The Troll-Human War

by Leah R. Cutter

  “For giving me—not hope, but something to think about,” Christine said. “Shadows to watch.”

  She nodded and left the shop, on to fight her next great battle.

  Nik shivered slightly as he considered his shop. His pride and joy. The entire reason why he still lived and breathed, in a manner of speaking.

  Nik’s Emporium and Trade Goods. The only neutral territory for any of the wars, the great ones and the small ones. The place where every being could have a moment away from the battle lines, a safe place where they could breathe, just for a few moments.

  He knew that he’d fulfilled a great service to many beings over the centuries.

  But still…

  Was his continued neutrality worth it? If the demons would really win?

  Nik finished stocking the shelves but he didn’t flip around the “open” sign as it were, didn’t enable the portal for customers, not yet, though he could feel the presence of more than one on the other side.

  Instead, he went into his back room. Above the workbench, he opened up a small pocket of space. It wasn’t a normal spell. The pocket wouldn’t travel anywhere with Nik. It was bound here, to this physical space. It wasn’t impenetrable. But it was very, very, very difficult for anyone besides Nik to find or access.

  Nik understood what the demons were doing with the pocket worlds that humans created, how they were corrupting and influencing them from the outside.

  This pocket wasn’t locatable by them, not using their normal methods.

  And Nik intended to keep it that way.

  He pulled out a small mirror on a stand from the pocket. A yellowed lace handkerchief covered the face of it. The stand looked antique, made of white porcelain with a delicate blue pattern painted on it. A solid gold bar rose from the base, then encircled the mirror itself.

  Nik didn’t remember when he’d acquired this piece. He sometimes felt as though he’d always had it. The piece had a tag on, written in a spindly script, declaring it the Mirror of Truth.

  Nik had never understood why he’d hidden the mirror away. Some half-spoken truths that came to him in a dream, though Nik didn’t truly sleep or dream anymore.

  Or maybe the words had come from that oracle long, long ago.

  Nik sighed and put the mirror back into the pocket and locked it up tightly.

  If Christine came asking for it at the end of her quest, would giving it to her violate his neutrality?

  Hopefully he’d have an answer to that question when the time came.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lars bit back his impatience as he stewed outside Buddy’s throne room. Though his appointment time had come and gone, he was still here, just waiting.

  The hallway was just as old-fashioned as the throne room itself, filled with lava-spewing tiny volcanos placed in the most inconvenient locations, so that a demon, if he wasn’t being careful, would be sure to either burn himself or ruin his clothes. The floor itself wasn’t bad, just boring, plain cement with the occasional crack that burbled with hot tar. The walls looked as though they’d been carved out of rock by an impatient sculptor who’d just hacked out a space and hadn’t bothered smoothing anything over.

  Buddy had summoned Lars back down to Hell to supposedly celebrate his latest victory, or something. To be honest, Lars had barely scanned the invitation.

  He’d only paid attention to the date and time—that he had to make an appearance today, now. Or, rather, seventeen minutes ago. And counting.

  Lars took a deep breath and prepared himself to wait some more. As long as it took. At least that homey sulfur smell soothed him, while not much else did. And he’d come down expecting to be forced to wait.

  This was Hell, after all.

  Although, being able to transform to his full demon body did feel good. A chance to stretch his wings, flex the leather between the tall, bone-like struts, feel the natural heat warm his belly scales. The acid that naturally dripped from his tongue tasted sweeter that morning. Perhaps a diet containing more raw meat—the flesh of his enemies—had helped with that.

  He still had to be careful, though, to not brush against the irregular walls, certain that they’d been fashioned just to catch the unwary off guard and possibly damage one of his back or shoulder scales. And the spikes on his tail really needed some attention. Would have to find some minion to take care of that when he got back to the field.

  On the one claw, Lars was pretty certain that at this time, with the way that things were going, he didn’t really need Buddy anymore. Lars had more than enough recruits for his armies. The generals were obeying him and following his plans for the most part. And the money was pouring in, both through looting the kith and kin worlds after decimating the populations, as well as from the other demon princes wanting to make sure that their PR departments could claim alliance with the victor.

  On the other claw, Buddy had been the first to believe in Lars, to see his brilliance. Even if it had taken a tortuous contract and what had seemed like endless negotiations to finally get those first armies.

  The only part of the contract that hadn’t been redlined and rewritten numerous times was the one iron-clad, non-negotiable clause that specified that if Lars lost the Great War, Buddy would claim his soul.

  While Lars knew that he was quite a catch, he didn’t think that Buddy would sabotage the Great War just to capture Lars’ soul. Or at least, not merely to do that. Even Lars didn’t have that big of an ego. Most days.

  Lars was more of a realist. Or maybe just a natural born politician.

  He understood at a gut level that he needed to keep coming back to Hell on a regular basis to kiss Buddy’s ass so that Buddy wouldn’t have a real excuse to throw the Great War. Lars had to keep winning, and to keep up the appearance of winning, so that Buddy couldn’t recruit other demons to work against Lars.

  Even though it was in their best interests to work together so that they could win the Great War. Lars had no illusions about how the demon princes were all out for themselves and couldn’t see beyond their own fiefdoms.

  However, what Buddy didn’t understand was that Lars had plans for him, too, after the Great War. How Lars would propose a house cleaning after he’d been unanimously voted in as a prince of Hell.

  How Buddy might suddenly find his status reduced.

  Of course, Buddy probably suspected this. You didn’t become a prince of Hell by not understanding the threats around you. But even Buddy wouldn’t suspect what was coming.

  Plans within plans, wheels within wheels.

  Finally, the door to the throne room opened and a herald motioned for Lars to come forward.

  “The Supreme General, Lars Sorgenfreys!”

  The herald’s voice boomed across the…empty room?

  Lars had expected there to be a party. The room should be filled with fawning supplicants. Hadn’t the invitation mentioned a celebration?

  Just Buddy was there, lounging on the throne at one end of the room, legs thrown over the arm, scratching his pot belly with long, yellow claws. The throne room hadn’t changed—it still looked like a set from a B-rated Hollywood movie from the sixties, with all the rocks and lava and such. The throne, too, was such a throwback. Who sat on an iron throne made out of casts of your enemy’s skulls?

  This whole place needed spiffing up. Cleaning up.

  Lars just had to bide his time.

  “Supreme General, eh?” Buddy asked. He gave a loud belch. A flutter of smoke issued from between his flabby lips. The smell of burned tacos filled the room. “Then what should be my title?”

  “Ah, excuse me?” Lars asked, confused.

  That was part of the problem with demons. They all wanted to be generals. He’d had to invent a series of intermediate ranks, such as Squad General, not to be confused with Squadron General, Line General, Field General, Leader General, and so on, reserving the title Supreme General for himself.

  “If you’re the Supreme General,” Buddy said slowly, “and I’m your sup
erior, what should my title be?”

  “Superior General?” Lars guessed.

  “Ultimate,” Buddy said with a grin. “You should call me Ultimate General.”

  “I’ll have my people draw up the papers,” Lars said immediately, though he had no intention of doing so. Ever. Over my dead body. Ultimate General indeed. Though he had to admit that he might have been a little pissed at himself for not having claimed the title first.

  “So,” Buddy said after a bit. “How goes the war? And you should use my title.”

  Lars managed to not grind his fangs together only by taking in another deep breath. And regretted it instantly. Seriously, the gas that Buddy passed could be used as a weapon. If Lars had been wearing his human body, he might be doubled over right now, coughing and choking.

  “The war is going well…Ultimate General,” Lars said. “It’s all detailed in my reports.”

  Buddy waved a negligent hand. “Yeah, I know. I just wanted to hear it directly from the horse’s mouth. You have had a lot of victories. What about the defeats?”

  Lars shrugged as nonchalantly as he could with his wings folded tightly against his back. He didn’t want to accidently trigger a cascade of nasty water from the waiting stalactites above.

  “We lose individual battles now and again, that is true,” he said.

  Buddy looked at him with wide eyes, as if amazed that Lars would admit to any defeat.

  “They don’t matter in the overall scheme of things,” Lars continued. “The number of small skirmishes that we lose is unimportant. What’s important is that we’re turning the tide in terms of the kith and kin.”

  “Go on,” Buddy said, nodding as if he understood, though Lars doubted he did.

  “When I started the war,” Lars said, unable to help the pride that filled his voice, “I knew that I had to change the alliances of the kith and kin. Traditionally, they’ve always aligned themselves with us. The intervening centuries with the humans at the top have weakened our ties.”

  “With you so far,” Buddy said.

  Huh. Most of the demons that Lars had tried to explain even this much to reacted either with confusion, or with demands to just tell the kith and kin that they needed to change.

  Like that ever worked.

  “So I needed to start killing the kith and kin races. Needed to show them that I was serious. I wouldn’t negotiate any cease fires or withdrawals.” Lars smiled at how well that had been working. “Now, not only are they falling all over themselves to align themselves with their proper masters, they’ve also starting to do our work for us.”

  “How so?” Buddy asked.

  Wait, he’d actually followed that? Huh.

  Maybe Buddy really was smarter than he looked.

  “The Leafanders have now invaded the Boxilers,” Lars said with glee. “While I might have hinted about that course of action, I didn’t have to bribe them, pay them, or coerce them. They did it on their own.”

  Lars may have in fact been chortling about the attack since it had been first reported.

  “Fascinating,” Buddy said. He did look interested. “So what is the next step in your grand plan? Now that you’ve successfully picked off the easier targets?”

  Lars scowled. The kith and kin worlds that he’d conquered hadn’t all been easy. But he didn’t bother to correct Buddy.

  Not yet.

  “I will continue to attack kith and kin worlds at random,” Lars said. He’d drawn up lists of places, then issued dice to his generals. They wouldn’t know which plane they were attacking until after they’d rolled. “But I may, at this time, consider negotiations after an attack. As long as that particular world’s inhabitants would both swear fealty, as well as seal the pact with blood—the blood of another kith and kin race.”

  “I see,” Buddy said. He had a pensive look on his face. Was he actually hiding a scowl?

  Didn’t he understand just how brilliant Lars’ plans were? Eventually, the demons would be able to withdraw while the battles between the kith and kin raged on.

  And the demons could finally focus on their ultimate target: the humans.

  Divide and conquer. A strategy as old as the rocks in this room.

  “So who is leading the armies of the kith and kin?” Buddy finally asked after a moment.

  Lars didn’t growl. Not quite. Maybe just a soft grrrr. “That damned princess troll. Kizalynn.”

  “Weren’t you originally sent to earth to keep an eye on her?” Buddy said. His tone sounded innocent enough.

  Lars wasn’t fooled.

  “Yes,” Lars said. “And yes, it was her testimony and trickery that sent me to prison in the first place. But don’t worry. I have plans for her, too.”

  Buddy gave Lars a tight smile, his eyes narrowed. “You have plans for everyone, don’t you?”

  Though his tone was quiet, friendly even, Lars understood that he was suddenly in grave danger.

  He had to remind himself that Buddy actually wasn’t a fool, but a prince of Hell who had quite possibly earned the title.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Lars said, faltering.

  But Buddy just nodded, as if Lars had answered his question in the positive.

  “That’s okay, Supreme General,” Buddy said, still maintaining that quiet, menacing tone. “Your Ultimate General has plans for you as well. Thank you for indulging me with your presence this afternoon, catching me up on all your campaigns. We’ll have to do this again.”

  “It—it would be my pleasure,” Lars said, stumbling over his words.

  Buddy waved his hand at Lars, dismissing him.

  Lars gathered up his pride and marched to the door as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  And he didn’t. Not really. Buddy wouldn’t stoop to stabbing him in the back.

  At least, not yet.

  Once outside in the hallway, Lars breathed a sigh of relief.

  He saw his mistake now.

  He’d assumed that the closer he got to victory, the easier it was going to be.

  And in some ways, it would be.

  However, it would also be the most dangerous time for him. He understood that now. Someone could assassinate him right at the end, make it look as though the enemy had gotten through to him. Or set some weird demon fraction up. If the plans were all in motion, and their win was guaranteed, Buddy and the other demon princes would no longer need Lars. They could kill him off, swoop in, and take all the credit for winning the Great War themselves.

  Lars wasn’t sure what he was going to do. But now that he saw the threat, he could plan for it.

  He was good at that.

  Feeling more assured, Lars continued on his way to the portal room to head back to the human plane, meet with his generals, direct his armies.

  And generate even more complicated schemes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You know, I’d missed these,” Ty admitted before he took another big bite of his burrito. It had the perfect proportions of spicy pork, refried black beans, cheese, and pineapple salsa. He was going to have to remember this place.

  “Me too,” Christine said with a grin.

  After Christine had broken the changeling spell, before she’d started working at the fairy bridge, “Ty for lunch” had been a weekly occurrence for them. Ty would take Christine to one of the various kith and kin restaurants that he knew about, educating her about the various races of the kith and kin and the whole new world that had opened up for her. They’d tried to continue the tradition once she’d quit her day job, planning to meet once a month, but frequently they’d miss a month or three.

  Then Ty had gotten injured, the war had started, and they hadn’t seen each other much.

  Today they were eating from a Mexican food truck downtown, with an all human staff, at least as far as either of them could tell. They were killing a little time before the Underground Seattle tour started.

  They sat at the top of the Seattle Hill Climb stairs that led down to the
streets and piers below. The sun had burned off the marine layer early, and the temperatures were heating up, soon to be oppressive. Cool winds blew up the stairs from the permanently shaded area below, scented with the smell of the water.

  Tourists marched up and down the stairs, taking pictures all the while, gawking at the sights. A few businessmen and women took the stairs as well, those who knew how to find parking down below then walk up to their offices. Streams of joggers also paraded by, like colorful birds in their neon outfits and toned skin.

  Christine had explained what they were looking for, at least as well as she’d been able to. She kept stumbling over her words, as if they were difficult to say.

  Ty had seen this happen before. It came from being exposed to the oracles. Any super holy being, actually, tended to have the same effect. Angels had some control over it, particularly if they were making a proclamation. The oracles, it appeared, did not.

  Or they did, and they were just assholes about it.

  “Do you think the actual obelisk is underground?” Ty asked when Christine drew to an awkward halt.

  She shook her head. “That would be too easy. I expect there’s just another clue down there somewhere. It’s going to be some sort of quest, I suspect.” She sighed.

  Ty waited while Christine composed her thoughts. It was something he appreciated about her. Though she was a troll, and her natural instinct was to rush right in, Christine retained a thoughtfulness about her.

  “I can’t ask you to take this quest for me,” she said quietly. “But I can’t be away from my armies for too long.”

  Ty nodded. He didn’t ask how the war was going. Given Christine’s general grim demeanor, he assumed that she was having the same success that he was searching for Lars.

  Little to none.

  He shared her belief that Lars was probably “hiding in plain sight” and living in his parent’s house. But they’d never catch him there. He was too careful around that location. No, they’d have to surprise him out in the field. Ty had agents everywhere, searching.