Paper & Blood

by Kevin Hearne

  The arrows came and the women did their best tae meet them as Cletus grabbed another rocket launcher. They formed a little hobgoblin wall in front of his body, standing on shoulders, shields upraised, leaping into the air as necessary. Sometimes the arrows didnae thunk into their shields but sank into their flesh; ma aunt took an arrow tae the knee and still walks with a limp. Two others—Anita Goodbang and Bonnie Bedwell—died, sacrificing themselves to the cause. But Cletus took no arrows.

  The second grenade destroyed the tower on the right, and that created a little space, since only the platform above the cave entrance remained. They had fewer arrows coming at them, and their accuracy was off since they were farther away. And then the volleys ceased altogether, because a squad of trolls charged out of the warren, wielding giant maces and spears and the like. The mace heads were carved stone lined with bronze, and they did an absolutely smashing job at smashing, in case ye wondered.

  But since they saw ’em coming and Blech Karnage wasnae among them, the hobgoblins could do sumhin about it. They ported out in pairs, with a length of rope stretched between ’em, and tripped the bastards as they charged. One would go down and take at least one other with him, if not more. The hobs would port back before the trolls could smash them, then another pair would port out and trip up another one. It slowed down the charge quite nicely and gave Cletus the time tae line up a shot at the platform. Once that shook the hillside and brought all kinds o’ debris raining down across the entrance, the alarm was well and truly sounded inside. More trolls started boiling out of there. And Cletus switched tae his guns, slowly advancing as the coked-up monsters tried tae rush him. The hobgoblins slowed them down, allowing Cletus tae take his shots—and he was a good one. Trolls are big targets, tae be sure, but he was pure aces, hittin’ them someplace vital, in the heid or their huge necks, and then the iron did the rest. They ran out of trolls before he ran out of bullets, but it wasnae over.

  Blech Karnage had no come out of his cave. He was smart enough at least tae know that if he came out, he could be surrounded. And he might have heard there was a human out there with human weapons, mowing down his grand gang of bastards, so sticking his heid out would be unwise. And besides, he was warded and protected in there. I mean wards beyond the no-teleportation field. Kinetic ones, designed tae foil things like explosions and projectiles. They were painted on the floor, walls, and ceilings. It’s why we could never collapse the damn hill on his heid. But once Holga had explained the situation tae our mechanic, he came up with a plan.

  They gathered around the entrance tae the den and peered inside. It reeked, of course, because trolls are no good housekeepers. There were rats squeaking and spiders lurking and plenty of offal splattered around and flies buzzing about all the offal. Blech Karnage would be deep down, humping a pumpkin or sumhin.

  On the sides of the entrance, they got a closer look at the mounted trophies. The women were reading the names, and ma Aunt Prissy cried out, for she found ma uncle’s there, and others found names of people close tae them.

  Cletus said, “I’m so sorry. But we need to press the advantage before more trolls come out. I need the first cave team to come with me.”

  Cave Team One was just three hobgoblins in thick-soled boots—one for the wheelbarrow carrying the crate with the guns in it, and two more tae serve as a shield or distraction if any trolls emerged. They carried torches too. The rest remained outside.

  They rolled in, illuminating a medium-sized cavern with ten-foot ceilings that was perhaps forty feet wide and deep before branching intae two different passages below. They knew from intelligence gathered by the women who’d worked there that the right-hand passage led tae the personal rooms of Blech Karnage; the left led tae all sorts of other rooms, including quarters for most of the other trolls. Cletus pulled back a sheet of leather that effectively separated the guns in the wheelbarrow from the goodies underneath. Those goodies were little iron balls, about the size of the fingernail on yer pinky. He thrust his hand down intae all that iron, which made the hobs shudder, and pulled out a handful. He scattered them on the floor over a painted ward he could plainly see and over a couple of other places the hobs pointed at because they could sense some magic there.

  The point wasnae tae create uncertain footing but tae let that iron weaken or even destroy those wards on the floor. He kinda stomped on them and rolled them around all over the wards, until the hobgoblins told him he’d most likely done the deed proper. Then they scooted out of there.

  Outside, Cletus reached intae the third crate for the first time and pulled out one of his own creations: a pipe bomb packed full of even more of those iron balls. He lit the fuse with a lighter out of his pocket and tossed it in, warning everyone tae get away from the entrance. The resulting explosion drove the iron shrapnel intae the walls and ceiling, where it could disrupt the wards there. Those wards were keeping the place structurally intact and maybe even fulfilling other security functions—they didnae know the full extent of the magic in Karnage’s den, just that it had been impregnable so far. Cletus was making it pregnable.

  They waited a bit for the dust tae settle and see if any more trolls came raging out of there. When none did, Holga and Cletus and Cave Team One entered again tae survey the damage. There was a wee crater where the bomb had exploded, and plenty of shrapnel was scattered about and embedded in the walls. Most interesting, there was a collection of those balls lined up at the threshold tae the two passages at the back.

  The shrapnel had tried tae travel past it, but its failure tae do so indicated that there were kinetic wards in effect there.

  “Huh. Would ya lookit that,” Cletus said. “That’s pretty gnarly.”

  “I thought that would have brought some trolls running,” Holga mused. “I don’t like this. They’re planning sumhin. Waiting for us tae come tae them.”

  “Well, we have plans too.”

  “Right. Let’s be about it.”

  Cletus repeated the procedure of spreading iron on the floor of the left-hand passage, which would allow him tae explode some more bombs, in turn deactivating wards on the walls and ceilings and making them vulnerable tae cave-ins. It took a total of five pipe bombs tae accomplish it, but eventually the left-hand passage caved in and however many trolls were down there wouldnae be coming up again.

  The right-hand passage was still open and perfectly sound, its protections fortifying it against all the explosions happening on the other side. That was fine with her: Holga didnae want tae merely trap Blech Karnage down there, because that would allow someone tae dig him up someday and take that ring and dominate hobgoblins again. She wanted the ring destroyed, so they’d be going down there tae find him.

  Cave Team Two was three hobgoblins armed with push brooms, and it was their time tae shine. Cletus upended the crate of iron balls ontae the floor of the right-hand passage and the hobs pushed the wee spheres along, allowing them tae disrupt the magic of any wards or enchantments on the floor. Cletus followed behind, handgun at the ready.

  At first, there was nothing tae worry about. They heard grunts and rumblings in the distance, but nothing seemed close. They peeked intae a couple of rooms that had been carved out and decorated with troll nonsense, confirmed they were clear of anything dangerous except for the smells, and kept going.

  They realized after a while that they were no hearing grumbles and roars anymore. It had gone too quiet, ye see.

  They arrived at the bottom of the cavern complex and discovered it was lit by a shiteload of torches. It was the final cavern, which had a bunch of satellite rooms protected by actual doors. There was an underground river flowing through there tae the right and a water mill churning, doing some kinda work, and that noise echoed throughout the cavern. There were barrels of stolen whisky and literal crates of cocaine stacked up by the river. Some rats had gotten intae the cocaine and were scurrying about, squeaking like mad, because it�
��s a hell of a drug. But there were no trolls visible, which was weird.

  Because of all the noise, they didnae hear the clucking until it was too late.

  One of the hobgoblin women in Cave Team Two, Molly Gashbeard, pointed her push broom off tae the left. “Look out!” she said, pointing. “It’s a—” and then she turned tae stone. Holga immediately pulled Cletus back out of there, intae the passage, where they couldnae see the cavern except straight ahead, and the other hobs ported intae the hall with their brooms. They still weren’t inside the nullification field of Karnage’s ring.

  “Lord, what happened?” Cletus asked. “Was that, like, a gorgon or something?”

  “They have a cockatrice,” Holga said. “That’s why the bastards are holed up in their rooms. They left a stone-cold chicken snake in there tae take care of us.”

  Cletus had heard of cockatrices before. Poisonous magical creatures, roosters with snake tails, sometimes confused with basilisks, that can turn victims tae stone with a look. He talked as he moved tae the crate full of pipe bombs.

  “We need some of y’all to close your eyes and push iron in that direction to clear out any kinetic wards. Then I’ll lob some bombs in there.”

  The two surviving members of Cave Team Two got on it, keeping their eyes tae the ground, keeping their ears open, and hoping the cockatrice would give a cluck. Shoving the iron balls in that direction did exactly what they hoped: It deactivated wards and alarmed the cockatrice enough tae make some noise.

  “All right, that’s good, y’all come back,” he said. They did so and he lit up a bomb and tossed it toward the sound of the cockatrice, careful tae not look in that direction. A startled squawk followed the explosion, and Cletus grinned.

  “Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” he said.

  A deep troll voice roared, “Bring me their heids!” and all the trolls who’d been hiding behind those doors burst out of there, armed with maces and sporting additional armor on top of their troll skin. It was thick and heavy hardened leather, some of it encrusted with jewels that hobs had recently stolen for them, and a possible impediment tae the iron slugs that Cletus had left.

  “Eyes!” Holga shouted, and the hobgoblin women all drew their bronze stilettos and ported ontae the backs of the charging trolls while they could.

  There is no way that hobs can match trolls in strength or penetrate the natural armor of their skin. Their only vulnerability is their eyes, so our automatic response tae a troll attack is tae blind them at minimum and shove that stiletto all the way intae their wee troll brains if possible. MacBharrais has seen me do it before—we had a stooshie with a troll not so long ago.

  The trolls, of course, are aware of the tactic and expect it. So as soon as they feel us on their backs, they try to dislodge us—or else they whip those maces back and try tae smash us. They drop facedown intae the dirt sometimes tae deny us a target. They’ll cover their eyes with a hand, preventing us from stabbing through. There’s no standard tactic, because trolls cannae get themselves organized enough for that. So the key, always, is tae move fast and get out of there; ye take yer shot and run, and if ye miss or yer blocked, take off and try again.

  Ma Aunt Prissy was actually riding one of the wheelbarrows and couldnae fight, but she didnae want tae miss a thing. There were nine trolls, including Blech Karnage, and nine remaining hobgoblins, including ma aunt, plus Cletus. The one port was all they got, because Karnage emerged from his chamber wearing that blasted ring and the nullification field quickly enveloped the fighters. Four of them, including Holga, successfully delivered stilettos tae the brain. Two of them—Madge Vadgewater and Torie Knobgristle—missed their targets and couldnae port away, and they got smashed deid. Two others missed but jumped free, pursued by the trolls. So focused on the hobgoblins were they, the big bastards forgot all about Cletus.

  He coolly pumped a round intae four trolls, dropping each one with a heid shot, and then he was out of ammunition. The only one left was Blech Karnage, and he, at least, realized that he was on the verge of losing everything because of that human.

  So he ignored the hobgoblins and charged at Cletus, his mace held high and ready tae strike.

  Cletus had no functioning weapons, but he threw his gun at Karnage just tae annoy him, maybe sting him with the iron on the barrel. It bounced harmlessly off the brute’s armor, but Cletus stood his ground and roared back at the troll.

  The thing is, Karnage really shouldnae have ignored the hobgoblins. There were six fighting women left, including Holga Thunderpoot herself, and while they couldnae teleport ontae his back, they could still jump and scramble faster than any troll.

  All six of them attacked Karnage at once, leaping ontae his head and shoulders and making him take notice. He had tae stop and deal with it, dropping his mace and tearing at the women trying tae shove a stiletto intae his eyes. He crushed Wanda Wildbush’s ribs in his fist and threw her so far she landed in the underground river. He ripped Kiki Sleekcheeks from his face and threw her at his feet before he stomped on her. He batted Penny Bigbone away—or so he thought. She held on tae his finger, and while he was distracted, trying tae shake her off like a boogie, Holga Thunderpoot, gods bless her, saw her chance. She lunged and thrust her stiletto intae his left eye, shoving it in all the way tae the hilt.

  Blech Karnage made a choking noise in his throat—“Hurrk!”—convulsed once, and fell backward, Holga riding him all the way down.

  And the first thing she did after pulling out her blade was to take that damn ring off the Nutbane’s finger and give it tae Cletus Joe Bob MacCutcheon.

  “When ye get back tae earth,” she said, “ye must melt this down tae nothing and witness it with yer own eyes. If ye throw it away, it can be found again. It must be destroyed. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” he said, and slipped it intae his pocket.

  Well, they celebrated and looted the place, and they mourned the deid and carried the stone figure of Molly Gashbeard out of there tae be returned tae her family, forever a heroine for saving them all from the cockatrice. And once they emerged from the den, ma Aunt Prissy Shitesquirt did sumhin that inadvertently caused a phenomenon in the human world.

  Ye see, everyone wanted tae thank Cletus somehow. They gave him a barrel of whisky, which he appreciated, and tried tae give him a crate of cocaine, though he said no thanks tae that. They promised tae steal all his groceries for him for a year and give him another mattress full of fifties. They were gonnay take him tae Mag Mell, the heroes’ plane, and let him experience paradise for a day, soaking in healing springs and drinking free beer. Holga was gonnay bring all the Thunderpoots out tae his property and give all the buildings a new paint job and spruce up the place. But Aunt Prissy had nothing tae give him, and she was wounded and couldnae perform any service for him.

  So she took down ma uncle’s nuts off the side of the den and gave them tae Cletus, who didnae know what tae say. Tae be fair, the gifting of nuts isnae commonplace, bound by well-established rules of etiquette, so we can forgive Cletus for being somewhat adrift.

  “Y’all are giving me…some green nuts?” he said.

  “They’re light blue,” she pointed out.

  “Aw, shit. Sorry. Tritanopia. But, uh…I have to admit, I’m not sure what to do with a pair of blue balls.”

  “They are proof of the kind of human ye are. A man who will ride tae the aid of strangers. My husband will always be a stranger tae ye, but in a way, you’ve given him back tae me. I’ve heard ye drive an impressive motor back on earth.”

  “Naw, it’s just a big ol’ truck.”

  “It would be an honor for ma family if this wee bit of Bunk could ride with ye always, a talisman of sorts, so that ma family could look after ye the way you have looked after us.”

  “You sure? Like, are these going to be okay in the sun and weather and all?”

  “Oh, yes, the
y’re sealed and inert at this point. Tanned, cured, whatever.”

  Cletus gently squeezed them experimentally. “They’re kinda tough and tender at the same time.”

  “That’s hobgoblins for ye.”

  “All right. I’m honored, Mrs. Shitesquirt.”

  When Holga led Cletus back tae Tennessee through the Old Way, he hung the preserved blue balls of my uncle, Bunk Shitesquirt, from the trailer hitch on the back of his truck, thereby displaying the world’s first pair of truck nuts. He had no inkling at the time what cultural insanity this action would inspire; he was merely trying tae honor the wishes of a widow. Humans didnae understand that the first pair of truck nuts was a memorial and a testament tae the debt hobgoblins owed the Alabama Troll Slayer, as he’s now known, and Cletus could hardly explain.

  He’s an ol’ man now, like MacBharrais here, but he owns MacCutcheon’s Garage and his property’s been all fixed up tae look fancy. He still goes out tae his workshop on the weekends and listens tae his jukebox, still drives a truck with ma uncle’s wizened nuts dangling on the back, and still wears a ball cap, but it’s the Rocket City Trash Pandas now. What Oberon told ye earlier is truth: Ye always have tae fight the monsters, no matter where they are. And sometimes, tae do it right, ye need tae enlist the help of some unlikely allies. Allies like yerselves, is what I’m sayin’. It’s grand tae be here on this adventure with ye.

  Ya-ping clapped and beamed at Buck. “Beauty, mate. If anyone ever says to me that they’ve heard it all, I’ll stop them and say they definitely haven’t, they really, really haven’t.”

  “I’ve always wondered about how truck nuts got started,” Officer Campbell said. “Somehow, that whole thing with hobgoblins and trolls and cocaine sounds way more likely than someone independently thinking it would be a good idea.”

  [I have a question, Buck: Why didn’t you, or your aunt, join Holga Thunderpoot on Fand’s side of the rebellion against Brighid, if Holga was such a culture hero?]