The Troll-Demon War Read online

  Dennis would bet that beyond the bar was a tiny kitchen where a wizened old man performed magic. Christine might take him to some weird places, but the food was always excellent.

  Slowly, Dennis rose from his seat. He telegraphed every move, trying to show that he was friendly and not threatening. He made his way over to the group of rugby players. When he had the attention of one of them, asked, “You guys mind if I join you? My sister’s late.”

  The talk at the table died down slowly. Dennis gulped when he found that they were all staring directly at him.

  He knew that stare. He’d been on the receiving end of it before. It came from the kith and kin who would be as happy eating a human as talking to one.

  “I’ll buy the next round!” Dennis said cheerily as he sat down in the space reluctantly created for him. “Oh, and my sister is the princess troll.” He’d found that saying her name usually got him blank stares, but they all knew what she was. Most all of them also knew that she’d been raised a changeling.

  That he acknowledged her as his sister went a long way toward easing any hostilities.

  “Well, why didn’t you say so at first!” said the guy on his right. “I’m Albrecto. Glad to meet you, human brother.”

  “Cheers!” they all said, raising their newly filled glasses.

  Huh. Dennis didn’t notice the waitress coming around and filling all the mugs. Or reaching over his shoulder to place the mug that was suddenly in front of him.

  “Cheers!” Dennis said in return.

  The beer was absolutely delicious. Cool, refreshing, with just the right amount of tang at the end.

  Christine did take him to the best places.

  Dennis could tell that Christine was completely baffled by the fact that he was sitting with the other patrons when she arrived. Normally, he would have continued his snit and sat by himself the whole time, getting more angry by the minute.

  That was the old Dennis, he’d decided. Not the new one.

  “Hey, sis!” Dennis said, waving a hand in her direction. “Come join us!”

  Christine blinked, then blinked again. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my brother?” she asked, smiling.

  “I’ve turned over a new leaf,” Dennis assured her. “Gone is the sourpuss.” He knew that there would still be some rough times ahead, bad nights when he’d still feel sorry for himself. But he didn’t have to live the rest of his life that way.

  “Good!” Christine said.

  She actually reached out and squeezed his shoulder. Christine had never been a hugger—part of her heritage of being a troll. Voluntarily reaching out and touching him was a huge show of affection from her.

  The guys at the table had all grown quiet watching the exchange.

  “Princess,” Albrecto said. “Will you join us?”

  Christine looked around the table, catching the eye of everyone seated there, drawing their attention through sheer force of will.

  Dennis had seen Christine do this trick before. He remembered the shy girl who would never make eye contact. Then she put on the princess role, and suddenly she was difficult to look away from.

  Badass warrior princess indeed.

  “You’ve heard what happened to the fawns on their world,” Christine said.

  A shudder seemed to run around the table, touching every being there.

  Dennis hadn’t heard. Maybe that was what tonight’s dinner was supposed to be about.

  “The demons are trying to start the Great War. They’ve already taken many steps toward that goal. They’ll succeed, unless we stop them,” Christine continued. “Now, if you want to go about your celebrations, you have my blessing. If you don’t want to talk about the coming war, my brother and I will go eat at a different table.”

  Dennis felt the shift in the mood. The guys had been celebrating a recent victory for their team. They played something like rugby but with a ball that got thrown through a stone ring set at either end of the playing field.

  Oh, and how in the olden days the losers of the big tournaments would be sacrificed, their hearts eaten by the winning team to make them stronger.

  Good times.

  The guys looked at each other, coming to a consensus quickly.

  “We would talk with you. Find out how to protect our own worlds from the attacks,” Albrecto said solemnly. “Please, join us.”

  “Thank you,” Christine said, sitting down next to Dennis. “Let us talk of war.”

  Later that evening, after saying goodnight to their newfound friends, Christine walked with Dennis back to his car.

  “That was the most amazing lamb stew I’ve ever had,” Dennis assured Christine. It had been both hearty and sweet, spiced with peppers, sweet onions, and tangy turnips. The dessert had also been phenomenal, a cream custard with candied ginger and peppery walnuts.

  “I’m glad,” Christine said. She paused, then added, “Also, I need to thank you.”

  “For what?” Dennis asked. He looked over his shoulder at her. The badass warrior princess was gone and it was just Christine again.

  “For talking with the guys back there, making friends with them before I came in,” Christine said. “As a race, they aren’t always the friendliest. By sitting and bullshitting with them, you gave me the opening I desperately needed in order to recruit them.”

  “You’re welcome,” Dennis said. “I didn’t do it on purpose, though.”

  Christine cocked her head to the side. “Yes, you did. You could have sat there pissed at me the entire time.”

  Dennis didn’t blush. That wasn’t his style. Still, he acknowledged the truth of what Christine was saying. “True. But I don’t need to be like that.” He gave a great sigh. “I was just…I don’t know. Pissed off at being second fiddle.”

  “What are you talking about?” Christine asked. She sounded honestly perplexed.

  “I don’t have some great Destiny, like you or Tina,” Dennis said. “I don’t have magic like Dad. I’m just…normal. Mundane. Human.”

  Christine drew closer to Dennis so he could see the fire in her eyes, even in the dimly lit street.

  “You’re my brother,” Christine said. “And sometimes, yeah, you’re an ass.”

  “Thanks,” Dennis said dryly.

  “But you’ve accepted me, and the weirdness that I bring to our family. You don’t see how powerful that is. You have the strength to accept me as I am. You aren’t trying to change me into something else.” Christine paused. “I know it’s weird, and it’s hard, but by being that accepting, you make the world a better place. That isn’t a second-fiddle position. Your strength—the effect you have—is subtle, true. But its reach goes through all the planes of existence.”

  Dennis shook his head. It didn’t feel that way.

  “Plus, I do have a job for you in the coming war. Much more than what you might call a second-fiddle position.”

  “Really?” Dennis asked. Now it was his turn to be confused. He hadn’t been able to add much to the conversation that night. The warriors had talked tactics, where to put armies, how best to fight the demons.

  “What you did in there was tame a group of rowdy beastly boys,” Christine said. “Brought them over to our side. The traditional allies of the kith and kin races are the demons, you know. Not the humans or the Host.”

  Dennis shrugged. “It wasn’t much. I asked them questions about their rugby-like sport and tried to relate.”

  Christine rolled her eyes at him. “I could not have done that. I never played sports. A lot of the kith and kin are all about their games. And I’m sure you talked drinking with them. Or maybe music.”

  “A little,” Dennis admitted, though he’d not taken them up on their offer to go and listen to some weird-ass metal band with bagpipes later that night.

  “I don’t know any of those subjects, how to talk about those,” Christine told him. She sounded really earnest. “I can’t relate to beings like you can.”

  “So…what are you prop
osing? That you want to keep taking me out to dinner?” Dennis said with a grin. “Letting me charm the natives?”

  “Exactly,” Christine said. “Though it’s going to be a bunch of dinners. And lunches. And maybe coffee dates. I’d say breakfasts or brunches, but most of the kith and kin aren’t morning beings.” She grimaced. “I need to build up armies quickly. Any chance I could get you to take a couple weeks off from your work? To go and be social fulltime?”

  Dennis blinked, surprised. That Christine wanted to spend that much time with him was sort of astonishing. He’d had the feeling that she’d just put up with her human family since she’d been transforming herself into the badass warrior princess.

  “I need you,” Christine said softly. “The war effort needs you. All the worlds. Will you help?”

  Dennis knew that Christine was just asking. She wasn’t putting any sort of magical whammy on him to get him to go along with her.

  Not that she did that sort of thing. No, only the demons did that.

  “I’d be delighted to help,” Dennis said. “I was born ready for this job.”

  Christine snorted at him. “Of course you were,” she said dryly.

  Dennis shrugged. In truth, he had been preparing for it his entire life. He’d learned early on how to charm a reluctant client.

  Maybe that was his superpower. Not to fight the great battles, or to direct huge armies. Or even to cast magic.

  But to win hearts and minds for those who did.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Vern shook his head and pushed himself back in the tall winged-back chair he always sat in when he visited Malcom’s study. His limbs felt heavy, as if he’d been fighting for the last few hours. He straightened up further in his chair, feeling his muscles complaining.

  “What have you been doing to me?” Vern said. He shook his head. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to sound so snappish. Just. Ow.”

  Malcom smiled at him. “Have you started remembering your sessions yet?”

  Vern automatically started to say, “No…” when it all came rushing back to him.

  Malcom with the glowing eyes. They hypnotized Vern. He’d stood up, like a puppet, Malcom pulling the strings. Malcom putting a wand in Vern’s hand.

  Vern performing magic. Much greater magic than he’d realized was possible. He felt his magical muscles stretch and strengthen as he and Malcom worked together. That was him actually lifting great boulders up in a pocket world. Him shooting out amazingly powerful lightning bolts. Him calling up great gouts of fire.

  “What have you done to me?” Vern asked again. There was something off here.

  Yes, he’d had magical power. He could feel that now, could touch that sense of energy burbling through his veins.

  Before this week, he would have said it was like flat fizzy water. Just a touch of effervescence remaining in it.

  Now, all that energy sparkled inside him. He was afraid that if he cut himself, each drop of blood that oozed out would bubble and fizz all on its own.

  Malcom gave Vern a tired smile. “War is coming,” he said softly. “I wanted you to be prepared to help your daughter.”

  “I didn’t have this much magic at the start,” Vern said. He didn’t know how he knew that but he was certain of it. His powers had been augmented greatly.

  “True,” Malcom said. He sighed and sat back in his chair. “You remember me telling you about how I started using magic?”

  Vern nodded. “You said it started as a young boy.”

  “And that I didn’t have very much magic of my own,” Malcom said.

  “But you do,” Vern said. He could suddenly see how brightly Malcom glowed. He had his own inner light that was as peaceful as the man himself.

  Vern’s inner light was different. It was just as bright, but it was a lot harder and sharper. As though he wore a suit of great spikey armor.

  Malcom shrugged. “I do have a lot of magic, but I don’t at the same time. I can’t channel my own magic, not like that. Not like you and the others can. What happens is that I end up giving a lot of my power to others.”

  “Why would you do that?” Vern asked, offended on Malcom’s behalf. “Why don’t you keep it for yourself?”

  Malcom laughed. “Oh, I do. I have enough for me to get by. More than that, really. But why would I hog all that power? When I can make the world better by sharing it with others?”

  Vern shook his head. He still didn’t understand.

  “Look, I was raised poor. I know you don’t see it now, but we didn’t even have a pot to piss in. Had to go use the neighbor’s.” Malcom gave a soft laugh.

  Vern didn’t get the joke.

  “I was raised that when you get something extra, you share it. It isn’t yours. You can’t just raise yourself up. You got to raise up everyone around you, bring them up with you,” Malcom explained.

  “Okay,” Vern said. He’d certainly heard about people who had ties that strongly to their community. Vern suddenly felt ashamed that he didn’t.

  “You’re ready now,” Malcom said. “You can make a difference to the war effort. You’ll also be the last person I teach. I’m too old for this, anymore.”

  “Thank you,” Vern said. “I…I don’t know what else to say. Thank you.” He felt bad that he’d taken any of Malcom’s power, freely given or not.

  “You’ll get over it,” Malcom assured Vern. “Now, go win us a war.”

  Vern stood up. He’d never been in the army. He’d actually been a liberal who’d made fun of the army boys, who followed orders and never thought for themselves.

  However, Vern couldn’t help his actions. He saluted Malcom, putting in as much heart as he could. This man deserved a medal. That he’d been preparing them all, working quietly behind the lines for all these years, humbling himself so that others could do great work, was astonishing.

  Malcom slowly stood up. He looked much older than he had before, lines etched into his face, the gray seeming to have spread back from his temples.

  “Thank you,” Malcom said. “Whatever power I’ve imparted to you is in good hands. Keep it that way.”

  After Vern left, he still felt that bubbling of power simmering in his soul. He touched the bracelet that Christine had made for him, that protected him from demon influences.

  He suddenly knew how to make it much stronger. How to protect his home better. How to take the burden off Christine for keeping her family safe.

  He sent another silent thank you to Malcom.

  Then he marched off to prepare for war.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Nik silently went to fetch the potion for the Risilodans that would magically sharpen their daggers and keep the blades clean. A group of about ten of them crowded around his counter, wearing matching rugby outfits. Christine called them the rowdy boys.

  He’d never seen them in here before. Normally, he primarily served human magicians. That more demons, as well as more of the kith and kin, were coming in, was just good for business.

  Or so he told himself.

  He had to remain neutral in the upcoming war. He would supply both side with potions and spell ingredients.

  He did not sell weapons. He never had. That went against every fiber in his wooden body. He wasn’t an arms dealer. Not really. Just tangentially.

  The rowdy boys had the look of orcs, but they had pasty white faces, no upper tusks, and huge noses. They were also really tall, about halfway between a troll and a giant. They were as muscled as the orcs or trolls, possibly a bit more so. If Nik had to guess their heritage, he’d bet that they were a mix of orc and frost giant.

  “So, one of your workers told us about this place,” Albrecto, the leader, said. “She around?”

  Nik instantly knew who he was talking about. “No, Christine isn’t here.” He didn’t volunteer when she’d be there, as while he assumed that they were “friendlies” as it were, he didn’t know for certain.

  “That’s okay,” Albrecto said. “We’ll be meeting up
with her and the war council later tonight. Just thought we’d say hi if she was here.”

  “Ah,” Nik said. He wasn’t sure what else to say.

  He’d heard about the loss of the fawn world. It had imploded after a few days, all the magic drained out of it. The few fawns who remained had gone into hiding, the demons hunting them through all the worlds.

  Nik knew the spell the demons had wanted to cast using the power of all those burning fawn bodies. Or at least, he had the best guess of anyone. He’d sold the demons all the ingredients for the spell, after all.

  What was different this time, compared to the last Great War, was how the demons were using their spells. Demons were generally straight forward when it came to casting. A corruption spell was good enough.

  But someone—and Nik suspected it was Lars—had come up with new variations on the demon’s traditional spells. Either Lars, or his cohorts, had figured out how to twist the spells. Corrupt them.

  Make them into something new, something that had never been seen before.

  However, Nik couldn’t say anything, not to the rowdy boys, not to Christine, not to the demons he still served.

  First of all, Nik never said anything on pure conjecture. He only spoke when he had the facts in hand. That, too, was a lesson he’d learned when he still had a human body.

  And second, warning these boys of the dangers they were about to face would be violating his precious neutrality.

  He did try to sell them some additional demon protection charms. That was just good business.

  But he couldn’t add to their conversations about what they’d be facing. The battles that awaited.

  No matter how much he might want to.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Say that to me again. Slowly,” Christine directed Ozlandia. They were standing in Christine’s practice room, about to start sparring. Christine was dressed in her usual sweats and full troll form. Ozlandia wore more padding under her sweats and had her own ax at the ready. They both wore charms that provided magical shields to deflect the sharp edges of the weapons. While they could get bruised, they wouldn’t cut each other to ribbons while fighting.