noise against the