ON TROLLS
Ector Eotrus and Sir Sarbek, Dor Eotrus’s acting Castellan, stood in the alchemy laboratory awaiting the Leren’s preliminary report on his examination of the body of the troll that they’d brought back from the field.
“I've never seen anything quite like it,” said Leren Sverdes, House Eotrus's venerable alchemist and physician, as he stood before the ponderous, stone examination table, a troll's corpse atop it. Sverdes was hard of hearing and spoke about twice as loudly as most folks, perhaps to hear himself the better, or perhaps, just to be annoying. As was usual, the pockets of his gray smock bulged with all manner of tools and instruments. That day though, his clothes were smeared with troll’s blood from the examination that he just concluded. His assistants, similarly attired, but two-thirds of a century younger than he, carried the troll’’s organs, one by one, in bowls to another table that held, amongst an abundance of curious instruments, a scale, to weigh them, and recorded their readings in a leather bound log book. The troll's corpse wasn't rotted as yet; it was too recently dead, but it stank. The whole room stank. The hallway leading to the room, and most of the pathway from outside the citadel to the alchemy laboratory was tainted with more than a hint of the dead thing’’s stench.
“Its sternum is twice as thick as a man's,” said Sverdes as he sharply rapped his knuckles against it. He spoke through a damp cloth mask that he wore to lessen the oppressive odor. “And its bones are made of harder stuff than ours are. To make a clean cut through it, I had to sharpen the blade on my best bone saw, and even then, it was hard going.”
“Beneath its sternum, I found two hearts, one on each side of its chest. That's a first for me. Nothing else I've seen in nature has two hearts. But it only gets stranger from there. This smelly bugger has got two livers; a multi-chambered stomach (more like a cow's than a man's), four separate lungs, and a couple of other organs that I can't yet identify. Four lungs —— did you ever hear of such a thing? Its muscle tissue is thicker and denser than anything I've seen before, suggesting great strength. Its sinews and tendons are long and highly flexible, suggesting great agility. Its claws are near as hard and strong as iron. Taken together, these features make the troll incredibly robust. They must be darned hard to kill.”
“Hard to kill, yes,” said Sarbek, “but we killed our share of them up Mindletown way. Don’t forget about its ability to heal. Cut it open, and it heals up straightaway and right as rain.”
“I can’t find any evidence of that,” said Sverdes, “but since it’s dead, perhaps that’s to be expected.”
“What else?” said Sarbek.
“Its eyes resemble those of cats. Hard to say what meaning that has, but I’m guessing that they see well in the dark. Most strangely, is the bone and bone marrow,” he said pointing to its midsection. “Its stomachs are full of it and not much else.”
“You're telling me them things eat bones?” said Sarbek.
“Its teeth are made for it,” said Sverdes. “Thick and wide and perfect for biting through bones or whatnot and grinding them down. And it all fits with the legends.”
“You mean about the touch of a troll turning a man's bones to jelly?” said Ector. “I've always thought that a fairy tale and a silly one at that.””
“A tale to scare the misbehaving whelps,” said Sarbek. “Never put much stock in it.”
“Like most legends,” said Sverdes, “there appears to be some truth to it. From the dried and caked blood beneath its claws, I'd say that sometime within the last day, this thing killed something, maybe a person, or a large animal. It cut them open with its claws, extracted some of the bones, and ate them, or parts of them, sucking out the marrow along the way. Why it didn't eat the flesh too, I can't say that I understand. Maybe the marrow is a delicacy to it, and it comes back and eats the flesh later. Who knows?”
“It's a stinking monster,” said Sarbek. “Who knows why it does anything?”
“It's an animal, not a monster,” said Ector. “Same as a bear or a lion. Father always said that calling something a monster just makes it something to fear, something unknown. That gives it a power over you. I'm not going to give it that. It's an animal and nothing more.”
Sarbek nodded; a sad look on his face.
“Wise words, young master Ector,” said Sverdes, “but I'm afraid that you too are incorrect. It's no animal. As you see, it wore a loincloth —— stitched from dried deerskin. It's not something any Lomerian would wear — so it didn't steal it. It (or one of its kind) made it. That means that they know how to skin animals and prepare the hides, and how to sew. Those skills require an intelligence that's far beyond any animal. Perhaps even more telling, it wore bracelets of forged metal.”
“Stolen,” said Sarbek. “They must be. It picked up some shiny baubles, is all.”
“That’s what I suspected as well,” said Sverdes, “but it wore one on each wrist, both of the same design. Somewhat crude in workmanship, but I’ve seen worse on sale in the bazaar. They made these themselves.”
“If that's true, then they have metalsmiths,” said Sarbek. “And that means they could have armor and weapons. Oh, boy —— that’s all we need.”
“It means that they have intelligence,” said Sverdes. “Great intelligence. Maybe on par with us. They could be capable of anything. You must always keep that in mind when you deal with these things.”
“I'd rather that they were monsters,” said Sarbek.
“As would I,” said Sverdes. “There's more.” Sverdes displayed one of the bracelets before Sarbek. Look at the inside face of the bracelet,” he said pointing to some odd markings etched there.
“Some kind of runes?” said Sarbek.
“They are Thurisaz — troll runes,” said Sverdes. “Many such marking have been uncovered in caves, crypts, and old, long-abandoned places. We always thought that ancient peoples drew the runes, but perhaps that was wrong. Perhaps it was always the trolls themselves.”
“What do the symbols mean?” said Ector.
“Some say the runes can invoke demons from the nether world. Many wizards maintain that the runes can be used for divination and prophesy, and they even speculate that the trolls themselves have the ability to see the future. But now that we suspect that it's the trolls that draw the runes, the theories about what they mean may well be useless.””
“For what man could know the mind of a troll?” said Sarbek.
“Aye,” said Sverdes. “How many of them are there? Do we know?”
“Enough to cause panic and wreak havoc,” said Sarbek. “None of our towns or villages are safe.””
“But as far as we know, there are not enough of them to threaten the Dor,” said Ector.
“Pray Odin that you are right,” said Sverdes. “A troop of these would be hard to stop, even for our best.”” The alchemist lowered his voice to normal speaking levels — a whisper for him. “The organs, as I explained — they have more of them than any other creature that I've seen. So many differences between the troll and everything else in nature is very strange, very unlikely.”
“What are you saying?” said Sarbek.
“I'm saying that either this thing, call it a troll or whatever name you like, is of some line of creatures long died out, the last race of its kind, or else, it's not of Midgaard at all.”
“Not of Midgaard?” said Ector. “You mean to say it's something conjured by magic? By some wizard? Something called up from the nether realms? Haven’’t we had enough of that business of late?”
“Perhaps,” said Sverdes. “It's just too different from everything else found in nature. It shouldn't exist. Yet it does.””
“Why are all these things happening now?” said Ector. “One crazy thing after another? The gateway in the Vermion. Jude being taken captive. That messenger that attacked the Dor. And all the rest. Why now?”
“Things are stirring again in Midgaard, young master,” said Sverdes. “Old things. Dark things. Things out of legend. Evils from the bowels of Midgaard. Things from the Dawn Age. There have been hints of this for some time. For a couple of years at least. Signs, portents. Omens. Perhaps these trolls crawled out of some mountain cave for the first time in centuries. Or perhaps they've been called up from hell itself. Who knows?”
***
“You know that they are still out there?” said Ector to Sarbek as they walked through the central tower’s imposing corridors, four guardsmen trailing them. “They didn't chase us all the way here only to turn around and head back to their lair.”
“We have to put them down,” said Sarbek. “Every last one. Tough work it will be if they don't face us for a standup fight. But it has to be done, and quickly. With the Dor and the Outer Dor on lockdown, all trade and travel is held up. We can't keep the people boxed in here too long. We'll have riots on our hands.”
“That's all we need,” said Ector.