TST (59 page)

“There be no trolls under Bracknar’s bridge,” he declared with relief.

“Then I’m afraid that you cannot collect any tolls,” Azerick told him and began walking towards the bridge once more.

Bracknar whipped the huge club down off his shoulder and stopped Azerick with the end of it. “This Bracknar’s bridge, not troll bridge! You pay toll or you die!”

Bracknar did not know anything about troll tolls but he knew this was his bridge and people had paid his tolls before.

“No, you will let me cross the bridge or you will die,” Azerick countered with certainty.

Now Bracknar was thoroughly confused. He thought he had solved the toll dilemma but now it seemed that the usual options had changed. Bracknar had been charging tolls to use the bridge for months using the same two options, pay or die. It had been rather successful even though technically the bridge did not belong to him.

It was already here when he found it, he simply decided that he could make money or get items in exchange for allowing the humans to cross it and so far, it had worked out rather well. It was a small fee since he could not count beyond two or three and most farmers and the occasional travelers simply gave him a couple coppers or a piece of food without complaint just to avoid having trouble or getting squished.

Bracknar sat down on a stump a short ways from the end of the bridge to try to figure out this sudden change in the rules. Bracknar had two rules, they pay or they die. Now this human says that he crosses or Bracknar dies. The giant held up two fat stubby fingers on his club hand indicating his two rules and two fat stubby fingers on his stupid hand, the one that did not work as well as the other, indicating the two rules the human had put forth. He tried to count his fingers but immediately realized that the numbers involved exceeded his ability to count them.

One, two, three, and one more after three. What came after three?
Bracknar dislodged another battalion of fleas as he scratched his head in confusion. He thought he had solved the riddle when he saw that he now only had two fingers up like he was supposed to but as soon as he stopped scratching the other two came back and the problem remained. He forced himself to focus on the three fingers plus one, which made his belly grumble from the exertion imposed upon it because everyone knows that the center for thought came from the stomach.

The giant counted his fingers once more.
One, two, three, and one more. What was that number that came after three?
He was pretty sure it started with the same letter that made the sound of the first letter in foot.
Farth, flern, flem?
No, it was none of those he was sure. Bracknar decided he would just call it foot. Now, his two rules were— one, pay the toll or two, you die. It was simple and that was what he liked about his rules.

Then he looked at the two fingers he held up on his stupid hand and counted. Three, the human crosses his bridge, or foot, Bracknar dies. Bracknar immediately determined that foot was not a good option. He looked back and forth between the two pairs of fingers for several moments until he figured out that there were now twice as many rules as there used to be.

How did two turn into foot?
He gave up on using his fingers; they were not helping at all and instead picked up two sticks that lay near his feet. He looked at the two ends of the stick that he used to indicate his two very simple rules. Two sticks for two rules; nobody could argue that obvious fact.

 
So where did the other two rules come from?

 
Bracknar glanced down at the ends of the two sticks that stuck out from the bottom of his hand. There it was! There were two sticks at the other end too!

This must be where the other two rules came from.

His stomach rumbled loudly at the exertion imposed upon coming up with such sound mathematical reasoning.

Bracknar folded the bottom ends of the two sticks up so that they were in line with the top ends so that they were easier to count. A sharp crack sounded near the middle of the sticks as he bent them upwards to stand next the other two ends.

Now the giant had foot sticks for foot rules but he had to break the sticks in order to get that many.

That was it! Two sticks could only become foot sticks if you broke them!

Therefore, it stood to reason that two rules could only become foot rules if they were broken. That meant…what did that mean? His stomach roared in protest, sending a deep ache of hunger surging through his thinking spot as he tried to come up with the answer.

With a final groan from his stomach that hurt so bad it almost doubled him over, Bracknar had his answer.
The human had broken the rules!

Now Bracknar was angry because the human had cheated, he was also extremely proud of himself for his logical deductive reasoning, but mostly he was hungry from having to expend so much energy coming up with the answer.

He stood up ready to confront the cheeky human for trying to cheat him but saw that the cheat had already crossed his bridge and was now rather far away. The thought of chasing after the sneaky, cheating human made his stomach rumble even more so he decided it would be best just to let it go and get something to eat instead.

Azerick enjoyed the brief distraction with the simple lowland giant and was surprised to find that he felt good about having dealt with the situation without having to resort to violence. He knew as sure as he breathed that he could have killed the dimwitted brute without effort but there had been no need. He was tired of the instrument for so many needless deaths.

A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR

I hope you enjoyed this fun little tale and will try my other works (when I get up the nerve to once again expend the energy needed to edit them). Please drop by at
http://www.brockd.us
and give them a read. Feel free to look me up on facebook!You can also check me out on my NEW blog at
http://brockdeskins.blogspot.com
. I post release dates, answer questions, and occasionally some new covers for my books!

The
Sorcerer’s saga
is an open-ended fantasy series of a young boy of wealth who loses everything before discovering great potential as a sorcerer while trying to survive on the deadly streets he now must call home. Travel with young Azerick as he grows up, grows strong, and grows steadfast in his determination to survive and make those pay who have taken everything from him.

Shrouds of Darkness
is a modern day vampire tale. Who doesn’t like those these days? Leo Malone has been a vampire for the better part of the twentieth century. Once a prominent Sherriff (vampire cop), he now earns his living as a private eye and occasional bodyguard for anyone that requires some serious protection. Leo is hired by the daughter of a mob accountant who has gone missing.

The fact that he is also a werewolf has Leo following a trail of grisly murders that will lead him through a web of intrigue and conspiracy involving his fellow vampires and the local werewolves that make New York their home, all the while trying to keep one particularly determined cop off his back and himself out of jail. Leo is not some pretty-boy vampire that all the girls ogle over but a hard eyed, remorseless killing machine who doesn’t take crap from anyone.

The Portal
is a fun and exciting story of some less than popular teenagers that accidentally open a portal to a mystical land during one of their role-playing games. Drew, a dour and anti-establishment teenager, is pulled through and captured by evil creatures lying in wait on the other side. Now it is up to his friends and older brother to rescue him, but who will rescue Drew’s captors from him?

Thank you all for your patronage. Buying my books keeps me from living in a box under the overpass, which frankly, is not conducive to the creative process. If you received a copy without actually purchasing it then I hope you will have the decency to feel bad as you drive past me holding my cardboard sign that reads: “will write for food”. Thank you and good journeys.