We had to camp at the roadside that day, just like Zul'gar had predicted. It hadn't been as bad as I had originally feared though. He had managed to pick a pretty decent spot for our camp and there had even been time to do some hunting. So we had some meat for dinner. I even managed to get a halfway decent night of sleep. There had been no stones or roots under my bedroll and my sister's familiar had kept me warm through the night surprisingly enough. Her purrs were pretty relaxing as well. The cat was growing onto me quickly despite our less than stellar first encounter. That had been yesterday though. By the time I had to get up for the next day's trek I was afraid that Zul'gar's fears would be proven right sooner rather than later. I woke up with a light fever. It wasn't the kind of fever I knew from Kaele's healing spells either. And it got worse as the day progressed.

As we reached the toll bridge I was barely clinging on. These bridges were marvelous structures. Not because they were ornate or gaudy but because they were utilitarian and most importantly sturdy. Trolls built things to last. They didn't skimp on maintenance either. They were among the most long lived people living in the lands around Bleak Peak so of course they built things to last. Two of them were awaiting us in front of the gate house on this side of the gorge which the bridge crossed. They were big. Not just tall but big. Even when compared to me or anyone else for that matter. What looked like stony scabs covered much of their skin or at least what was visible of it. It made them look like they were rocks that had come alive. They weren't but they liked to cultivate that image as far as I knew. These two were warriors, judging by their looks. One young and the other older. Much older. That one probably was the young one's mentor.

The others had stopped along the road a little distance from the bridge. The younger of the two trolls walked along the caravan as they did, counting people and animals. This count would determine the bridge toll we would have to pay. I in turn headed towards the old troll that was waiting for us, using my wyvern bone glaive as a walking stick once more and leaning on Zul'gar as well at the same time. Kaele was following us with a little distance as her mount carried the purse with our coin. The old troll raised a hand in greeting. “An. Interesting. Cargo. You. Have. There.” His way of speaking was odd, each word emphasized as if it were a sentence of its own. His voice was deep and rumbling as if rocks were grinding against each other. Both was to be expected and it made for an interesting combination. This was just how trolls were. If I were in better shape I might have even appreciated it.

I fought past the fever and the pain that had started wracking my body some time during the day and nodded. “We hail from Caer'zoth. We were attacked by an army hailing from Gothol'uin recently and are on our way to the capital to deliver the steel we got of their bodies to the royal treasury.” He eyed me, as I told him this very brief version of our story. Maybe I should have told it in greater detail. Maybe I should have embellished it a little. Both was beyond me right now though. Without Zul'gar's help I probably wouldn't have managed to remain standing upright. Telling a good story was just about the thing furthest from my mind right now.

Just then the younger troll returned. He had finished assessing our caravan. “Twenty four. Iron. Crowns.” And judging by his statement he already calculated our bridge toll as well. There was no haggling about it either. Only fools would even try to. Trolls took the whole toll business very serious after all. The big advantage of that was, that you could utterly trust them not to cheat you. As far as I knew the thought wouldn't ever cross their minds. It was one less thing I had to worry about. The next words of the young troll surprised me though. “You. Don't. Look. Good.” It was a pretty blunt statement but I couldn't fault him for it. Not really. He was only saying out loud what probably was on everyone's mind after all.

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I grimaced anyway. “I don't feel good either.” I motioned for Kaele to move closer so I could reach the still well filled purse that contained the coin for our traveling expenses. “Damn ghoul leading the humans stabbed me before I finally chopped its head off.” I wasn't emphasizing my words the way the trolls did but each and every one of them took more effort than it should have. Just as I opened the purse the last of my strength left me and the heavy thing slipped from my fingers. A few of the heavy iron coins spilled forth as the purse landed on the ground in between us. I tried to pick it back up and would have fallen if Zul'gar weren't still supporting me. My sister gasped and jumped from her mount as well, to hurry to my side.

“You. Killed. A. Ghoul?” That was the younger troll. He sounded like he couldn't quite belief me. Well I couldn't blame him for that either. I still couldn't quite belief it myself after all. A ghoul in our lands? Leading an army? It was entirely unheard off.

I shook my head though. I had to correct him on a not so little detail of some importance. “No. I chopped its head off. That damn thing still isn't quite dead. I'm not even sure if it was really alive to begin with.” I grimaced. “We have its head along in a sealed container.”

I tried to grab the purse again, but Kaele was faster. She gathered up the spilled coins as well and started counting them into the hand of the older troll. “Could your healers look at her wound?” She sounded pretty worried. Almost as if she were holding back tears and just barely succeeding at it. “Our priestess cast some healing spells and I did as well, but she has been getting worse lately … and … and nothing I can do is helping.”

The old troll grumbled. It wasn't a sound of dissatisfaction or irritation though. He closed his big hand around the coins and made them disappear into a pouch at his belt. A pouch larger than any backpack I had ever used. “My. Brother. He. Helped. Build. Caer'zoth's. Fortifications.” He grumbled again. It sounded almost like a laugh. “We. Laughed. We. Thought. It. A. Fools. Errand. Back. Then.”

I joined his laugh at that. My laugh sounded more like a half choked cough though. It certainly must have seemed a fools errand with no real enemies anywhere nearby. “I'm glad he built our walls and homes. His work saved many lives. I'm sure.” And I meant every word I said.

The old troll nodded. “I'm. Glad.” He paused briefly. “And. Sorry.” I could relate with that statement. It was good to hear your relatives work was no wasted effort. Too bad that so much blood had to be spilled to prove its worth though. He patted the younger troll on the shoulder. “Take. Her. To. See. The. Shamans.” Before I could get in another word I was picked up, almost like a little child. The younger troll didn't waste any time. He cradled me against his chest with one arm and swung himself over the edge of the bridge with the other. Under different circumstances I might have screamed or puked at the sudden movement. Right now though all I managed was to cling closer to him as he climbed down the side of the bridge until he reached a cave like entrance in the cliff side. As we entered I finally closed my eyes and a blessed, cool darkness surrounded me.