The Troll-Demon War

by Leah R. Cutter

  Trunks. Half a dozen of them. Each about three feet by two feet, and a foot tall. Filled to the brim with gold coins. Or beautiful gems and jewels.

  King Garethen could smell the wealth contained in those trunks.

  He’d met with Manny several times now, always listening to the cambion’s pleas, how scared he was for his people now that war was imminent.

  They just needed access to the human plane. And quickly, too, so that the cambions who were more human than demon would have a place to escape to when the full demons came calling.

  It was a charity action, really, that the king was considering. Something that not only wouldn’t harm Trollville, but would actually help it in the long run, given the amount of coin that he was getting for such a little thing.

  It did mean going behind Princess Kizalynn’s back. Not that she’d ever find out about it. The king would make sure of that.

  He was doing the right thing here, despite the niggling worry that somehow he was being tricked.

  He couldn’t see where the trick was, though. The protection spells that he’d set up still held. He wasn’t being influenced by the demons as far as he could tell.

  No, he was just looking the other way when they came through Trollville, on their way elsewhere.

  Demons—and in particular, the cambions—wouldn’t dare to stay inside the borders of Trollville. He trusted the trolls to be able to take care of themselves if there were any demons stupid enough to linger.

  “So do we have a deal?” Manny asked. He was still a disgusting example of a being, with his dripping snot, the hair sprouting from his various warts slimy with grease, his eyes as mesmerizing as an abyss.

  Slowly, cautiously, King Garethen nodded. “We need to go over the latest changes to the contract,” the king said. “But I think that the last few details can be smoothed out.”

  He didn’t like the suddenly gleam in Manny’s eye.

  And he really didn’t like having to lean over and shake Manny’s hand.

  Nothing really bad would come of this, or so the king assured himself.

  Plus, all that gold…

  Chapter Thirty

  Lars kept a serious mien, though he felt like chortling, or even cavorting.

  Stupid princess troll had taken the bait. She’d sent her armies into the untethered planes, stripping many of the kith and kin worlds of their natural defenses and fighters.

  She had no idea the Hell that Lars was about to unleash.

  Lars still wore his human form, working from the office that had gradually taken shape. The maps on the walls were covered with pins, showing where his armies waited. Lines led from the pins to the other planes, where the battles would actually take place. His desk was littered with memos from the awaiting generals, all chomping at the bit, wanting to finally get on with it.

  That had been one of his biggest victories, not just to get the various generals into place, but to get them to actually agree to his plan instead of them acting out and starting mayhem on their own.

  Of course, the longer that Lars waited, the greater the chance that someone would jump the gun.

  Lars couldn’t afford to wait too long. He just needed for Christine to get herself into place as well. Instead of staying safely here on the human plane, or even in Trollville (though wouldn’t she be surprised when she learned what her uncle had been up to?)

  The corrupted corruptions spells were working beautifully. No one even suspected the demonic influence that was taking place.

  True, the trolls had been a lot harder to corrupt than most. It had taken several of the seemingly innocuous gifts to be placed in the Hall of Viewing before the king had started to be influenced at all.

  But he’d finally fallen under the demonic spells, as had most of the rest of the beings Lars and his minions had focused on.

  All Lars had to do now was to give the order.

  As soon as Christine was in place, or rather, out of place, he would do just that.

  And the Great War would begin.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Christine hadn’t wanted to leave the human plane. It would be better for her to direct her armies from there rather than traveling to the kith and kin planes. In terms of communications, it was much simpler for her to be in a single location, for messengers to come to her rather than having to track her down.

  However, what kind of general never visited, let alone fought, beside her own troops? That may have been acceptable for human armies, but not for Christine, and particularly not for the kith and kin. It was a matter of trust as much as anything else.

  Christine had personally recruited many of the kith and kin armies. They needed to see her mettle. Staying behind the lines of fire would cause them to question their choices.

  So Christine arranged a tour, visiting the various troops on the planes where they’d been stationed. Not all were on the planes where the demons were located. She’d also sent them to the worlds that were considered the most vulnerable, places where the beings relied primarily on a magical defense and weren’t physical fighters.

  She was on the last of those planes now—Daisilium—the world of the flower people.

  It was a lovely world, though a bit too warm for Christine’s tastes. She preferred the clouds and rain of Seattle. Very few forests interrupted the endless green fields. Hills gently undulated across the plains, nothing sharp or steep. Christine had never realized how too much of the same bothered her. Her eyes kept skipping around, looking for some kind of variety in the landscape.

  Still, the air here smelled good, of fresh grass, good earth, and bitter pollen. Breezes kept away some of the heat caused by the burning sun. The greenery of the world brightened Christine’s heart.

  The flower people themselves were willowy. Their hair stood out around their heads like petals, usually white, though some were orange or even purple. Their bodies seemed to be composed of brown and green vines.

  One of the things that Christine found most disturbing about the flower people was that she could never predict where a limb might be coming from. While the flower people sort of had a front and a back, any of the vines that made up their bodies could detach itself and become something like a hand or a foot.

  Christine had never met any of the flower people before. They rarely traveled, and in the past five years while she’d been the guardian for the fairy-bridge, she’d never seen one.

  The demons were still grouped just under the trees to the south. Christine’s people had them surrounded. The flower people kept the army of the kith and kin hidden. They were very good at illusions. Christine doubted that the demons even knew that anyone else was there.

  However, the demons weren’t going to be able to escape and attack the Daisilium, not without fighting through an army of the kith and kin.

  Christine was too aware of how outnumbered her armies were. Even here, the demons outnumbered her fighting force two to one. Many of the kith and kin races hadn’t come to her side. They felt that while they might not owe a strong allegiance to their old allies the demons, they didn’t want to actively fight against them.

  Christine wondered sometimes about the old saying of how all it took for evil to flourish was for good men to do nothing.

  Would the insistence of so many races of the kith and kin to remain neutral be their downfall?

  Christine was just finishing her review of the troops. Most of the beings here were the rowdy boys, who were tall and pale, always cracking jokes. Their magic was related to cold and freezing things, which made sense, as Christine suspected that they had some frost giant blood in them.

  Mainly though, the rowdy boys were fierce fighters, depending on a physical attack. Their primary weapon were huge wooden clubs, six or eight feet tall. Frequently, the wood was reinforced with a bar of metal in the middle of it, and they had a spiked head as well. They used a variant of their fighting club in one of their many sports. This one was similar to a hockey stick and involved knocking a ball ar
ound on an ice field. That they also were allowed to bash in each other’s heads while playing seemed to be just a side benefit.

  Ozlandia stayed at Christine’s side. She wasn’t there as a bodyguard—Christine could take care of herself, thank you very much. Ozlandia’s presence primarily gave Christine more of an air of legitimacy. Christine herself was an important person. Of course, she’d have a guard. That Ozlandia was the head of the guard for the king of the trolls gave Christine greater stature.

  Christine wasn’t great at the politics or war, but she was getting better at it.

  One of the demons appeared at the edge of the woods just as Christine was getting ready to go.

  Wait. She knew that demon. He was tall and red, and looked almost exactly like the demon she’d fought at the world of the fawns, with a huge belly, deadly tusks, and red leather skin.

  And he was staring directly at her.

  “We have a problem,” Christine said, interrupting the latest joke from the head of the rowdy boys.

  “What do you mean?” Gilmasso asked, looking around. “The other team hasn’t come to steal the ball, has it?” He looked over his shoulder at the long string of rowdy boys with a grin.

  “No,” Christine said. She’d already expressed her fear that the rowdy boys would be too busy with their games that they’d be caught unaware when the battle actually started.

  Ozlandia said quietly over Christine’s shoulder, “I see him.”

  While the rest of the demons went about their business—desecrating trees, sharpening weapons, and farting—the one demon continued to stare at them.

  And now he’d taken a step out from under the trees. Directly toward them.

  “You ready?” Christine asked Gilmasso as she reached for the ax that was still tied to her back.

  “Ready? I was born ready,” Gilmasso bragged.

  Christine couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Of course, the rowdy boys would use that phrase.

  Gilmasso’s second in command blew a piercing whistle in a complicated pattern, long notes punctuated by short, sharp tweets.

  A growl followed the call to action. Christine found it very satisfying. It held a predatory note that she recognized and responded to with her own loud rumble.

  The demons under the trees all seemed to wake up and realize their predicament. They started pointing at the various troops, shouting obscenities both at them as well as at each other.

  The demon general nodded and started striding directly toward Christine.

  “Is this it?” Ozlandia asked.

  Christine shook her head. “No. This is just a skirmish,” she said as she readied herself.

  This wasn’t the start of the Great War. Just a prelude.

  What happened next would possibly determine the rest, though.

  Christine’s frustration built as the damned demon general stepped around her attack again. She knew from the start that he couldn’t be taken out with a physical attack alone.

  However, the stupid demon had come prepared. Her wind attacks had been ignored, canceled by some charm he wore. Same with her water attacks. (Though shooting him full in the snout every time he was about to cast a gout of fire had at least neutralized that attack of his. Plus, it had been great fun to see his puzzled look when he realized his fire couldn’t get through.)

  While Christine could blast the demon with fire, he was naturally immune to it as he breathed fire himself.

  The best attack she’d managed had been disrupting the earth under his feet. She hadn’t been able to trick him with rocks or lights, getting him to turn his focus on anything but her.

  It was as though he’d studied her, learned her techniques and attacks, and had come prepared.

  Christine hadn’t expected that at all. Particularly not from a demon.

  What could she do that was unexpected? And sneaky? And fast?

  The battle raged on all sides of her, the rowdy boys laughing as they smashed in the heads of demons. However, the demons kept coming. It was as if every one that the boys took out, another two took their place.

  Was it magic? Or had they just miscounted? Had there been a lot more demons hiding in the woods?

  Christine knew that while the demons would fight on once their general was dead, they’d be a lot easier to take down.

  Ozlandia fought her own demon, probably the second in command to the general. He was tall, blue, with great wings and a long, horned snout. He spat acid, a lovely trait that had singed Christine’s armor as well.

  Christine tried with another air attack, just to see if she could get the demon she faced to turn even slightly.

  But her air attack wasn’t as strong as she’d intended. Instead of a gale, it came out more like a light summer breeze.

  Damn it! The demons were neutralizing the magic around them. How were they doing that? No one who Christine had talked with were even aware of how to do such a thing.

  Christine took a running leap at the general, intending a kicking attack. He swatted her away, as she’d intended.

  In the few moments it took for him to close with her again, she looked around.

  No ice existed on the field of battle.

  Which meant that the demons weren’t merely blocking her magic, but all magic.

  Christine dropped a string of lights where she stood. It wasn’t much. The lights themselves shone feebly, as if they’d been covered by a thick fog. They wouldn’t float in the air, either, but crept along the ground, heading slowly for the demon.

  It was the best she could do. Since the demon seemed so focused on her, she could use that to her advantage.

  Christine swung her great ax with the flat side, intending to merely bash the demon’s leg.

  He stepped nimbly out of the way. At least he didn’t move as fast as his brother, though he still had that disturbing fast-film look when he moved quickly.

  The demon returned the favor, and kicked at Christine, forcing her to back away.

  Damn, he was fast. And big. And he had a much longer reach than Christine.

  What could she do? How could she win?

  Could she win?

  Christine growled low and deep in her chest.

  She could fight. And not just the demon in front of her, but the negative thoughts suddenly floating around her.

  More demon magic.

  They were not unstoppable. They were not immortal or destined to win.

  Her troops could kill them.

  As could she.

  Christine slashed out with her ax, swinging it from one side to the other, as if harvesting wheat with it, forcing the demon back.

  He glanced down when he realized he’d stepped close to her creeping line of lights.

  He laughed, he actually laughed, as he stomped his foot down.

  Christine kept her scowl, despite how perfectly the sound effect worked, and a tinkling breaking glass noise filled the air.

  The demon laughed again and stomped down on more of the lights.

  Perfect.

  While the demon had been distracted by the pretty lights, he’d ignored that they were strung together by a rope.

  With her air power, Christine quickly wrapped the rope around the demon’s ankles. He couldn’t kick out and break the binding, or even run away. He had to stay still.

  When he leaned over to slash at the rope with his claws, Christine leaped into the air with her mighty ax and came down, swinging the ax sideways and slashing at the demon’s exposed throat.

  With a muffled whump, the demon crumpled and fell to the side.

  Christine jumped over the legs of the demon and attacked again, from behind, not giving the demon a chance to reach her with his still-deadly claws.

  She couldn’t quite sever the head from the body with a single blow. His damned spinal cord was too thick for that. But she put enough of a gash across his throat that he’d never rise again.

  A shock wave went across the battlefield when the general of the demons died.

&nb
sp; Christine expected the fighting to grow more desperate as the demons fought on.

  She had not expected them to retreat immediately, racing toward the trees.

  Did they expect to use some sort of portal and escape?

  Christine’s troops raced after the demons, as did Christine and Ozlandia. They had to see where the demons were going to next.

  Christine didn’t bother fighting the few stragglers she passed. Sure, she swiped at them with her ax. But she let the rowdy boys who were following her take care of them.

  The smell of filth and corrupted earth nearly made Christine retch. What the hell had the demons been doing?

  A wide circle of trees had been cut down, the demons making an unnatural clearing. In the center of the clearing lay a vast, dark hole. It was at least twelve feet in diameter. A swirling blackness filled the center of it, sickly and foreboding.

  The demons streamed by where Christine and Ozlandia had paused, leaping into the dark portal.

  Where were they going? Why would they leave so suddenly?

  Christine had to find out.

  She shouted over to one of the rowdy boys, “Stay here! Guard against any who may return!”

  He nodded and started organizing his fellows.

  Then Ozlandia, with a grim nod, grabbed onto Christine’s arm.

  Christine twisted her hand so that she could clasp Ozlandia’s arm in return. They each held their great ax in the other hand.

  As one, they stepped into the abyss.

  Christine looked around her with surprise.

  The demon portal had landed them in the plane of the Kimukaki, one of the first warrior races who had joined Christine’s army. The Kimukaki were a proud race, with white, dog-like faces, ears that hung down like a beagle’s, and fierce claws.

  Why would the demons come here? The Kimukaki were primarily physical fighters. They had minor magic.

  The town was cute, with tall, skinny wooden buildings and many open windows (the Kimukaki loved hanging their heads out of windows and sniffing mightily at any and all breezes.) The street itself was paved with red brick. Dancing fountains marked every other intersection.