The Great Troll War

‘Look at you!’ beamed my mother, sitting down next to me. ‘All sort of warrior-like. Did you find the Eye of Zoltar?’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘but the Trolls invaded in our absence and now I’m not only responsible for a ramshackle army of resistance, but am chief adviser to the Queen, a position that might unite the Kingdoms once and for all – supposing we live that long.’

‘You’ve always delivered before,’ said my father kindly. He was always kind, but this was how I wanted him to be, so it was how the magic made him appear. I looked down at the Pollyanna Stone, where my saliva was bubbling on the surface. They’d only be here for another ten seconds or so.

‘I often wonder,’ I said, ‘how different my life would have turned out had I been indentured to a hotel or fast-food outlet instead of a House of Enchantment.’

My mother put her translucent hand on mine.

‘Where you are now is where you were always going to be,’ she said. ‘You were always going to be the Last Dragonslayer and nothing would have altered it. This is your destiny, Jenny, and for better or worse, you will fulfil it.’

‘The Mighty Shandar is the most powerful wizard yet known,’ I said, ‘and planned much of this in advance. It seems likely he removed the Dragons for precisely the same reason he removed Zambini – so nothing could ever stand in his way.’

‘You stand in his way,’ said Dad, ‘so he’s not that powerful. He can’t kill you, vanish you, turn you to stone or even teleport you to the Antarctic. You control your own destiny, but you also control his. Where you go, so must he.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Jenny,’ said my mother, ‘all that you have ever done is leading to a single decision point where everything hangs in the balance and nothing will ever be the same again. A moment where only you can make things right, where only you can make the difference that matters.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. You’re different and you’ve always known that.’

She was right. I’d always felt it. At the orphanage I’d been respected rather than popular. Bullies never troubled me. Strange by name, strange by nature, I’d heard them say.

‘Tell me what will happen,’ I said, ‘tell me what I should do.’

They smiled at me.

‘We’re not real,’ said my mother, ‘we’re only saying what you want to hear. Our knowledge outside of this is limited.’

I looked again at the Pollyanna Stone as the last of my saliva boiled away, and by the time I looked up, they had gone and I was left staring at the empty space.

‘Quark,’ said the Quarkbeast, who was sitting on my foot, something he often did, I think because he found it comforting.

‘What do you think, boy?’ I asked, folding up the photo of my parents and returning it to my pocket with the Pollyanna Stone.

‘Quark,’ he said again.

‘I know,’ I replied, tickling him behind the ear, ‘uncertain times.’

‘Miss Strange?’

I turned. It was the representatives of the fencers, marksmen and worriers. They had elected to come out and have some fish and chips instead of eating in the hotel.

‘Fancy a chip?’ asked the worrier. ‘I hope I haven’t overdone it on the salt.’

‘Thank you. Perfect,’ I said, not telling him that, yes, they did indeed have too much salt on them. I budged up on the bench so they could sit down.

‘What’s Christopher Timothy doing as a statue all the way down here?’ asked the Chief Fencer.

I decided not to correct her.

‘How many people do you have under your control?’ I asked instead. ‘All of you, like, in total?’

The number, it turned out, was eighteen hundred, more if the haberdashers wanted to help out.

‘That’s good,’ I said, as at least there was a command structure of sorts in place. ‘Were any of you in the military?’

‘I was,’ said the worrier, ‘but I’ve a bad feeling you’re going to give me something important to do and I would then fail utterly and bring dishonour on my family to the end of recorded history.’

‘That’s a worst-case scenario, right?’ I asked.

‘Is there any other?’

‘From personal experience,’ I said, ‘things can and do come out all right. What rank were you?’

‘A second lieutenant in the Queendom of Mercia’s land army.’

‘Have you seen combat?’

‘I was in the catering corps, but it was still traumatic. Have you ever thought just how stressful it is making spaghetti and meatballs for six thousand soldiers? I forgot the cheese one evening and had to demote myself. Look, don’t you think Sir Matt Grifflon would be better suited to lead us all? I think I saw him just now in the Co-Op.’

‘No, we need someone we can trust,’ I said, ‘and I speak for the Queen when I say this: I promote you to General Worrier, commander of the resistance army. These two will be your second- and third-in-command: Major Worrier, and Private Worrier.’

‘I’m not sure I can do this,’ said the general.

‘Nonsense,’ I said. ‘Besides, I appointed you in full recognition of the facts – so any failure of yours is a greater failure of mine. I promoted you; the responsibility is all mine.’