The Troll-Human War

by Leah R. Cutter

  Vern cricked his neck from one side to the other, trying to work out the kinks. He rolled his head, then took a deep breath and sighed.

  Though it was after eight, he just couldn’t go home yet. He was too wound up still. If he went home now, all he’d end up doing would be to angrily pace the living room floor. And Lizzie had had enough of his rants for now, quite frankly.

  While Vern liked to think of himself as a youngster at heart, he really didn’t want to go to a bar, particularly not the type of bar that would be for old farts like him.

  Where else could he go? He’d discovered that he really enjoyed being outdoors more as his magic had come to the forefront. Something invigorating about striving to produce your own strong blowing wind, facing off against a storm. Though there hadn’t been any storms that summer. He still could well imagine it.

  There had been those reports about demons coming across the fairy bridge that Christine maintained. She’d assured him that it wasn’t possible. He believed her.

  Still, it wouldn’t hurt for him to go and check it out on his own.

  Vern took a deep breath then reminded himself that he needed to pay attention. Even Lizzie had complained about his driving recently. There was just so much more to see!

  Still, Vern made himself check behind his vehicle twice before he backed out of his parking spot, then look both ways twice before he pulled out into the street.

  It was a short drive down Madison Street to the Arboretum. Vern reminded himself a couple of times to pay attention to the traffic, not marvel at the new buildings going up, the loud thumping music of the car beside his, the smell of the night, sweet and wild.

  Vern pulled into the parking lot beside the Japanese garden. He sagged with relief that he’d gotten there unscathed.

  Concentrating so hard on his driving made him tired. Maybe he was going to have to give up his car…

  Just not yet.

  Vern got out. The night air instantly revived him. He looked in all directions. He’d never had good night vision before, but his magic had improved his eyesight tremendously.

  Nothing dangerous lurked close to him. Something was camped out behind him, in the ravine at the edge of the park. He didn’t know what, but it was a passive evil, not active. It probably wouldn’t come up and bother his car.

  Still, Vern pressed his hand against the side window. A brief flare of blue told him that the car was now sheltered in a protection spell. It wouldn’t last too long, it wasn’t as if he was enchanting the object. That would take a lot of time, ingredients, as well as skill. It wasn’t necessary to go to that extreme. Just a short protection spell would do.

  Humming, Vern walked across the parking lot, then across the street and into the park. The bridge was located in the southern part of the Arboretum, spanning across a dried riverbed. Only in the spring after really heavy rains did the river have any water in it.

  The air smelled so good, fresh with the winds and the night. Vern felt his nervous energy bleeding away, carried from him by the breezes surrounding him.

  He was going to have to remember this, how good it felt to walk at night. Maybe this was what he needed to start doing—walking in the evenings around the lake.

  Or maybe there was a neighborhood watch he could join, and he’d walk the blocks around his house, making sure his neighborhood was safe and protected.

  Vern shivered when the air changed and a foul smell washed over him.

  Without thinking about it, Vern automatically put up a distraction spell. It wouldn’t necessarily turn him invisible. However, unless someone was actually looking for him, their eyes would slide across him and not register that he was there. He’d found that it was the best defense when faced with a demon or three.

  And there were suddenly more than three demons in front of him.

  Luckily, they weren’t paying any attention to Vern. They’d materialized on the far side of the bridge, the human side. He hadn’t seen them cross, however.

  What was going on?

  Vern took a few more steps toward the bridge, peering carefully at it.

  A blur of white passed over the top of it.

  What the hell?

  Vern stayed where he was and focused, trying to see exactly what was happening.

  There.

  A bent over white figure was racing across the bridge.

  On its back, it bore a demon.

  Only when the creature reached the far end of the bridge did Vern realize what was happening.

  The white figure was a cambion, half human, half demon. It carried a full demon on its back.

  That was how the demons were getting across the bridge. They were probably using the same technique to enter the other worlds as well.

  Why were the cambions able to cross the bridge? Was it because they were half human? That was the only thing that Vern could figure out. The bridge itself was barred against oath breakers. Maybe these were particularly harmless cambions?

  Vern’s palm itched. He really wanted to pull out his wand and challenge these demons, stop them from coming any further into the human plane.

  However, he was by himself. A single human, facing a group of two dozen demons.

  He’d never survive. He just wasn’t strong enough on his own.

  Disappointed, Vern slipped away, unnoticed.

  Could he use the parade of demons entering the human plane as evidence that they needed to help the kith and kin?

  No, the opposition would take it as proof of the failure of the kith and kin, how they needed to take matters in their own hands, to not trust the others.

  Humans first.

  Vern shuddered.

  The stench of demons now surrounded Vern’s car. He could tell that they’d tested the spell. It had blackened in areas, near the driver’s door, across the front window.

  No, that wasn’t all they’d done.

  They’d actually shit on his car.

  Because they couldn’t damage it magically, they’d done the next best thing. At least according to them.

  Damn them. Damn them all!

  Vern’s anger bubbled up. He was so tired of this. So tired of watching the war bleed the life out of his daughter. Tired of the arguments between his own people when they should have been united, fighting the true enemy and not each other. Tired of feeling useless, as though there wasn’t anything he could do.

  It took a lot to get Vern angry. He prided himself on always being a pacific kind of guy, easy going.

  This was too much.

  Vern’s wand found its way to his hand without him willing it.

  He blasted the car with bright blue flames, burning away the last of the demon stench.

  Now he saw the ropes that the demons had tried to tie to the car. Thin lines of influence and power.

  What were those? Were the demons so intent on influencing him that they’d attacked his vehicle? Since they couldn’t get through to him or his family?

  Vern burned through those as well, unsure when they’d been first attached.

  He thought he heard a yelp in the distance as he followed the lines back, burning brightly as they went, streams of hot fire flashing though the black night.

  Damn them all.

  When he was finished, the car was as clean as if it had just come from the wash.

  However, Vern’s anger still burned, white hot now.

  He’d had enough. Enough of the politics and being friendly and trying to persuade others to his side.

  Time to go and kick some demon ass.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Where did these come from?” the royal treasurer, Phikathera, asked suspiciously.

  “Does it matter?” King Garethen growled. “It’s gold. Spend it.”

  Phikathera shook her head. It was late in the evening, when proper trolls were either out drinking or possibly already passed out. Phikathera wore a more casual outfit, merely a tight fitting vest made out of a rich brown and gold material, showing off her clear oli
ve skin and her bright white tusks.

  They were meeting in the king’s private study. He’d brought in two of the chests of gold coins that Manny the demon had given him. Though the king had set winds to stir the gold, they still might have had the slightest stench of demon.

  Maybe he should have come up with a story about stealing the chests from the demons.

  Too late now.

  The chests were made of wood and reinforced with iron bands, about two feet long, one foot wide and one foot deep. Gold coins filled each chest to the brim. The top locked with a magical device that was set to the king’s own thumbprint—a technology that he would swear the humans had copied.

  They were extremely heavy. However, not too heavy for a troll to lift. Particularly when aided with magic.

  Phikathera drew up a handful of the coins and inspected them. “They’re real,” she commented after a moment.

  “What, did you think I would try to pay my own troops with false gold?” King Garethen roared. How dare she doubt him?

  Phikathera speared him with a look. Her dark brown eyes sparked with a deep fire. “This gold came from the demons,” she said bluntly. “How did you acquire it?”

  “I stole it,” the king lied. He could tell that the treasurer didn’t believe him. “What does it matter?” he asked again. “I’m giving it to you to help fund the war effort.”

  It had cost the king greatly to hand over the chests, though he still had over a dozen more stashed in his private vault. However, the war wasn’t going their way. The kith and kin weren’t desperate. Not yet. But they were only a few lost battles away from that. The latest meeting that King Garethen had had with Ozlandia the head of the guard had warned of just how badly things were going.

  “I will use this gold,” Phikathera said, turning slowly to face the king. “Despite its questionable…heritage.”

  At least she didn’t say source, as it had come from him, though Garethen could tell she’d wanted to.

  “See that it’s well spent,” King Garethen commanded.

  Phikathera snorted. “First, I will see that it’s well cleaned. Then I will worry about spending it wisely.” She cast a shrewd eye at him. “Are there more where these came from?”

  “Why?” the king asked, unwilling to give this woman even an inch.

  “I could have used them earlier,” she said simply. “Now, I’m just hoping that it isn’t too late.”

  After Phikathera left, King Garethen sat in his heavy chair behind his good stone desk, brooding. Should he have turned over the gold chests to the treasurer when he’d first received them? But it was his gold! He shouldn’t have to fund the entire war effort on his own. There was plenty of gold in the treasury for that.

  He should have started taxing the merchants sooner, making them pay for the war effort.

  How could Garethen get the coins back? He already felt the loss of them, the place of honor where the chests had sat a bothersome hole, like a missing a tooth that his thoughts kept circling around.

  It was too late to change his mind and take the chests back.

  But maybe he could raise taxes again…

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Nik was just about to shut down the portal, to mark his shop as “Closed” for the night, when Christine came walking in.

  “Ah,” Nik said. “I was expecting you.”

  Normally, seeing Christine always made Nik happy.

  Tonight, he couldn’t help but feel sad.

  He flipped the portal sign to “Closed” anyway—he didn’t want anyone coming in during the middle of this confrontation.

  Nik had been wearing his most comfortable clothes the last few days, mainly plaid flannel shirts, carefully tailored jeans, and his expensive, handmade leather shoes. Today, he wore his dark blue and black flannel that had been washed the perfect number of times, making it soft and warm. Despite the fact that Nik rarely felt cold or heat.

  Christine wore her armor, all set for battle in her chainmail, with her ax on her back. She didn’t have her helmet on, but Nik knew that she could grab it quickly if she needed it.

  She also appeared in her full troll guise, nearly eight feet tall, with sharp tusks and muscled arms. The scars on her arms stood out that evening, blazing white against her greenish skin.

  She’d withstood hellfire as a baby.

  What hope did Nik have that she wouldn’t bring all of her considerable powers to bear on him in order to get the thing she needed most of all right now?

  Christine stepped forward. The lights came up brightly, much brighter than what Christine generally liked for shopping.

  It took Nik a moment to realize that this amount of light was what Christine preferred during a battle.

  “How long have you known that your mirror was the final piece of the obelisk of truth?” Christine asked as she continued to walk down the aisle of goods, such wonderful items that Nik had always treasured.

  Nik shrugged. “I didn’t know for certain, not at first. And I wasn’t about to say anything until I was absolutely sure. You know that.”

  Christine nodded. “I do. I’ve never understood why, though.”

  Nik bobbed his head from one side to the other, thinking. Should he tell her his story? That because he’d been so influenced by demons when he’d been human, he vowed to never speak on any topic until he’d thoroughly researched it to make sure that what he was saying was true, and not a lie someone else had magically put into his head?

  “Bad things happened a long time ago because I spoke out of turn,” Nik finally said. “I learned my lesson.”

  No one alive needed to know the depths of his betrayal of his own race, the guilt he’d never gotten over, even though intellectually he knew that it hadn’t been his fault.

  “So why didn’t you come to me when you did know?” Christine asked quietly.

  Nik gave a bitter laugh. Funny, he’d never thought of himself capable of such nuanced expression before.

  “I’d been warned off,” Nik said.

  “By who?” Christine growled.

  He could tell that she was ready to go and do battle for him. All he had to do was to point her in a direction. But he could never tell her the truth.

  Not her. Not anyone.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Nik said. He’d also debated telling her the truth of her actions, his actions. He’d finally decided that it wouldn’t be fair if he didn’t give her the choice.

  He took a deep breath, though he didn’t really breathe anymore. Not like that.

  “Giving you the mirror, even if I make you pay dearly for it, would break my neutrality,” he said. “I would be seen to be favoring one side of the Great War over another.”

  “That’s stupid,” Christine said. “I’ve been set on a quest by the oracles. Why should that put your neutrality into question?”

  “Because I know the consequences of my actions,” Nik said. “If I give you the mirror, there’s a good chance you’ll win the war. I can’t guarantee it. However, if I don’t give you the mirror, you’ll lose. You have no chance.”

  “Okay,” Christine said slowly. “That sucks. What happens to you if lose your neutrality?”

  Nik gave her a sad smile. “I wasn’t born in this body,” he said. He held out his hands, manipulating the fine wooden joints of his fingers. “I made it. And then I had my consciousness transferred from my old body to this new one.”

  “Why?” Christine asked. She took a step forward, obviously fascinated.

  Nik didn’t want to tell her his story. But if anyone should know, it should be Christine. “I was born human,” he said, raising his chin defiantly. “And I was corrupted by demons without realizing it.”

  It was his greatest regret, that he’d been so stupid, so arrogant, that he’d believed himself above all taint.

  “This body can’t be influenced,” Nik continued. “But I couldn’t make the transfer on my own. I had to call in a favor. The being who performed the magic made my neutralit
y part of my agreement. If I remained neutral and sold magic items to all beings who desired them, I would be sustained. I could stay in this body forever. Once I break my neutrality, our deal is over.”

  “Wait a minute,” Christine said. “You’re going to die if you give me the mirror?” She looked absolutely horrified.

  “I would like to tell you that I don’t know for certain, to ease this blow. But I cannot,” Nik said. “I won’t lie to you. Yes, I believe that if I give you the mirror, I will cease to exist.”

  “I won’t take it,” Christine said hotly. “I won’t be responsible for your death.”

  Nik shook his head. “Think about it. If you refuse the mirror, you will lose. The demons will win the Great War. Everything you’ve done up until now, everything you’ve fought for, all the lives already lost, will be for naught.”

  Christine still looked horrified.

  “Your family will die. All your friends. The earth as you know it will perish,” Nik said, pressing his point home. “It is a single sacrifice for the greatest good. You know that it’s the right thing to do.”

  “It isn’t fair,” Christine whispered. Tears had started running down her cheeks. “I don’t want to do this.”

  “I know,” Nik said. At least he couldn’t join her crying. “But you have to. War forces terrible choices upon us.”

  “You’re sure, you’re absolutely sure, that the demons will win the Great War if I don’t take the mirror?” Christine asked as she wiped the tears away from her face with the backs of her hands.

  “Yes,” Nik said. He felt the truth of what he said down deep inside himself. Though he didn’t have bones, the words still resonated that way. Maybe it was through the grain of his wooden body.

  “Oh, gods, Nik,” Christine breathed out. “You know I would rather do anything at all, anything else, than to cause you harm.”

  Nik nodded, then gave her a brave smile. “Maybe they’ll let me set up shop someplace else. It’s all I’ve ever loved, running this shop.”

  Christine gave him a watery giggle. “Nik’s Heavenly Emporium?” she guessed.

  “Maybe,” Nik said, smiling at the thought. Then he sobered. “It was my privilege and my honor to work with you.”