The Troll-Human War

by Leah R. Cutter

  And not have to spend a single piece of gold.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dennis couldn’t help but be puffed up with pride.

  Not only had Christine been relying on him for recruiting, now she actually wanted him to go fight with her!

  He’d actually had a T-shirt made up for when this day came. I was born ready was proclaimed in big, bold, white letters across a black background.

  Christine just rolled her eyes when she saw it. “Here,” she said, handing him a boring, off-white vest that had rings sewn into it. “Put this on.”

  Dennis pouted. He’d been expecting to show all the worlds his readiness. At least Christine let him keep his own jeans and heavy hiking boots.

  They stood in the living room of her underground warren. While the ceilings were high enough for a troll and there were colorful Christmas-tree-like lights stretched across where the ceiling met walls, it still gave Dennis the feeling of being too closed in. In many ways, it resembled Christine’s old apartment, with books piled everywhere, a comfy chair in the corner with a light perfectly perched over the back of it for reading, as well as a large couch for napping on.

  The walls were made out of smoothed-over rock, with some pretty stones left in situ. The ground, though, was just packed dirt. He’d never been able to talk Christine into getting some rugs, despite the fact that he still thought she needed just a touch of something to make this place homey.

  She claimed it was plenty homey for her, reinforcing once again that the sister he’d grown up with technically no longer existed.

  Next, Christine handed Dennis what felt like a metal-reinforced motorcycle helmet. It was a dark blue color. If only she’d handed him everything the night before! He could have put cool racing decals along the sides of the helmet and maybe a mohawk of purple fringe.

  He lifted the helmet, feeling its weight. Damn, that was going to be a pain in the ass to wear.

  She merely nodded at him. “You can just carry it for now and put it on later.”

  With a grin, Dennis tucked the helmet under his arm. Then he looked expectantly at her. “Where’s my weapon?”

  Christine merely snorted at him. She was dressed in a similar vest to his, though her ring mail was sewn to a dark blue vest, leaving her arms bare. A gold helmet perched on top of her head, with room on the sides for her tall troll ears. Her great ax was attached to her back, a short sword hung on one side of her belt, and a bag full of sharp rocks on the other side. She had knives sticking out of the tops of her black boots as well, below her cropped pants.

  “What, I don’t get a weapon?” Dennis asked, a little hurt.

  “You’re already armed,” Christine said.

  Dennis looked at her, confused.

  “You can talk your way out of anything,” Christine said. “You don’t need the weapon. The armor is just to protect you until we can get to the point of talking.”

  “Oh,” Dennis said, only slightly mollified.

  “Look, the beings that we’re going to see don’t like trolls. They don’t much care for humans, either. And we need them to help us,” Christine said. “I’m not bringing an army to fetch what we need. I have you. That should be enough.”

  “Thanks,” Dennis said, though he wasn’t convinced Christine meant it as a compliment.

  “You’re my brother,” Christine told him. “I’ve already lost too damned many good trolls and other beings to this war. I’m not about to lose family, too.”

  “Then why not bring an army?” Dennis asked.

  Christine sighed. “I’m hoping that if it’s just the pair of us, we can sneak in, grab what we need, and sneak out again, without them being any wiser. However, since plans never work out in reality, I need to be prepared for fighting as well.”

  “But we have no idea what exactly we need, right?” Dennis asked. “I mean, beyond the Torso of Dennis.” He had to grin at that. Again.

  Him, being part of the quest for obelisk of truth. Contributing his part. As long as they didn’t expect him to actually hand over his torso. He was kind of using that already.

  “Yeah. Vern’s vase. Your torso,” Christine said. “Once we had the vase, the next part showed up on the map. So I won’t know what I’m looking for next until after we return. With the torso.” She grimaced. “Dad’s vase doesn’t look like much. It wouldn’t have been the vase that I would have chosen. So keep an open mind about what the map actually means by a torso.”

  “Got it,” Dennis said. He grinned up at her. “Let’s do this.”

  Christine sighed again, but she sketched the outline of a door with her hands. A blue light sprang up.

  His sister really had gotten a good handle on all that magic stuff.

  For a moment, Dennis had a twinge of regret that Dad had been the one who’d turned out to have magic and not him.

  Then he squared his shoulders. It was okay. He had other talents, other gifts.

  His sister, and the war, were depending on him.

  He could do this.

  He was, after all, born ready.

  Dennis regretted not bringing an oxygen mask or something as soon as they stepped out onto the rocky hillside. He couldn’t help but start coughing immediately. His eyes began watering as well.

  “Crap,” he heard Christine mutter next to him as he bent over, continuing to cough.

  A warm wind suddenly caressed his face, blowing away much of the stink of sulfur and rotten eggs. He straightened up, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

  The wind continued, blowing constantly, as if a tiny, invisible fan had been set up just a few inches in front of his face.

  He looked over at Christine, who just shrugged. “Sorry,” she said. “I knew this place stank. I came here once with Ty, just so I could create my own portal here. Didn’t know it would hit you so hard.”

  “That’s okay,” Dennis said. “Thank you for the wind.” He realized that it was her air power that was protecting him from the smell.

  Kind of handy sometimes, having a magical sister.

  He looked around. They stood on a desolate hillside. Bleached white rocks tumbled down the slope. Large boulders, as big as two cars stacked on top of one another, stood on either side of a wide trail leading back up the hill. A searing blue sky with a bright sun glared at them.

  “So where are we?” Dennis asked as Christine turned around, looking in all directions.

  “We’re on one of the sacred hills of the Longians,” Christine told him.

  “Sacred?” Dennis said. Crap. Were they about to desecrate a holy place? Probably already had, just by being here.

  While Dennis hadn’t always believed in God or the Devil, he certainly had changed his tune after meeting an angel. As well as getting into a couple of scraps with demons. All of the kith and kin had some sort of creation myth and believed in a Creator if not the human God.

  Dennis had participated in more than one prayer session, particularly fervent when whatever beings were about to engage in one of their sports. It had, but hadn’t, surprised Dennis that the kith and kin prayed more before a game than before battle.

  Battle was merely life or death. While a game was about eternal pride and bragging rights.

  “The Longians have no towns or physical structures,” Christine told him. “No workshops or houses. They either sleep on the rocks or in the air.”

  Dennis nodded. Christine had told him about the beings they were visiting. They most closely resembled a Chinese dragon, except that they had four sets of hands along their long bodies, a more pug-like face, and they tended to have iron spikes that ran down their spines to the ends of their long tails. Which appeared to be prehensile, at least as far as Christine could tell.

  It still offended the librarian who lived at the heart of his sister that there were no books about the various races, no handy guide to the kith and kin. He suspected that once the war was over, she might write one. Just for her own reference if no one else valued such
a thing.

  “The only place I could find where they might gather, or, you know, have a torso lying around, was in their sacred caves,” Christine continued. “But I wasn’t able to sneak into one earlier. I’m just hoping we can find something there. Unless you think that there’s a better place we should go? Now that we’re here? Does any direction feel more appropriate than another?”

  Dennis shrugged. He didn’t feel drawn to one place more than another.

  “Close your eyes,” Christine suggested. “See if you can feel something.”

  Dennis obeyed, closing his eyes for a moment and seeing if he felt something tugging him one direction or another.

  “Nothing,” he announced after a moment.

  “Then let’s try the caves,” Christine said. She reached behind her. Her ax leaped off her back and into her hand.

  “Pretty neat trick,” Dennis commented.

  “Huh?” Christine asked. Then she gave him a shy smile. “Thanks,” she said. “Took a long time to get the power just right, between making sure that the ax stayed where I put it, as well as came to my hand when I reached for it.”

  “Awesome,” Dennis told her.

  And it was. He wished again briefly that he’d be able to master such a thing.

  But his talents lay in other areas.

  Or so he hoped.

  The path up the hill to the sacred cave was obvious. Huge boulders rose up on either side, growing closer together as they neared the top, until they almost formed a solid wall. He could have slipped between two of them, but he doubted Christine in her full troll getup would have been able to.

  Christine’s air element kept blowing the stench of the place away from Dennis’s face. Though now, underneath the stink of rotting fruit, came the smell of something more earthy. He figured it was a scent Christine would approve of.

  The gravel under their feet gave way to more solid dirt. The opening of the cave loomed ominously in front of them. Christine could probably pass through with her ax in her hand, her arm stuck up all the way above her head, and still not touch the top.

  Darkness and cold winds blew out from the opening. Dennis couldn’t smell it, but he knew Christine could: magic filled the doorway.

  Was that why Christine and Ty hadn’t been able to find any dwelling places for the Longians? Because they actually lived on a different plane? Was it possible to set up a portal in midair? Christine had once explained that portals needed to be connected to the earth. Was that because she was a troll and was connected to the earth herself? Dennis would have to remember to ask her at some point.

  Cautiously, Christine stepped close enough to the doorway to just stick her nose through.

  She shook her head, sneezing as she backed away.

  “It isn’t a portal,” she said, then she sneezed again. “Don’t know what exactly it is.”

  “Any chance it opens up into midair when we step through?” Dennis asked. That was his main concern. These were an air-born race. Would there actually be ground in their sacred space?

  Christine shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll catch you if we start to fall,” she promised him. Then she gave him a sly smile. “Probably.”

  Dennis snorted. This was the sister he remembered from recent years. The smartass, not the one who was so serious all the time.

  She reached out and grabbed his hand. “Here goes nothing,” she muttered.

  “Naw, here goes us,” Dennis said, giving her so much larger hand a squeeze.

  She gave him another one of those smiles that had become so rare before they both stepped forward.

  To Dennis, it felt more like stepping through a soap bubble than anything else. His ears popped, and he had to move his jaw around and swallow a couple more times to make them pop again.

  A huge cave stood before him. It was made out of that same bleached white rock as the boulders outside. Glowing lights were set into the walls, so it was almost as bright as day. Plus, about four stories up, a roughly circular opening had been carved, showing the sky.

  Crevices had been notched out of the walls, each about five feet across at the opening. They reminded Dennis of the ancient Catholic church he’d visited when he’d been in France and the stations of the cross that lined the main sanctuary. The hushed air certainly loaned the feeling of solemnity to the place.

  He counted sixteen openings around the vaguely circular space. It made sense that the Longians would do counts of four, as they had four fingers as well as eight hands, though the bottom two acted more like feet.

  The ground in here wasn’t either dirt or gravel, but what looked like white clay, pounded down and smoothed instead of baked in a kiln or made into tiles.

  No creatures rushed at them, no one challenged them. The space was empty.

  Dennis found himself holding his breath. He released it slowly.

  He understood at a gut level why this was considered a sacred space. It was wrapped in the feeling of holiness, like a shroud. Even though he doubted the Longians celebrated a god that he’d recognize, it was still obvious.

  Gingerly, Dennis took a step forward. He carefully placed his feet when he realized that the floor had been sprinkled with the white substance and would show every one of his footsteps.

  Christine followed, though she didn’t seem as concerned about leaving footprints. Maybe it was because it was already too late, they’d already broken the sanctity of the place.

  Dennis made his way to the first opening.

  What the hell was that? It looked like a modern sculpture, carved out of white marble. About four feet tall and two feet wide, sitting atop a stone base. The sculpture had been polished so the marble was completely smooth and reflected the light in the room.

  The bottom of the sculpture was rounded and solid. What looked like three trunks rose up from that, intertwined, with a couple of random holes punched through. It ended abruptly, cut off by something harsh, the top of it roughly hewn and unpolished.

  Dennis turned to look at Christine. She looked as confused as he did.

  Good to know he wasn’t the only one who just didn’t get modern art.

  He walked over to the next piece. It didn’t make any more sense to him. It looked like a triangle, carved out of that same white marble, though this slab had black streaks running through it. The center of the triangle had been hollowed out and four perfectly round balls dangled down.

  “No idea,” Dennis murmured as he moved on.

  Each piece was like that, usually a geometric shape or weird carving. None of it made any sense to him. Most of the pieces had been carved out of the same white marble, though a couple appeared to come from a different region, as in addition to the black streaks were also veins of gold.

  “So?” Christine asked after Dennis had walked around the room twice. “What do you think?”

  “Haven’t a clue,” Dennis said. None of the pieces spoke to him or drew him in any way. Instead, they all struck him as alien. Nothing that would be a torso or body to him.

  “Look again,” Christine growled, sounding impatient.

  With a nod, Dennis made his way back to the first piece, no longer caring so much about tracking footprints. They’d already marred the floor. There was no hiding that they’d been here.

  It kinda sorta looked like a torso to him. But a weird one. With limbs growing out of the center of it. But it didn’t attract him. When he closed his eyes, nothing in the room drew his attention.

  “We’re in the wrong place,” he finally admitted, turning to face Christine.

  She was no longer looking at him.

  Instead, her face was turned up toward the opening to the sky. “Incoming,” she said. “Helmet!” she barked at him as she grabbed her ax.

  Dennis gulped and put the helmet on, then backed away, stepping further into the small opening holding the carving of the torso-like-thingy.

  Hopefully after Christine got their attention with her ax, the Longians would be willing to talk.

  O
therwise, it was going to be one hell of a failed trip.

  “We just want to talk!” Christine growled again as she smacked the snout of another Longian who came too near.

  Dennis continued to hang back in the alcove of the first statue.

  He didn’t want to admit it, but his sister kinda frightened him when she went full on warrior princess troll mode.

  Mind you, fighting a dozen flying centipedes had pissed her off.

  Dennis had stayed out of the way as she’d requested, though he’d tried offering advice a couple of times, or at least told her when one of the Longians had tried to sneak up on her.

  As awesomely muscled as his sister was, she was growing tired. He could tell.

  And those damned long claws of the Longians weren’t getting any duller.

  Someone had to stop this madness.

  The Longians weren’t paying any attention to him. They kept their focus on the threat in the room, namely Christine.

  Dennis contemplated knocking one of the statues over. That might get the Longians to stop, if he threatened to destroy all their hard work in their sacred space.

  That just didn’t seem right to Dennis, though. While showing strength was important to all the races of the kith and kin that he’d met, they also respected courage and bravery.

  So that was what Dennis had to show them.

  He gulped.

  Or else face a messy death. He wasn’t sure which at this point.

  Slowly, Dennis removed his helmet. God, that thing really did weigh a ton. Sure, it would have protected him. But he had Christine to do that.

  Next, he stripped off his armor, the ring mail. He dropped it beside the helmet.

  He took another deep breath, still thankful for the air element of Christine’s who allowed him to breathe. Then he stepped out from the alcove onto the main floor.