The Troll-Demon War Page 15

  “We think we know which world the demons are going after next,” Ozlandia said.

  Christine lowered her great ax. “Where?” she demanded.

  Ozlandia merely smiled at her and shook her head. “No. Not until after practice.”

  “Are you insane?” Christine said. “We don’t have time—”

  “We have time to get our troops in place,” Ozlandia assured her. She pulled a sharp rock out of a pocket and tossed it at Christine, who automatically raised her ax to deflect the stone. “We practice first.”

  “But why?” Christine growled as she made a half-hearted attempt at a feint. Christine did not understand why Ozlandia was insisting on this.

  Ozlandia shook her head and didn’t say anything. She attacked suddenly, drawing all of Christine’s attention to the fight ahead of her.

  Christine found herself growling in frustration. Ozlandia had news! News that Christine could use! Why were they sparring?

  When Ozlandia got through Christine’s defenses yet again, striking Christine’s ribs with the long wooden handle of her ax, it finally occurred to Christine that this was a different sort of practice.

  Many things would go on at the same time during a battle. Some of Christine’s warriors and friends were going to be fighting for their lives.

  Christine had to be able to focus on the threat in front of her. Even when she’d rather be doing something else.

  Particularly when there were other distractions.

  It was difficult, but Christine narrowed her focus to the troll she battled in front of her. The tenor of their sparring changed, growing much more serious.

  And more deadly.

  Christine wasn’t inclined to pull her punches. Not that morning. A part of her wondered if Ozlandia wanted Christine to beat the information out of her.

  Slash. Pivot. Block. Strike.

  For all the practice that Christine had been doing, she still wasn’t as good of a physical fighter as the captain of the king’s guard, who’d been practicing her entire life.

  What Christine had that the others didn’t was magic.

  Usually, when sparring with any of the guard, Christine didn’t use her magic. It was a pure physical combat. She’d practiced magical battles with Tina, until recently. Christine didn’t want to think about trying to find someone else to spar magically with. Tina had to get better. Soon.

  After being unable to get through Ozlandia’s defenses yet again, Christine finally decided it was time to “cheat.” She called up her air elemental, intending to just blow the other woman to the side.

  But Ozlandia stayed standing.

  Christine narrowed her eyes. It seemed that the captain of the guards had more than her usual charms to protect her that morning.

  Fine.

  Some part of Christine was aware that any magical being she faced would be better prepared than Ozlandia. That they’d already talked about the need for Christine to combine both her physical and magical attacks and not to think of them as separate entities.

  While it had been easy for Christine to find someone to physically spar with, beings who were equipped to spar both physically and magically were hard to come by.

  Christine called up her air element to throw lights at Ozlandia. Instead of the pretty strings of jewel colored lights that Christine had used before, they were a whirlwind of bright, sharp, white lights that appeared to be thrown from the center by the force of the winds.

  The lights didn’t have a physical component. As much as they appeared to be attacking, they weren’t. They couldn’t even blind an opponent, not without Christine risking being blinded herself.

  They were an excellent distraction.

  Ozlandia swung at the lights streaming toward her. Christine stepped through the other troll’s defenses finally and whacked Ozlandia in the head with the side of her ax. Not hard enough to knock the other troll unconscious. The blow did cause the other troll to crumple onto the floor.

  “Enough?” Christine asked, ax raised high, not letting her guard down. Ozlandia could be faking it, waiting for her opponent to draw close enough for another strike.

  Ozlandia smiled up at Christine. “Good. You’ve learned.”

  Christine opened her mouth then shut it again. It had been one of the more difficult lessons, to not trust that a fallen enemy was actually, well, fallen.

  “Enough?” Christine growled again. She would fight on if necessary. Hopefully she’d proven that she could focus when needed, and Ozlandia would actually tell her the news she had.

  “Enough,” Ozlandia said. She put her ax down on the floor, then pushed herself over to a wall so she could lean against it.

  Christine did the same, leaning against the good solid earth. She pulled the waiting water bottles over to the pair of them as they rested, catching their breath.

  “It appears that troops of demons have hidden themselves on four different worlds,” Ozlandia began without preamble. “Worlds of different kith and kin, like the Daisilium, you know, the flower people?”

  Christine gulped. Were the demons planning on attacking them? It would be as much of a slaughter as the fawns if the magic of the flower people failed. That was the primary consensus of every being she’d talked with about the fawns, that somehow the demons had overwhelmed the natural magical defenses of the fawns, making them fall back to a purely physical defense.

  Hence, the complete slaughter.

  “What are they doing on these worlds?” Christine asked.

  Ozlandia shrugged. “They’re trying to stay hidden, out of the way. They’re waiting for something. Some sort of signal before they attack.”

  “We need to get our troops in place, then. Be ready to defend these beings,” Christine said.

  Ozlandia nodded. “Figured that was what you’d want to do. We’ll need a lot of magical support to stay hidden like the demons, to play their waiting game.”

  “What would happen if we just attacked? Before they did?” Christine mused.

  “The demons would then declare that we’d started the Great War by attacking them unprovoked,” Ozlandia said, the disgust evident in her voice. “The Host might even agree with them. And that would turn some of the kith and kin who you’ve recruited against you. No, we’re going to have to wait.”

  “All right,” Christine said with a sigh. “I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t either,” Ozlandia said. “I wish we had better intelligence about what the demons were actually up to. Have you been able to figure out why they were burning the fawns? What spell would be powered by all those lives?”

  “I wish I knew,” Christine said. She’d asked Nik, but he wouldn’t say anything, not unless he was one hundred percent certain. He’d always been like that.

  Tina hadn’t been much help either. She’d never been taught how to recreate demon magic or what components went into their spells, just how to fight them.

  “How large are the demon armies?” Christine asked.

  “Huge,” Ozlandia admitted. “We’re going to be thinly stretched no matter what.”

  Christine took a deep breath. This was it. The time of the war was coming. How could she prevent it? The demons were far too organized. It went against their very nature.

  Who was the mastermind behind the new plans by the demons? Was it Lars? Had that been all he’d been doing over the five years he’d been imprisoned? Had he been the one to figure out how to oppose an opponent’s magical defenses? Probably. It had that feeling.

  She remembered when he’d kidnapped Tina. He’d planned on twisting—corrupting—her Destiny. He must have come up with something similar for corrupting magical defenses.

  He was a greater enemy than she’d ever given him credit for.

  Hopefully she’d prepared enough to beat him before the war began.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Buddy cavorted alone in the throne room, shaking his fat ass and letting his big belly hang out. The rock walls glowed with barely contained l
ava. Boulders in the corner steamed. Ash filled the air like confetti. The lovely sound of screams echoed throughout the room, piped in from Buddy’s personal torture chamber.

  It appeared that Lars might actually pull this off.

  All the other beings had been shocked at the slaughter of the fawns. It was all the kith and kin, as well as the Host, appeared to be talking about.

  They’d missed the entire death of the grassland beings. Lars had managed to pull that one off without anyone being the wiser. While their deaths wouldn’t power as strong of an eruption spell, at least the spell could be completed.

  Then again, the grassland beings traveled even less frequently than the fawns. And they kept their world closed to most visitors. They’d deliberately trapped themselves on their own plane.

  In order to travel to their plane, you had to be invited by one of the grassland beings. The chances of someone stumbling on their deaths before the right time was even smaller than finding out that the fawns were gone.

  Buddy still wasn’t certain exactly how Lars had managed to get onto their plane. He must have corrupted some other spell.

  No matter.

  Today, Buddy could taste victory. And it smelled even sweeter than his own farts.

  His PR machine was all set to send out victory dispatches. Particularly since Lars had managed to get the enemy distracted.

  Buddy danced around the throne room again, his bare, clawed toes clicking against the rocks, his snout belching tiny flames and smoke.

  Of course, Buddy had a second set of dispatches also prepared, in case Lars didn’t succeed. The victory set was all about how Buddy had put Lars into the right position so that they could be successful.

  The other set was all about how Buddy had tried to caution the young hotheaded demon about such a foolish attack, even as he’d supplied the troops.

  Buddy hadn’t been this excited about a battle since the old days of the first Great War.

  He may, may, even have to join with the other demons on the battlefields.

  Only if they were winning, of course.

  Buddy still wasn’t looking forward to having to crown another prince of hell. He also knew that Lars wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less.

  Not unless Buddy was able to somehow temper Lars’ victory…

  He’d have to put some thought into that. Buddy wouldn’t be helping his enemies. It was pure self-interest.

  In the meanwhile, maybe he should order tacos for everyone. Again. Because what better way to celebrate than with meat that was spicy enough to burn the tongue?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “I can’t help,” Tina said. Damn it. She didn’t want to cry again. Not even in front of Christine.

  They sat in the beautiful breakfast nook of the townhouse Tina shared with her two roommates. They were both at their jobs. (Ugh, was she going to have to get one of those? If she couldn’t support herself magically?) The back of the building looked over a lovely green area full of pines, big-leaf maples, and oaks. Down at the bottom of a slight hill ran a small creek. The frogs sang along with Tina’s grief at night.

  “But why?” Christine asked, clearly puzzled. “We need you. If we don’t have more magical support, we’re not going to be able to hide or be ready for when the demons attack.”

  Tina signed. “My magic…it’s draining away. Quickly. Even the simplest spell is slipping away.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Christine said. She wore her human doppelganger look that day.

  For Tina, it was like looking into a dark mirror. Their faces had almost the same bone structure, though Christine’s was a touch wider and broader. However, their noses, lips, eyes, were all the same. Just that Christine’s coloring was much darker, with brown hair instead of blonde, brown eyes instead of blue, and much darker skin compared to Tina’s pale white.

  Their outfits were opposite as well. Christine wore an emerald colored T-shirt over light-blue jeans, while Tina wore a black shirt and black jeans.

  “Have you talked with Malcom?” Christine asked after a moment.

  Tina shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t ask or tell anyone. You’re the only one who knows the extent of it.”

  “You’ve got to get help,” Christine said gently. Well, as gently as a troll could. Tina knew Christine meant well.

  “No one can help me,” Tina said. “People don’t just lose their magic this way.”

  Christine gave Tina a sharp look. “Then it might not be you.” She paused, then added, “I hate to ask this, but is there a chance that you’re being influenced by demons?”

  “No,” Tina snapped immediately. “Not a chance. That was one of the first things I checked. All my magical defenses are in place.”

  “The fawns probably thought their magical defenses were in place. But the demons still overwhelmed them. I think you should check again. Or have someone else check for you,” Christine insisted.

  Tina shook her head.

  “See? That’s what I mean,” Christine said. Anger tinted her tone, making Tina feel even more isolated.

  “I don’t understand,” Tina said after a moment.

  Christine paused, as if trying to find the right words. “You are reacting as if you’re depressed,” she said slowly.

  “Of course I’m depressed! My magic’s disappearing! My magic is my only reason for living!” Tina said, starting to get angry as well.

  “See? That’s the Tina I know. Not this mopey teenager full of ‘woe is me’ and angst,” Christine said. “You need to fight this, Tina. I know you can. This isn’t you.”

  Tina took a deep breath. “It just feels like I’m pushing a dead weight up a hill,” she admitted.

  Christine nodded. “That’s the depression. Something is influencing you. Something demonic. You need to get out of the house. Go visit Malcom. Hell, go and see your parents. When was the last time you left this place?”

  Tina thought for a moment. “The last time we had dinner together,” she said after a moment. That had been over a month ago.

  “And you haven’t left the townhouse since?” Christine asked.

  “No…” Tina said.

  “That’s not like you either,” Christine said flatly.

  “But I don’t want to leave!” Tina said. She heard the scared wail in her tone. “I’m afraid to leave.”

  Christine stood up. “You need to get help.”

  “But—”

  “No,” Christine said. “No more excuses. You need to get help. Not just sit here in the dark, moping.”

  “You don’t understand,” Tina said.

  “Yes, I do. Better than anyone else,” Christine replied. “Remember that changeling spell that kept me afraid of going out, afraid of leaving my apartment, afraid of trying anything new? The same thing’s been cast on you. You need to fight it.”

  Tina heard the “or else” at the end of that statement. Tina wasn’t sure what Christine’s “or else” would entail. She didn’t dare ask.

  After Christine had left, Tina opened up the windows looking out on the green area. She took several deep breaths of the cleansing air.

  She would make herself get up. To leave her townhouse. To go walk in the sunshine, or even the rain.

  Maybe tomorrow.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ty groaned as he tried, and failed, to push himself up. Again.

  Damn, that hurt. That demon had slashed him, then poisoned him, but good.

  He lay on the couch in his tiny studio apartment. While hunting demons paid well, Ty also spent a lot of money on equipment and spell ingredients. He could probably afford something bigger—his savings account was rounding out nicely—but he didn’t see the point. He was rarely here, spending most of his time either hunting or in court, testifying.

  At least this was a nice place to convalesce for a while. Wood parquet covered the floor, warm and polished. Sun streamed in through the southern-facing windows, as did the traffic noise from the busy street just outsid
e. Ty lived on the ground floor. He wasn’t worried as much about demons coming through the wide windows to get him as he was about being able to get out without breaking his fool neck by living on the top floor or something.

  The kitchen contained a compact four-ring cooktop, an oven that was just as small, a microwave, a sink, and maybe two feet of countertop. All of it was spotless. For Ty, it was perfect, as he generally went out to eat. Or had food delivered. It was one of the advantages of living on Capitol Hill.

  To the right of the couch lay Ty’s bed, tucked into a corner. He’d slept on a fold-out bed for years. However, too often he’d ended up just crashing on the couch, ending up with cricks in his neck and his back being thrown out. Though this apartment was barely four hundred square feet, he’d still splurged on a real (single, extra-long) bed as well as a couch he could stretch out on.

  He was getting tired of staring at the same four walls. At least Christine had come by to see him earlier.

  He’d hated to disappoint her, but he couldn’t join the battle. Not yet. Not until he’d recovered.

  He hadn’t admitted to her just how much Tina’s “help” had ended up damaging him. The second line of infection was much worse than the original claw mark. Seemed that Tina’s magic had accelerated the spread of the poison.

  That girl was trouble. He’d always thought so, particularly after seeing how Christine had blossomed over the past few years, growing far beyond her human doppelganger.

  Still. Ty managed to push himself up to seated, swinging his legs heavily to the floor.

  He’d assured Christine that he’d join the battles later.

  Because Ty had a bad feeling about all of this.

  War was coming.

  And he was on the sidelines, at least for now.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  King Garethen tried to pay attention to what Manny was saying. However, his eyes kept flickering over to the trunks of gold lining the walls of the little root cellar they met in.