Necklace of Memories (3)

The booth was situated on the town side of the river, and a hammered metal sign was nailed into the brickwork on the farside. It stated ‘Manned by Troll Bridge Guardian from dusk til dawn. By the order of Lord Lennox, 901 AD.’ Lord Lennox’s sigil of a blue dolphin was stamped at the bottom of the sign. Approaching the bridge was a coach pulled by bulls with three crew on the coach, two upfront, one at the back. A crest of two picks crossed over three rocks was painted on the carriage doors. Behind the coach were six men, obviously slaves, carrying a shroud clad figure on their shoulders. They shivered as they jogged through the light snow flurry. A raven screamed as it flew high above the coach and descended into the town, its silver band on its leg glinting in the half moonlight.

The coach stopped on the bridge before the portcullis barring entrance to the town. A voice rang out from the open window of the coach. It was aimed towards the figure appearing from the tollbooth beside the gate.“Who’s there?” The troll snorted at the stupid question. Looking down at her uniform she slowly placed a thick finger on a bronze badge on her hat with the letters ‘Azazi’ stencilled in the soft metal. “Me name is Azazi, and Lord Lennox tell personally ‘imself ta me that I’ms bridge guard called Ian.” The stony brows creased at processing this contradictory information. Although smaller in height, the green eyed figure inside the coach was similar in width. The male staring down at the troll rubbed his nose wearily with closed eyes. Yellow eyes opened and the orc said in a slow cadence “He meant ‘Bridge Guardian’ not a guard called Ian.” Removing his hand from his nose, and switching his gaze to the empty seat opposite him the orc whispered to himself “Saints preserve us from the this rockbrain.” Then looking out again he said more loudly “Right, right, right ask away. What is your question?”

Azazi narrowed her eyes and mumbled “Me’s furget question…” Shuffling her fur clad feet inside the stone tollbooth, she ripped out a hangnail with her teeth. “What’s yer name anyways Orc?” the troll grinned as she thought of a question, displaying a mangled array of chipped and yellowing teeth. The orc replied slowly again “I am Thane Thorkill, Brettagrut mine owner and these are all my men.“ The troll peered around the coach. “All my thralls carry the same sigil as you can see on this coach” said Thorkill as he put his arm out the window and banged on the carriage door. “I need to get into Hamtun tonight, so open the gate before the sun comes up and you become a permanent fixture.” The troll creaked at the thought of turning to stone and slowly pulled the chain to raise the metal portcullis. Snow sloughed off the chain and gate to join the mush below. “Gud travels m’lord” the troll said as the coach splashed into town. As the last slave passed the troll, she started to lower the metal gate. She then noticed a slight figure walking down the hill towards the bridge. Azazi watched for the few minutes it took the figure to slog through the snow.

The figure shape was unknown to Azazi, but the movement was very familiar. The moon highlighted the face of an older female human as she emerged from the field onto the road. Bright blue eyes were luminescent in the dark, which was unusual as human eyes were normally flat and brown. The stern face drilled a stare towards the troll as she marched forward, a brown parcel in her gloved hands. The guardian bowed her head and said “Evening grandmother, Thorkill is here.” The troll jumped to catch the parcel thrown at her as the human strode past. A thin high voice said “Make sure the Lord Lennox gets this before noon, or I will have your dog ration cut.” The Troll juggled with the parcel twice before finally securing it in her large mitts. “Unopened and undamaged AND uneaten.” said Grandmother as she continued her way into Hamtun. Reaching a crossroads she studied the ground briefly before following the fresh carriage tracks through the cow dung littering the street. The troll quietly crept back into her tollbooth and placed the brown paper parcel into the mail basket. Something was moving inside, and it did not smell like dog.

Overhead, the raven had set off again back the way it came. The message scroll had been delivered to the mansion, and the chief eunuch had sent thralls scurrying to wake the remaining servants, whilst he descended to the Lords dungeon to inform the family of their expected visitor. Passing under a dolphin sigil etched into the wall above the dungeon stairs, the eunuch stuffed spices up his nose to take the edge off the smell as he descended the ancient steps.

Far away Emrys was having a bad dream. A memory the Investigator had stolen from a dead man yesterday kept repeating in his dreams. A middle aged human woman with blue eyes was serving him chocolate cake or sometimes spider pies. Still half asleep, a fleeting thread suggested this was impossible, as memories from dead people are supposed to be gone once viewed from a memory pearl. He woke up with a start and his one blue and one brown eye both flicked open. The half elf wondered why a human would have elven eyes.