FORTY-NINE

Aftermath

It was too dangerous to cross the border until we knew more about what was happening, so we stayed put. I tried over and over again to reach Kazam on the conch, but with no success. The road out of the kingdom was soon packed full of refugees, vehicles, and medical personnel tending to any wounded who had managed to escape. Tharv, true to his cherished principles of unpredictability, welcomed the refugees from the Kingdom of Snodd, and from the garbled reports from displaced citizens, we managed to piece together what had happened—yet it took us a while to realize who the enemy was.

The Snoddian royal family was, as we had feared, killed when the palace was destroyed. We also learned that the war had not been solely against the Kingdom of Snodd. Of the twenty-eight nations within the Ununited Kingdoms, all but nine were now overrun, or had surrendered. Information was scarce, but it seemed that Financia had been spared because it was a center of banking, the Duchy of Portland had been defended successfully due to its deep moat, and the seagoing nation of the Isle of Wight had been away conducting sea trials in the North Atlantic.

It was hard to describe the chaos in which we found ourselves as we walked up to the border. Homeless people had grabbed what they could before fleeing, and mothers desperately searched for husbands, their children clinging on tightly with a look of numb terror upon their faces. There were casualties, too; soldiers with appalling wounds were being treated as best they could be. Amidst all this, the Cambrian gunners lay waiting, their weapons trained upon the invaders, poised to return fire if attacked.

For the invaders were there, sitting outside the Snoddian customs post on the other side of the River Wye, doing nothing, awaiting orders. The larger members totaled six and were each twenty-five feet tall, dressed only in a loincloth and heavy battle-bootees. Their skin was covered in elaborate tattoos, each had a dead goat decorating a copper war helmet, and their small, cruel eyes stared greedily.

“Trolls,” hissed the princess when we saw them. “I hate trolls.”

“And not alone,” said Addie. “Look.”

The other members of the group she indicated were fewer in number and stature, and looked like nothing more than businessmen in dark suits and sunglasses. The group had planted two flags in the ground denoting their allegiance and the extent of their new territories. The Trollvanian flag was obvious, but the second standard gave me a shock. It had the sign of the flaming footprint: the Mighty Shandar.

“I can’t see from this distance,” said Addie, “but I’ll bet good money there’s nothing in those suits.”

“Hollow Men,” said the princess, “presumably there to relay orders from their master to the troll warriors.”

“The Mighty Shandar,” said Boo, “as treacherous as he is arrogant. Despite all that he has done, I never trusted him. Not one inch.”

“But Kevin Zipp was right,” I said. “The next Troll War was going to be when it was least expected. It would be bloody, short, and the aggressors would be victorious. Sadly, the victorious aggressors weren’t us—they were the trolls.”

“It explains why Tiger and Moobin were so keen for us to find the Eye of Zoltar,” said the princess. “To defeat Shandar, we’re going to need some serious magical power of our own.”

“It also explains why Moobin was telling you that the princess needed to be protected at all costs,” said Addie. “A defeated nation needs leadership.”

“I think they would have fought bravely,” said the princess, “my parents, the army, everyone at Kazam.”

“They’d have fought to the death,” I said, “even the really strange ones.”

“They could be still alive,” said the princess. “We don’t know anything yet.”

“I hope so,” I replied, “but—”

“Jenny?”

I started. It was Tiger’s voice. Very faint, but unmistakable.

“I can hear Tiger’s voice now,” I said. “It must be a last shout from the astral plane before he passed to the other side or something.”

“I don’t think so,” said Addie, “because I can hear it too.”

It was the conch.

“Tiger?” I said after hurriedly removing the large shell from my bag. “Where are you?”

“Thank goodness,” he said in a relieved tone. “Shandar has finally stopped jamming the conchways, probably because he thinks we’re all dead. I’m in the basement of Zambini Towers along with the Quarkbeast, Mabel, the Mysterious X, and Monty Vanguard.”

I heard a quark in the background.

“Okay,” I said, “if it’s safe to do so, stay right there. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“We don’t really have a choice,” said Tiger. “We’re trapped. I think the building has collapsed above us.”

Tiger explained as much as he knew. Shandar had returned to the Kingdom of Snodd, and he had brought the trolls with him. He was clearly not worried about the dragon refund, because no one would be there to demand one. It seemed he had been biding his time all these years, remaining in stone for centuries until the moment was right to strike and strike hard. The previous four Troll Wars had not been wars at all, but a series of warm-ups, preparing the trolls for the ultimate invasion.

“Shandar targeted Kazam before the war began,” said Tiger. “Kevin Zipp was kidnapped so we couldn’t see it coming, and Kazam was hit first on the morning of the invasion. Feldspar came back from princess duty to rescue us, but could only carry away one at a time. Moobin was first. I don’t know if anyone else made it out.”

“Any idea why Shandar had me look for the Eye of Zoltar?”

“To get you out of the way, Lady Mawgon thought. You’ve bested him once before, and we think he’s actually quite frightened of you.”

“I’m going to make sure of that,” I said. “What about you guys?”

Tiger explained that there was ample food and water, as they were in the basement kitchens. He thought they were safe for the time being; they had heard trolls up above searching through the rubble, but the trolls had moved on. I told him to sit tight, to not use the conch in case Shandar decided to listen in, and that I’d organize a rescue party as soon as I could.

“At least we know Moobin is safe,” said Once Magnificent Boo. “We will need many people to retake the kingdoms.”

“I hate to be a downer,” I said, “but how are we going to retake the kingdoms? We are a vanquished nation without an army, weapons, and, at present, ideas.”

“We have hope,” said Addie, “and a sense of moral outrage and natural justice. We will retake the kingdoms, no matter what it takes.”

“I second that,” said Boo. “Dark Magic never triumphs. We will rally what sorcerers we can, and build up an army from scratch if we have to. We have my limited powers, your leadership, the princess as a figurehead, and Addie’s unique survival skills. Moobin is still around somewhere. And remember that we have the terrifying possibility of harnessing the awesome power of the Eye of Zoltar.”

We were silent for a moment. Things didn’t seem so bleak after all.

“Holy smoke,” came a voice behind us. “I feel like I’ve slept with a spare tire in my mouth.”

It was Colin. He had returned to normal, still strapped to the roof of the Volkswagen. That might have seemed unusual, but in the surrounding chaos, no one was paying any attention to us at all.

“Oh, yes,” said Once Magnificent Boo. “We also have two dragons.”

The Chronicles of Kazam will continue . . .