Don't Feed the Trolls

by Jacob Peppers

  Dannen sighed and set about the task of packing their meager belongings.

  ***

  Arabelle may have fled during the night like a thief, but Dannen was relieved—or, considering the state of things outside the capital city, perhaps relief wasn’t the right word—to see that her directions had been accurate.

  They stood at the edge of the forest. In the distance, he could see the great walled city of Urkenvald. Dannen had never been to the northern capital before, and he couldn’t help but be impressed by the size of it, specifically the size of the great stone walls that rose up in a protective circle surrounding it.

  More impressive still, though, was the great undead army gathered outside those walls. From this distance and the height the hill on which they stood afforded them, it looked as if thousands upon thousands of ants were gathered before the walls. Dannen had seen armies at siege before, but this one was far different. There were no great ballistas or catapults hurling boulders at the walls. Neither did he see any siege ladders, and he supposed that one of the downsides of being undead was that consisting of only bones made climbing ladders a bitch.

  What he did see, though, was far from heartening. The undead swarmed against the great walls—and the doors in particular—like some evil tide. An evil tide that, unlike a mortal army, required no food or water, no rest. He wondered how long the army had been at it, imagined what it would be like to be trapped within those walls, the undead battering at the gate day and night without surcease.

  “Gods be good,” Fedder breathed beside him, and Dannen understood the dismay and anger he heard in the mage’s voice, for he felt them too.

  Another strange thing struck him as he stood there, and that was just how quiet it all was. The enemy army played no war drums, nor did they shout battle cries as a mortal army would have as they charged against the walls. In fact, save for the metallic ring of steel which Dannen could hear even from where he stood and the intermittent, weary shouts of the defenders on the walls who, from time to time, fired arrows down into the milling undead with no noticeable effect, the whole thing carried on like some silent play. And if it was a play, it was the most macabre one he had ever seen, and one to which the end was not in doubt.

  So far, the walls held, but eventually they would not. Sooner or later, the incessant beating the walls—or more likely, the gate—were taking would bring it down. In the end, it was not a question of if the city would be vanquished or not. Instead, it was only a question of whether it would fall to the undead breaking their way inside, or if the city would break to starvation. Either way, the fate of the city—and all of those sheltering inside it—was a grim certainty.

  Unless, of course, Dannen and the others were able to do something to save it, though what that something was, he had no idea.

  “So,” Fedder said, glancing at him, “what’s the plan, Butcher?”

  Dannen opened his mouth to tell the man he didn’t know—or maybe to curse, it was a toss up—but he never got the chance. No sooner had he opened his mouth than the ground beneath his feet began to shake, and he became aware of a distant rumbling sound like the noise approaching thunder might make. Only, a quick glance at the sky showed that it was clear and sunny with no sign of clouds or storms.

  He frowned, he and the others turning back to look at the forest behind them where the sound was coming from. At first, he didn’t know what to think, wondered, perhaps, if it was a stampede or perhaps another section of the necromancer’s undead army. Sure, there might have been thousands of troops already at the city walls, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be more on the way. If there was one thing the world had in excess, after all, it was dead people, all of whom might become soldiers in a necromancer’s army.

  Dannen drew the sword at his side, suddenly confident that at any moment, their attempted heroics would be brought to a swift end as they found themselves trapped between a second wave of the undead and the one attacking the city gate. It had been a long time since he’d wielded a blade in battle, and he decided it had been a foolish thing not to take a little time to knock the rust off. Still, he took a slow, deep breath in an effort to calm himself—at least, that was, as much as anyone who was about to be hacked to death by skeletons could—and turned, glancing at the others. “Get yourselves ready—looks like the fight’s starting early.”

  They responded immediately, Mariana whipping her weapons into her hands with shocking speed while Fedder walked to a nearby tree, breaking off a limb most men would have found it impossible to lift and brandishing it as if it weighed nothing. Meanwhile, Tesler and his squirrel held no weapon. The animal, perched on the young man’s shoulder, raised its little paws in what could only be fists, and after a moment, Tesler did the same, an uncertain look on his face. Dannen didn’t think punching a skeleton, at least in the young man’s case, would do much good, and from what he’d seen back at the village inn he thought the little creature would prove far more effective.

  Not that he thought it would matter, in the end, but the sound was getting closer, the ground beneath his feet practically dancing, so that he was forced to concentrate on keeping his feet. Dannen gave his new sword a couple of practice strokes then waited for what would come. But when the approaching force finally rounded the bend in the forest path it was not an army of undead skeletons after all. Instead, it was something far more terrifying.

  Trolls. A lot of them. A troll charging at you, in Dannen’s experience, was one of the most horrifying things in the world, a sight to haunt a man’s nightmares in the unlikely event that he lived long enough to have them. But when there wasn’t just one troll but a dozen, with more coming around the bend all the time, the effect was far worse, and it was all Dannen could do to keep his sweaty grip on the leather handle of his sword.

  Trolls might not have been the most agile of creatures, but with their long legs they covered a lot of ground quickly, kicking up a great dust cloud as they came on, and Dannen tensed in preparation of the wave of giants crashing into him and the others.

  When they were only a couple of dozen feet away, Dannen largely lost sight of them as the cloud of dust that had followed in the trolls’ wake rolled over them, and he narrowed his eyes, struggling to catch sight of the creatures. He waited and waited, but nothing came at him, and when the dust cloud drifted away, he saw that the trolls—what appeared to be a couple dozen in all—were standing a short distance away, not moving.

  “Yaaaaaah!” a voice shouted, and he turned to see Tesler charge forward, his eyes closed, his face turned to the side as if in terror before he planted a knotted fist in one of the troll’s stomachs. The troll in question—and everyone else—only stood, looking at the man who slowly opened his eyes that had been squeezed shut in his fear, his gaze traveling up the monstrous form before him.

  “Um…” Tesler cleared his throat, glancing at Dannen and the others uncertainly before turning back to the hulking form before him. “Hi.”

  The troll bared its large, crooked teeth in what might have been a grin or, more likely, an expression of hunger. Before Dannen could say or do anything to try to help the young man, though, another troll stepped through the ones at the front and this one Dannen recognized.

  “Bumblebelly?” he asked in surprise.

  The troll glanced at him, its own mouth spreading into a grin, a far different expression than it had shown when last he’d seen it and had been forced to flee from it down a perilous mountainside. “Dannen. Hello again.”

  Dannen glanced at Fedder who gave him a shrug, a look of what might have been disappointment on the big fool’s face that they weren’t going to get to face down a stampeding group of trolls after all, then he turned back to the troll. “Um…hi,” he said, echoing Tesler. “What uh…what are you doing here?” Perandius had told him that an army of trolls were coming to help, of course, but he hadn’t really believed it—hadn’t allowed himself to.

  The troll gave a harsh laugh, patting its massive belly. �
�We are the TWB.”

  “The TWB?” Mariana asked.

  “Troll Without Bridges,” the massive troll agreed. “Best troll army world ever seen.” He said, his chest swelling with pride, “and I it’s leader.”

  Dannen figured it was likely the first troll army the world had ever seen, for if such a thing were a common occurrence, likely there wouldn’t be any world—certainly no people—still around to see it. He was trying to figure out what to say next—at least what would be least likely to make one of the trolls decide to smash him with the great clubs they carried—when another troll stepped forward, scowling at Bumblebelly. “Bumblebelly,” the newcomer said, “is co-leader of troll army.”

  Bumblebelly returned the frown before turning back to Dannen and rolling his jaundiced eyes in a surprisingly human-like gesture. “This Fiddleguts. Bumblebelly cousin. Bumblebelly told you about him.”

  Dannen winced. “Right. Uh…Fiddleguts, I’m uh…sorry, you know, about your bridge and all.”

  The troll nodded. “Fiddleguts understand. Upset at first, wanted to kill you, smash your bones and eat your juices, drink your blood like…like juice. But then—”

  “That against mission of TWB,” Bumblebelly said, nodding and flashing his horrific smile again.

  “Well,” Dannen said, blinking, “thank the gods for that. And…I appreciate it. But…if you don’t mind my asking, what is the mission of the TWB?”

  Bumblebelly and Fiddleguts shared a look, then both of them burst into laughter that was, in its way, as terrifying as any battle roar might have been, and Dannen winced as the stench of their foul breath reached him. “That simple,” Bumblebelly said finally. “TWB made to make a men.”

  Dannen frowned. “A men? I’m not sure—”

  “Amends?” Mariana asked. “Do you mean make ‘amends’?”

  “Right,” Bumblebelly said, looking at her as if she were terribly dense. “That what I said. A men. We learn about it from new friend.”

  Dannen had a thought as to who that friend might be, but he chose to leave it for now. “And…how, exactly, do you make a men…I mean, amends?”

  “Well,” Bumblebelly said, his squat, ugly features screwing up in thought, “first, we don’t smash people.”

  “Right.” Fiddleguts said. “Less they try smash us first.”

  “Or make us mad,” a third offered.

  “Right,” Bumblebelly said, nodding. “Or get in our way.”

  “Sure,” Dannen said slowly. “Well, as a jumping off point…it sounds like a good one.”

  “And we have to polarguise,” Bumblebelly went on.

  “Um…polarguise?” Dannen asked.

  “Yes,” the troll agreed, “say polarguise. To those we attack.”

  “Apologize!” Tesler said, and Dannen turned to see the man grinning widely as if he had just solved a brainteaser. “You mean apologize!”

  Bumblebelly stared at him for a moment. “Yes. That what I said—polarguise.”

  “I see,” Dannen said, “and…you decided to start with us, I guess?”

  Another roaring, odorous laugh from the two co-leader trolls. “You not first. You last. Others were easy, though…” He paused, frowning. “Not sure they heard us. Being dead and all.”

  “Rude,” Fiddleguts said. “They not accept apology. Make me mad. So we smash.”

  Bumblebelly nodded. “But they dead before we smash so it okay,” he said.

  Dannen cleared his throat. “Well, I just want to say, on behalf of all of us, that we accept your apology.”

  “Good,” Bumblebelly said, grinning. “Good. Now troll army help you.”

  Dannen glanced behind the two trolls, both with their chests puffed out, smiling proudly, at the two dozen or so trolls gathered behind them. “Bumblebelly…” he began, but Fedder beat him to it.

  “Where’s the rest of it?”

  “Rest of what?” Bumblebelly said, frowning.

  Dannen winced. “What he means is, normally speaking, two dozen aren’t considered an army.”

  Bumblebelly gave a wince of his own, shifting from foot to foot as if embarrassed, the movement nearly knocking Dannen from his feet. “There were more of us but…”

  “They got distracted,” Fiddleguts finished. “Smashing.”

  “Smashing…what?” Dannen asked.

  The trolls shrugged. “Things,” Bumblebelly offered, as if smashing were an activity that needed no explanation like sleeping or eating. Which for trolls, Dannen supposed it was.

  Dannen glanced at his companions, then back at the trolls. “I wonder, Bumblebelly, Fiddleguts, would the two of you mind if my companions and I spoke for a moment?”

  “No problem,” Bumblebelly said. “We just be over here.”

  “Not smashing,” Fiddleguts said.

  “Right,” Bumblebelly said. “Unless they deserve it.”

  Dannen didn’t know who “they” were, doubted if the trolls knew themselves, but he motioned to the others, and they walked a short distance away. “Well?” he asked once they were safely out of earshot. “What do we think?”

  “I think we’re screwed,” Mariana said.

  “I gotta be with the girl on this one, Butcher,” Fedder said. “They’re some big ugly bastards, I’ll give ‘em that, but two dozen trolls ain’t gonna make much difference, not against that,” he finished, cocking a thumb at the great horde of undead beating against the city walls.

  Dannen followed the gesture, as did the others, and found that he couldn’t really disagree. Trolls were formidable creatures, their visages alone enough to strike fear into the hearts of their opponents. The problem, of course, was that this time, their opponents didn’t have hearts…and numbered in the thousands.

  “Ants.”

  They all turned to look at Tesler. “What’s that?” Dannen asked.

  “Ants,” the man repeated, meeting Dannen’s gaze. “When a queen ant dies, it is said that the colony, too, dies. In time, at least.”

  Fedder grunted. “Well, you’d know, lad, though what bearing that has on our current situation—”

  Realization suddenly struck Dannen, and he grunted. He turned to look at Tesler, felt a grin rise on his face. “All the bearing in the world, Fedder. Tesler, you’re a genius.”

  “Um…thanks?”

  “I don’t get it,” Mariana said. “Who gives a shit about ants? We’ve got a lot other—considerably larger and more deadly—things to worry about just now.”

  “Don’t you see?” Dannen said, eyeing the woman and the mage who, based on their confused expressions, obviously did not. “They,” he went on, waving a sweeping hand at the undead crowding the field below, “are the ants.”

  “Look more like murderous skeletons to me,” Mariana offered.

  “And the necromancer,” Dannen persisted, “wherever he is, is the queen.”

  Fedder snorted a laugh at that, one that cut off abruptly when Dannen shot him a scowl. “Kill the queen,” he went on, turning to meet Tesler’s eyes, the man nodding as he did, “and you kill the ants. At least…probably.”

  Mariana blinked. “Probably?”

  Dannen hissed. “Look, I’ve led a pretty shitty life, all around, but luckily it hasn’t been shitty enough for me to end up in this kind of situation more than once where I might test it, alright? Hopefully, killing the necromancer will destroy whatever magical link he has with his creations.” He turned to Fedder, figuring the mage would know better than any of them. “Right?”

  The big man grunted. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe,” Mariana repeated. “And if not, we’ll all die.”

  Dannen turned to her. “You want to turn around, go back? Flee with your tail between your legs and leave the citizens of Urkenvald to those…those things?”

  She glanced back at the city, at the horde gathered at the base of its walls, and a hard expression came over her face. “Fine,” she said. “But I get the honor of sticking a dagger in that bastard’s heart.”

  D
annen considered that then slowly shook his head. “No. I think we’re going to need your particular skills for something else.”

  She frowned. “When someone puts butter on bread, they usually stick it in fire to make their toast. What kind of fire are you meaning to stick me into, Dannen?”

  Dannen winced. “Look, the fact is, we don’t have enough men—or, well, trolls—to take on the army. If we try, chances are we’re going to end up surrounded and cut down before we ever make it to the necromancer.”

  “We don’t even know where the necromancer will be,” Mariana said.

  “He’ll be somewhere near the center,” Fedder said, shifting uncomfortably when they all turned to look at him. “He’ll want to be able to keep an eye on his spell.” He shifted again, refusing to meet their eyes. “Makes it easier.”

  “Perfect,” Mariana said. “So we just have to fight our way through an army, find this necromancer, kill him, and then hope that all his minions decide to fall over.”

  “Halfway.”

  She turned to frown at Tesler who’d spoken. “What?”

  The man shifted. “Well. I mean, if the necromancer is at the center of the army, we’ll only have to fight our way halfway through it to reach him.”

  “Anyway,” Dannen said, deciding it was best to change the subject before the woman decided to get a few practice swings in with those weapons of hers, “the point is that we’re not going to be able to do this on our own. We need help.”

  Fedder grunted. “Got to be honest with you, Butcher, I don’t know any other trolls we might call on. Matter of fact, as a matter of policy, I try to make it a point to—”

  “You don’t mean trolls,” Mariana said.

  “No,” Dannen said. “I don’t.”

  The woman turned, glancing at the city walls thoughtfully.

  “Do you think you can do it?”

  “Climb a wall?” she asked. “Sure, no problem. The trick will be making it to the wall without getting my head cut off.”

  “Leave that part to us,” Dannen said, meeting Fedder’s eyes.

  “I…I don’t understand,” Tesler said.