Trolls stink.
The bigger, older and deadlier they are, the more they stink.
This one smelt like a cross between a wet dog, swamp mud and foot rot. I could smell this downwind of it as I unsaddled my horse. While slipping my rifle and hatchet out of their sheaths, I threw my saddle across an old stump.
This was as far as I could take Old Greedy Guts, as Trolls loved to eat horses, and horses were super skittish once they got the scent of them. I was about 10 minutes on foot to where this one had holed up in a cave near the river. The bounty on this one was massive, and with winter coming, I needed something like this to see me through to spring.
I never mess with Trolls if I can help it.
It is not just that they are huge, ferocious, and highly intelligent. It’s all this combined that entire teams of hunters can quickly get wiped out of existence, but for me.
It was just how bad these buggers smelled.
Well, that and my hand cannons and rifle would have little effect on them unless I shot it right through the eyes or placed the muzzles close enough that I was in reaching distance.
I licked my finger and assessed which direction the breeze was coming from, and I was still downwind of it.
Crouching low and heading off, I started towards the cave. Making sure I was not spotted or heard as I slowly crept towards the cave, edging left as I did.
It was so strange for a Cave Troll to be this close to civilization. I am guessing the proximity to water and not too far from the trade road was perfect for a continuous source of protein.
Sweat started trickling down the back of my neck as I flanked the entrance to the Troll’s den when I heard the rattles of wheels and the clop of hooves in the distance. It sounded like they were coming from where I had tied up Greedy Guts.
I stopped all movement and crouched as low as I could behind a small clump of bushes. Straining my ears, I could hear a voice down towards my horse and activity from the cave.
Shit, I was not in a great position. As I had that exact thought, a Troll, much larger than what the mayor had told me to expect, bounded out of the cave entrance. It barreled past where I was hiding, clipping me with its back foot and headed towards the sound.
This was no cave troll. It was at least 3 meters tall and as broad as a bear. It had to be a Mountain Troll. It didn’t even notice me, as its back foot knocked me off my feet and left me slightly dizzy.
It was moving much faster than a well-bred racing horse at full gallop, and there was no way I would make it to Greedy before it was on her. I hoped the Troll zeroed in on the idiot making the noise first.
Taking much less care than I did on the way up to the cave mouth, I moved with purpose towards the roar quickly accompanied by a crash and a spine-chilling scream.
I moved into a run and whipped out both my hand cannons as I saw a merchant carriage on its side and the Troll with its arms around Greedy Guts. Holding her down, there was a crunching sound as it closed in on her neck. At that moment, a caravan guard flew at the Troll and stabbed it in the back.
The Mountian Troll dropped my horse from his jaws and turned around to grab the guard by the head with one hand and the body with the other and twisted. With a squelch, the poor fellow’s head popped off.
Another guard jumped from the upturned cart and launched himself, swinging at the Troll’s face.
The Troll snatched him out of the air, plucked his sword out of his hands and, with both hands, ripped him in two.
I have to admit this all happened so quickly that I was in a state of shock.
Partly because I had grown a bit attached to my horse, but more so, I was not sure what to do with a Mountain Troll.
They were big, and they were fast. I just witnessed how fast.
I could see the caravan guard still screaming, trying to pull his guts back into his body where he had been thrown aside as it went back to munching on my horse.
The guard looked around and saw me.
He tried to say something, but blood had started to bubble out of his mouth as his lungs were probably filling with blood.
Thankfully, that did silence his screaming.
I holstered my hand cannons and pulled out my rifle.
Taking a breath, I aimed for the mountain Troll’s ear and fired.
There was a roar and a gush of blood as its head cocked to the side, and it covered its ear and turned around.
That seemed to make it mad, and its eyes locked onto me.
I quickly slid the bolt back, lowered my aim to its knee, and fired as I rolled to my left.
I watched as its leg crumbled from where its kneecap used to be, and I dropped my rifle, pulled out my hand cannon and aimed for its other knee. I ducked while aiming and completely missed its leg altogether, but my second shot took it through the wrist that had just clumsily tried to swipe at me.
Its hand flopped uselessly after taking a hit point-blank range from these babies. I was surprised it had not blown the hand straight off, but Trolls were made of flesh stronger than leather.
I stepped back and opened fire at its mouth as it roared its agony towards me, unleashing both barrels at the centre of its opened maw.
There was a gush of blood and a gurgle as it fell to one side.
I grabbed my hatchet from where it was strapped to my leg and aimed for its neck, attempting to remove its head. Four more hard swings later, its head thudded to the ground.
I holstered one of my hand cannons and walked over to where Greedy Guts was and
I placed my hand on her nose.
I closed my eyes briefly as I had grown attached to her.
She had been a great companion, and then I looked around and realized this was not where I had hitched her. My saddle bags were not on the stump where I had left them, and she had cart straps on her.
Moving over towards the upturned carriage, I saw there was a third body underneath the coach, with a large hole through his chest. The Troll must have launched at him first.
Glancing over at the headless body of the second guard, I noticed his armour was very ill-fitting. I frowned and went to the back of the cart.
Kicking open the rear door of the carriage, I found exactly what I had expected.
My bloody saddlebags, but now there is no horse to ride them.
I quickly opened the left side pouch on my saddle bag and unfurled a roll of papers.
Leafing through a few pages, I pulled out three and returned to the guy under the merchant carriage.
”Well shit,” I said as I held up the wanted picture against his face. “The bloody Pieser brothers.” kicking the corpse, I looked over at the other two and held up their warrants. “Yep, that’s you alright, cheeky pricks”.
It looks like they had moved on from horse thievery to outright murder as they were dressed in caravan guard armour. I am guessing they had killed the original merchant and his guards and were trying to pass themselves off as them.
Looking down at the ground, I slowly followed the hoof prints and found their discarded horse grazing in the distance.
They must have unhitched their horse to hitch Greedy Guts to the cart when the Troll had barreled in and attacked them.
Leaving it to graze for now, I did not want to make it more skittish than it probably already was. I returned to the carriage and looked over their ill-gotten gains.
Most boxes were empty, and the luggage box was strewn about. I rustled through the luggage, whistling as I picked up a pouch of gems and a box of gold and silver coins.
”Greedy fuckers” I said out loud. They could not help themselves even though they had a small fortune in the cart here.
I opened my saddle bags and stuffed the pouch of coins and the box of gems into the other.
I should keep quiet about these, but the reward for these brothers and the bounty on this Troll from the township was nothing to sneeze at.
I took some rope from the back of the cart and quietly walked to where their cart horse was grazing.
It did not even move as I placed the rope around his neck. He was an excellent, docile workhorse perfect for pulling a stagecoach or a cart.
I looked down as he walked beside me to the carriage and mess the Mountain Troll had made. I noticed he was slightly lame on his front left side.
So, riding him was not an option, and I doubt he had ever been ridden.
Before anything else, I went back through the carriage to see if I had missed anything valuable and spotted what was probably a hidden compartment. It had been slightly dislodged and was ajar from when the Troll toppled the cart.
Busting it open, I slid out another larger box with the Queens’ emblem across it.
Damn, well, this just got to be more trouble than it was worth. This was one of the Kingdom’s spy merchants. Once I found this compartment, I could not even consider claiming the brothers’ heads for the bounty.
It would lead back to me, and messing with the Kingdom was not worth its trouble.
I should probably leave the head of the Troll, but returning empty-handed was not an option and would raise more questions. I would stink like a Troll for weeks until I changed clothes and had a decent bath. It would not take a switched-on sheriff to take one whiff of me and know I had been messing around with Trolls.
Walking anywhere else would take weeks without a decent horse to ride, and I have mentioned that I do not love the smell of Trolls. They reek so much worse when they are dead.
I drew my hatchet again, quickly started cutting branches, and put them both over the corpses of Greedy Guts and the Troll, as both were too large for me to move.
I gathered up the two halves of one of the brothers and the headless corpse of the other. His head had rolled under the cart, and I left it there as it would burn just as well where it was. I was in a hurry to get this done before anyone else might accidently pass by.
I have zero idea why they had even come up this way, as it was a bit off the trade road. Maybe they wanted to camp out for the night. They probably rest up and get their story straight before entering the township under the guise of a merchant and his guards.
I do not know but regardless, what a pain in the ass.
I had noticed a cask of lamp fluid in the back of the carriage while rummaging through it. Climbing back in, I grabbed it, busting the barrel open with my hatchet and liberally pouring it over the Troll, horse, and cart.
Throwing a few more branches over the merchants’ carriage, I pulled out my wick lighter and sparked.
The lamp fluid roared to life, and I had to scramble back before it took my eyebrows.
Chopping a smaller branch, I lit its end with the fire from the Troll.
Standing over Greedy Guts, I silently thanked her for the years she had given me and set her to flame.
I then threw the branch at the cart, which took to it like the carriage was kindling.
Walking to where I had tied the cart horse well away from the area so she did not get frightened and tried to run off, I unkotted the reigns from the branch and walked her towards the trade road.
It took three days to walk back to the township, and by that time, I smelt as bad as the head I was carrying and was thirstier than a dry river bed. My feet were sore, and I was looking forward to a night in a bed and a bath.
End of part one of a serialized story. It is an ode to the fantasy novels I grew up with but with my twist on the genre.
I plan on making a small Novella about the outsider gunslinger, and I am using Substack as a testing place for people to read and give suggestions and improvements.
Please feel free to subscribe, as my subscription is free.