Damnation, Salvation, Fire and Steel

Part Two: Trolls in the Dark

2/4

Honkers spat viciously to the side, a great wad of phlegm flying from thick lips to splatter on a nearby rock. His huge bulk rumbled through the cave like a tank, one arm bent and a gigantic club resting on an iron-plated shoulder. Clothed in shredded leather and animal skins, Honkers was indeed a honking beast of a troll, standing at eight foot seven and weighing approximately four-hundred and eighty two pounds, all of that pure muscle and sinew.

Trolls were generally stupid, but this one took pride in at least not being the stupidest. That position was reserved for his twin, Shankers, whom he was currently looking for with not the least trace of irritation. Shankers had gotten lost in the caves again and Honkers, after being shrieked at by his mother after one of her mead binges, had decided to retrieve his idiot brother from wherever he was wandering.

"Stupid kin, must always lose self in caves," the huge troll grumbled, clenching his fist around the handle of his club. Oh how he would smack Shankers over the head with it when he found him. "Mumsy hate when Shankers missing, Mumsy take out on me. Damn him! No like being thumped."

Honkers knew the caves better than anyone, and he knew his brother better than anyone as well, so he didn't have too much trouble finding him. After all, where would an idiot like Shankers go in the midst of a war-preparation?

He turned a corner and came upon a giant, wooden gate that stood at least thirty feet high. He knew this place, and he knew Shankers would be there. Growling upon seeing the doors slightly ajar, the behemoth troll pushed them further open and stomped angrily into the hidden treasury that only he and his brother knew about.

Honkers thundered past piles of gold and gems, taking no heed of them as he went. He had little patience for sparkly things, unlike most trolls who loved to hoard it. His choice of lust was weapons; scythes, axes, cannons, swords…

Speaking of which, there his brother was. Sitting amongst a small pile of coins, gems, rubies and other such ilk, Shankers sat leaning forward, chin cupped in his hands. His eyes were locked on a sword that lay trapped within a large stone, a sword that had been there since what seemed to be forever.

Ever since they had found it, both Honkers and Shankers had desperately tried to remove it from the rock, to no avail. It was stuck in there as though the earth itself had a hold of it. Although neither of them had been able to remove it, Shankers never ceased his fascination. For hours and hours he would stare at the gleaming blade, talking to it and to himself. About what, Honkers didn't know or care.

At the moment he was too pissed off to care about all that much. Shankers didn't even turn when his brother approached, too engrossed in watching the sword that he only realized someone else was there when a big hand picked him up and hauled him around. When he saw Honkers, he smiled brightly, if not a little grossly.

"Brother come to talk to spirit-sword?" Shankers asked, grinning toothily.

"No, brother come to take stupid twin home," Honkers snapped back, whapping Shankers over the head angrily. "Mumsy drink again and wants Shankers in cave-home. Everyone getting ready for big fight. Mumsy not want Shankers involved."

The other troll pouted. If pouting is what it could be called. Although he and Honkers were twins, they didn't look all that much alike. Whereas Honkers was enormous and made of steely muscle, Shankers was a bit on the scrawny side. Thin arms, spidery legs and a face so droopy and hanging it looked like gravity had taken a good hold of his face and yanked. He was as dumb as he was ugly, and he was awfully ugly in comparison to fairies and other magic folk.

"Me no want go home," Shankers whined. "Spirit-sword say home is bad, bad." He covered his face with his hands and peeked through his fingers at Honkers, who scowled at him.

"Brother just come from home," he growled. "Home is good. Spirit-sword in your head, you talk to self too much." He dropped his brother and began pulling him away, but to his surprise Shankers resisted.

"NO!" The scrawny troll yelled, pulling back. "No good! Spirit-sword say home is gone! Bad things in the dark, bad things making home bad!"

"Idiot!" Honkers hit him over the head again. "Idiot talk to self, not to sword. Sword is stupid, twin is stupid. Do what brother says!"

"No!" Shankers ran to hide behind the rock, quivering. "Brother not see what spirit-sword show," he hissed, as Honkers stared at him in surprise and anger. "Spirit-sword not stupid, spirit-sword knows. Show Shankers the outside, show Shankers dark things coming. Not go back to cave-home! Too bad, too bad!"

"Idiot brother with toys in attic," Honkers growled. "Idiot brother come now!"

As Honkers began to walk around the stone in an attempt to grab his brother, a horn sounded. Both trolls raised their heads and stiffened; the Horn of Grushnik was sounding, roaring through the caverns and echoing off the walls in an eerie howl. The cave-home was under attack.

Honkers snarled, drawing his club. "Attack!" he said. "War come too soon, not ready!"

"Told brother!" Shankers whispered from behind the rock. When Honkers looked back at his brother, the smaller troll's eyes were wide and bulging from his head. "Told brother bad things come, told brother home is gone. Too late, too late! Should run!"

"Home not gone yet, stupid," Honkers said, approaching the other. "Still chance get there in time, still chance to thwack heads."

Shankers trembled. He glanced up at the sword, and his eyes got even bigger. Then, "No, no time. Close door, brother! Close door!" He leaped to his feet and pounded his fists on the rock. "Close door! Damn brother close door! Coming! Coming! Coming!"

Honkers took a step back. "Brother lost sense!" he yelled. But Shankers was already on the move, rushing toward the door and pushing it with all his might. Being weaker than Honkers he was having more trouble closing it. He grunted and yowled, punching the door.

"Close! Close! Close!"

The not-so-distant sound of running feet came to Honkers' ears, and he raised his head. His jaw clenched tightly and he moved to stand next to his brother, poking his head out the door. An axe came flying from the darkness to land solidly into the wood beside his head, and he jerked back.

"Dwarfs!"

"Brother help close door?" Shankers pleaded, pushing vainly on it. Honkers nodded; his ears were good and he had detected at least a hundred or more dwarves headed their way. He was no weakling but that was too many, and he had to protect his brother. Shankers the Idiot couldn't save his own hide even if he had a weapon and knew how to use it.

Together, the two trolls shoved the giant doors closed, and just in time, too. Dwarves on the other side began to hack and claw at it, shrieking obscenities in a language neither brother knew. They stepped back, and Shankers immediately ran to hide behind the sword again. Honkers scowled.

"Stupid brother scared of dwarfs," he grumbled.

"NOT scared of dwarfs!" Shankers protested hotly. "Scared of things riding dwarfs!"

As Honkers frowned and wondered about that, something extremely large and heavy smashed against the door. He whipped around as dust and stone fell from the ceiling, and the whatever-it-was on the other side howled in a bloodthirsty fury.

"Scared of that thing, too," Shankers whined from behind him, as the huge creature, or whatever it was, thumped against the doors again.

Honkers could only stare while large cracks split up the wood and dust continued to fall on them from above. He could honestly say that whatever this thing was, he was scared of it too.

"What do now?" he wondered aloud, mostly to himself.

"What do now?" Shankers repeated, as though it was the dumbest question he had ever heard in his entire life. "What do now is get hells out of here!"

For once, Honkers agreed with his twin.

Captain James Hook had never, in his life, seen such a strange spectacle. And he had seen many strange things since he had come to Never Land. From the ghost of his dead brother to seeing his greatest enemy age to that of an older man than he, then regress again to become a troublesome child. Not much surprised Hook anymore, but this was just plain weird.

The sky itself had turned a pitch black, to the point where it was no longer visible. Miles of endless darkness rolled each and every way, and it was as though he was looking into an abyss that had no bottom. Purple twisters reached down to the earth, spinning this way and that, sucking up everything in sight and pulling it into their clutches. It was a miracle the ship had not been touched by them yet, although Hook didn't believe in miracles.

Hundreds of voices had risen in a keening howl, low but insistent, and it gave him the creeps. The water had turned a deep red, and frothed against the ship's hull where the bodies of dead mermaids bumped and floated. The fish had seemingly lost their minds as well, floundering and leaping into the air in a wild frenzy until there wasn't a calm spot anywhere in sight. And all over the island, birds were spinning about in huge flocks, mindlessly flying in one direction and then zipping off in another.

All this and the fact that Peter still hadn't awakened were driving Hook to the brink of madness. No explanations as to just what the hell it was that was going on, and his enemy at the tip of his hook yet untouchable. The Jolly Roger's captain was angry, and everyone in the vicinity knew it.

"Gall and brimstone!" he roared suddenly, spinning around to stab his metal appendage at Nibs, who was sitting by Peter. The boy jumped in surprise as Hook stomped toward him, towering over the Lost Boy with a visage of fury that could have curdled milk. "Boy, why hasn't the slubberdegullion awakened yet?"

Nibs tensed up. "I don't know!" he snapped back. "He's hurt, give him time to rest!"

"The lad's right, Cap'n," said Smee. "Give 'im an hour at best and he should be coming back ta us soon enough."

"He had better, Smee, for I have not the patience to wait upon this bilge rat."

"Let me alone…"

Both the captain and bosun looked down at those uttered words. Peter was turning his head from side to side, open eyes staring blankly into nothing. His body shivered as though he was cold, a trembling that grew with every passing second. Hook sneered.

"So, the wretched brat awakens," he said. Then he frowned. Peter's eyes were blank, as one who remained in unconsciousness. "Perhaps not," the captain mused, narrowing his eyes.

"…who are you?"

Smee blinked. "Ye know me, I'm bosun Smee!" he told Peter.

Hook very nearly rolled his eyes. "I highly doubt he was addressing you, Smee."

Nibs shook Peter gently; his face set in a mask of worry. "Peter? Peter, wake up."

Peter's head turned again, and his face frowned. "Who are you?" he asked again. He seemed to be fighting to move, but there was nothing restraining him. Nibs and Hook both frowned, and Smee scratched his head.

"Begorrah, something strange sure is happenin'," he said.

"Not as strange as whatever runs through your mind at times, Smee," Hook growled. "It seems that Pan talks in his sleep." His eyes went to Nibs, narrowed and suspicious. "Does he often do this?"

Nibs shook his head. "No…he doesn't." He left out that sometimes Peter cried in his sleep, but that was neither here nor there. Nibs told the truth and he would say no more on it. He shook Peter again, gently as before. "Peter? Peter, wake up! It's me, Nibs."

For his part, the Eternal Youth continued to mumble to himself. His face grew angry, then afraid, and all of the sudden he hissed out, "No…no! Slightly, look out…the birds!"

Nibs blinked. "Peter, Slightly's not here…we were looking for him!" He shook the boy again, harder this time. "You have to wake up now, Peter! It's just a dream!" He held it back, but Nibs was becoming frightened. What was going on? Who did Peter think he was talking to? And what was this about Slightly?

"What cozening is this?" Hook demanded. He bent down to take a closer look at Peter, and scowled ferociously. "You will awaken from your dream, Pan, or I will have your Lost Boy's guts for garters!"

"You…you…what have you done?!" Peter's voice abruptly rose, and his body went through a sudden jerk. "What happened to him?! I order you to tell me!"

"I have done nothing yet, but if this nonsense does not come to an end soon I will," Hook muttered. "But to whom does he speak?"

Smee scratched his head. "Mayhap he be talkin' to invisible ghosties, Cap'n?"

"Smee, you clabberdungeon lummox!"

Mullins peered around Hook's shoulder, scowling. "Wouldn't surprise me if it were demons and shady spirits," he growled. "The boy's jabberin' at himself as like he was talkin' to something dark. I tell yous, this whole night's goin' to hell and we ain't walking out of the pits 'til whatever's behind it all's through with us!"

"No! Stop it! Leave them alone!" Peter's voice broke through, desperate and angry. The pirates and Nibs all looked down at him in confusion as the boy began tossing his head, face twisted into fury. "How dare you! Leave my friends alone!"

"Spirits and ghouls," Mullins hissed. "There's evil in it."

"I daresay something strange is going on, whether or not it is your rather familiar theory about it being demons," Starkey sniffed. Truth be told, Pan's cries were beginning to freak him out a bit. What was it that was haunting the boy, if there was anything at all? Starkey shivered.

"I'm not likin' this, Captain," Mason grumbled from Hook's other side. "First the mermaids, then Pan dropping harder than a rock, and now this. I'm not keen on seeing what happens next."

"Enough!" Hook shouted, raising his hand. He turned suddenly and caught Nibs up by his shirt, lifting him to dangle the boy in front of his face. "You! Where is Miss Tinkerbell?"

Nibs blinked, surprised at being grabbed so suddenly and the strangeness of the question. "I…I'm not sure where she is," he replied guardedly. "She went to the fairy court a few hours ago, and said she would probably be back home by now."

"Then you wouldn't mind fetching the pixie for me," Hook sneered. "Perhaps she can provide us with some answers to this most tiring riddle, as we all seem to be lacking in such."

"I'm not leaving Peter here alone with you!" Nibs snapped.

"You were not given a choice, you sniveling brat," Hook snapped right back. "Pan will be among the living when you return, provided you return quickly and my patience does not wear out. If either of you wish to see another dawn, I would suggest you get off my ship and bring the pint-sized pixie back here before another hour passes. Otherwise," he sneered again. "You and your precious Pan will be sleeping in Davey Jones' locker on the morrow."

He dropped Nibs to the deck without the least trace of gentleness, and the boy immediately took to the air, scowling at him. "Fine, but if anything happens to Peter you'll pay!" he told Hook angrily.

The pirate captain laughed. "You need not worry, boy, for my hook will stay its vengeance until another time."

Casting one last feral look back at the captain, silently promising death should he do anything to Peter, Nibs bit his lip and flew away, heading back towards the island as fast as he could.

'Ah, Tink, I hope you're home by now…Peter needs you!'

"You eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeediot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What in de name of Aphrodite's ass crack were you tiiiiiinking?!"

A brief flash of black light and a roll of thunder without sound later, and a twisted little brownie-thing lay sprawled on cold stone, blood and other gore seeping from a chunk taken out of his skull. Demented-looking creatures leapt back into the shadows, squealing amongst themselves as they stared at their fallen comrade before their eyes moved to the one who had killed him.

Black hair thrown back in wild spikes and flesh as gray as a corpse, the Master's head servant hovered over the dead body of the brownie, arms crossed firmly over his chest. Amber eyes with flecks of red in them blazed as they cruised over the assembled horde of possessed creatures; lips pulled back to flash white fangs into the darkness.

"That eeeeediot," he grated in a voice that sounded like shifting gravel, "deserved what he got. And if any of you follow eez example, I shall do that an worse!" His audience swarmed about nervously, chattering at each other in hushed voices. The fairy growled; they fell silent almost instantly. "Now, tell me of what it eez that you have founded."

Bodies scraped together for a moment, and then a tiny gray mouse wearing an equally tiny sombrero hopped into the light. It sat up, toes twitching as it adjusted its frayed red vest and fiddled with the tiny gold buttons on the front. The fairy glared at it. The mouse twitched its whiskers.

"Abura my sir, we founds a empty tree! A empty tree with baby mans in it, my sir!" It spread its paws wide, its voice rising in excitement as the fairy didn't seem about ready to kill it yet. Rather, he only lifted one elegant eyebrow and continued to stare at the mouse. "Big-big tree with baby mans, and baby girl-man! Were't not what my sir looked for?" it asked hopefully, unable to quite remember if that really was what he had been looking for, or if it had flubbed the job again. Small brains often had small memory.

The fairy, Abura, curled his lip nastily. "Speetz, do you know if these," he coughed delicately, "'baby-mans' are Peter Pan's Lost Children?"

The mouse nodded so hard its sombrero almost fell off; as it was, it had to push the offending hat back up off his nose so he could see his master. "Yes my sir, oh yes! Am sure the Losted Baby-Mans are Pan-belonged. Baby girl-man talked of Pan, my sir, it did! Speetz saw it with own two eyes."

"Yay." Abura sneered.

"Yay, my sir?" Speetz meeped happily, quivering now with delight at the seeming pleasure the fairy was expressing. "Speetz did good-good, my sir?"

Ignoring the mouse now, the fairy turned to the rest of the horde. "You will go," he said. "Find de children, and bring them here, to me. De Lord, he wants them alive if de lot of you can handle that. Speetz will show you de way, if eez small brain remembers," he told them, one eyeball rolling about to give the mouse a rather nasty look. "If he forget, eat him."

The mouse squeaked nervously, glancing around at its companions and realizing that once the idea had been put into their heads it wasn't going to go away. They gnashed their teeth viciously, practically slobbering as Speetz cowered down, shuffling back into their midst. "Speetz not fail, my sir," it whispered hoarsely. It then swiftly scampered away, and the horde followed.

"Da, I am surrounded by eediots," Abura muttered to himself, running his fingers across his forehead once they were gone. Fluttering his wings irritably, he flew to sit on a large stone near a pool of inky black water. Staring at his reflection in the murky pool, he pinched his nose and tugged on a long lock of hair. "Ai, de Lord will like Speetz if he can pull this off, he will!" he tittered at his reflection.

Then his eyes narrowed. "Da! Steeeeeuuuuuupid greedy boy! Can't keep eez hands off de magic, oh no. He must take-take-take and leave nutting behind!!!!!!!" His eyes flashed darkly before a giggle escaped his throat. "Ai! But we can slow eez greedy fingers, can't we, pup? Yes, we can I think."

Sticking his toe into the water, Abura began making circle patterns. Tiny sparks of light danced on the dark surface as a light mist rose up. "Da, eez time for a leetle conflict, eh?" He stabbed one toe into the water, causing a chain of ripples to mar the surface. "Will see de free ones bite Lord Saxon's ass, we will. Icky, Icky, Icky, Icky… Time to get to work, old friend. Time to get to work. Icky, Icky, Icky, Icky…"

A low growl sounded behind him. "If your precious Lord Saxon heard you saying that you would be dead, Abura. And so would I, if he heard my name and got his hands on me."

The fairy smiled, baring his fangs as he continued to stare into the water. He didn't look up as a large figure approached him from behind, standing over his tiny form like a great beast. Pointed ears twitched, and clawed paws flexed as they rested on gray-furred hips. Abura continued to smile, not once looking up. What he didn't see could not be torn out of him later. "Da, jiinhyou Icky."

"Jiinhyou de, Abura. What do you want?"

"I want de world, kibun. You know that."

A snort followed that. "Yes, but what do you want from me right now? I can't stay long, you know. If Saxon finds me here he'll kill me. Or enslave me, both of which I am not keen on."

"Da, it eez a sad ting, na?" Abura chuckled darkly. "No, I have another purpose for you." He tapped his feet on the water, smiling as images sprang up. Icky leaned over him to look; an eyebrow flew up at what she saw. "That eez your purpose."

"You have got to be kidding me. Abura, you know I hate humans!" She leaned back, a snarl wrinkling her face. "I won't do it."

"All you have to do eez get them into de Were-Forest," the fairy soothed. "From there, you can leave them at any time dat you please. By then I will have others coming to take up care from there on."

Icky blinked. "Eh…the Were-Forest? Abura, you do know that the Were-Forest is home to the Were-Trees. They eat flesh."

"Da, Icky, I know." The fairy smirked. "And that eez why I want them there."

She sighed, scratching behind one ear. "I don't get you, fairy. I really don't."

"You do not need to, pup. Get de job done right and you will see why it eez I would have it this way. Now, go fetch."