Elliot and the Last Underworld War (7 page)

“We’re good at light,” Fidget said, fluttering to the front of the crowd. “But nobody knows where Kovol will go next. We can’t build a light dome over the whole Underworld.”

A Dwarf stepped forward. “The Shadow Men could grab us before our short arms will ever reach them. But we can build defenses for others to use in their fights.”

The Troll with the finger up his nose ambled forward as if he wanted to say something. But then he blinked as if his finger had pushed into his brain, and he stepped back into place.

Don’t worry about his brain, Dear Reader. He’ll barely notice a difference.

“Anyone else?” Elliot asked.

A large bird that had been in the air landed on the ground, spun around, and turned into a human boy Elliot recognized. This was his friend Harold, a Shapeshifter who had helped save Elliot on the night he woke up Kovol.

“You know my strengths,” Harold said. “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

“And me,” said a Centaur in the back of the crowd.

“And me,” added a Mermaid from the river.

“Okay.” Elliot looked around. His mind raced as he looked the crowd over. He started with the Fairies. “We need everyone we can get on our side. Will you gather as many creatures as you can? Tell them we must fight together, or we’ll each face the collapse of the Underworld alone.”

The Fairies nodded, then vanished. Elliot next turned to Fudd. “You’ve worked with the Goblins once before. If anyone can convince them to help us, it’s you.”

“The Goblins only promised not to hurt us,” Fudd said. “But they won’t help us unless their leader, Grissel, agrees. And he’s still in our Brownie prison, having to eat that horrible chocolate cake.” He shivered just thinking of it.

“No more chocolate cake,” Elliot said. “Bring him the biggest jar of pickles you can find, and tell him I want his help. He still has to promise not to hurt the Brownies, but there’s nobody as good at blowing things up as Grissel.”

Fudd dipped his head at his king. “Yes, Your Highness.” Then he poofed away.

Harold stepped forward. “And what about me? Can I help?”

Elliot took a deep breath, then nodded at the Shapeshifter. “I need you for one of the biggest jobs of all. I need you to turn into me again and let Kovol see you down here. When he does, he’ll chase you. If he gets too close, change into a butterfly, or a bumblebee, or something he won’t suspect and can’t catch. Keep him confused but busy and distracted. And whatever you do, keep him far, far away from Demon Territory. Can you do that?”

Harold paled a little, as if he were already shapeshifting into a white snowman. Then slowly he returned to his normal color. He swallowed hard, then nodded. With a squeak, he said, “I thought you’d ask me to bring chips and dip for the battle, or do something simple. But I said I would help, and I will.”

He closed his eyes and shapeshifted into a bird again. Before he flew off, he tweeted back to Elliot, “If I don’t come back, make sure to tell the love of my life, the beautiful Cami Wortson, that I was a hero.”

“Of course you’ll come back,” Elliot said. “And for the last time, she’s not the love of your life!”

When Harold had flown away, Mr. Willimaker stepped forward from the crowd and asked, “What good will it do to send Kovol away from Demon Territory? None of us are there, so neither is he. We have to defend our homes out here instead.”

Elliot smiled. “We’re not going to defend ourselves from Kovol. We’re going to attack.”

Dear Reader, at one time or another, you have probably played a sport such as tennis or basketball, or Limburger soccer. (It’s pretty much the same as regular soccer, except that you kick around a chunk of stinky Limburger cheese instead of a ball. The only downside is that it smells so bad, nobody really wants to get anywhere near it.) If you have, then you know it’s very important to have a strong defense, or the other team will score points and win the game. But it’s even more important to have a good offense, or plan of attack. Because if you don’t, you’ll never earn any points for your team. A defense only stops you from losing. To win, you have to attack.

And Elliot understood this. His family had played an exciting game of Limburger soccer only one week before. His twin brothers had won the game, in part because they didn’t mind bad smells. And also because they cheated.

The rest of the mythical creatures didn’t understand the reasons for attacking Kovol quite as well as Elliot did. (Limburger cheese is very hard to find in the Underworld—and that’s a good thing.)

When Elliot announced his plan to the group, everyone got very quiet. The Troll in the back did jump up and say “Yay!” but Elliot soon realized it was because he had finally found what he’d been reaching for in his nose, not because he liked the idea of attacking Kovol.

“Why would we go to Demon Territory?” a Fairy asked. “That’s Kovol’s land.”

“Exactly,” Elliot said. “If we fight him in our own lands, then he will destroy them. But if we can beat him in Demon Territory, then we’ll win this war.”

“If Kovol catches us in his territory, he can make us his prisoner,” an Elf said.

“I doubt that, because he’s not a king,” Elliot said. “And besides, he won’t know we’re there until we’re already winning.”

The moans continued, but Elliot said, “Everyone go home and gather the rest of your kind. Come as soon as you can to Demon Territory.”

There were a handful of grumbles, at least twenty-two growls, and one rather high-pitched whine. But they had chosen Elliot to lead this war and intended to obey him. One by one the various groups poofed themselves away.

Except for the Elves. They waited until everyone had left before one came forward. He was a tall and handsome Elf with long white hair that fell like silk down his back.

“I am Slimmy Tojam,” he said.

Elliot blinked. Had that elf just said he had slimy toe jam? If a Dwarf or a Troll or a Goblin had said that, then he could understand. But he wouldn’t have thought any type of slime would be a problem for an Elf.

“You’re slimy?” Elliot asked.

“It’s Slimmy. Like Timmy or Jimmy. And it’s my name, not a description of my feet.”

“Toe Jam?”

The elf looked annoyed. “Tojam. Not ‘jam,’ like one spreads on toast, but ‘jum,’ that rhymes with ‘come.’”

The fact that his name sounded like foot fungus made Elliot giggle. However, Mr. Tojam was a very serious-looking Elf and didn’t seem to think his name was nearly as funny as Elliot did. So Elliot apologized. He hadn’t meant to be rude. It’s what he really thought the Elf had said.

“I am a teacher among the Elves,” Mr. Tojam said.

Elliot wondered what the kids at his school would say if someone named Slimy Toe Jam started teaching there. They once had a teacher whose name was Mrs. Popzitt. She left after only three weeks to teach on an island where the natives all spoke in sign language, and she hadn’t been seen since. Nobody blamed her for leaving.

“You’ve been thinking about my name for a long time,” Mr. Tojam said. “Can we move on?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

Mr. Tojam held up a book for Elliot to see. It looked very old and dusty, and the pages were wrinkled. “Now, what do you know about Kovol?”

Elliot shrugged. “I know he’s the most evil Demon of all time. I know that a thousand years ago, in the first Underworld War, a wizard named Minthred cast a spell that put Kovol to sleep.” Elliot also knew from having once been very close to Kovol’s wide-open mouth that he had really bad breath. Or maybe that was only Kovol’s morning breath. Probably not worth mentioning.

“The Elves believe the only way to defeat Kovol now is to understand how he was defeated the first time.” Mr. Tojam held out his arm, inviting Elliot to walk with him. “Is there a private place we can talk?”

Elliot glanced over at Mr. Willimaker, who suggested they return to Burrow Cave. Then Patches reminded her father that Elliot could only barely sit up in the cave, and Mr. Tojam was even taller than him.

“Allow me.” Mr. Tojam touched Elliot on his shoulder and then closed his eyes. Elliot felt the tug on his gut poofing him away, but the Elf was a much better poofer than either the Brownies or the Pixies, and Elliot barely felt a thing. They arrived on a thick tree branch very high above the ground, but Elliot was so comfortable in that spot that he didn’t worry a bit about falling. Besides, he had much bigger worries on his mind. Such as accidentally calling Mr. Tojam by the wrong name again. Or the end of the world, for example.

Mr. Tojam handed Elliot the book and opened it to the first page. It was an old and faded drawing of Kovol as he would have looked a thousand years ago. Sure enough, he had a full head of Demon hair. No wonder he had been upset when Elliot pulled out the last hair, making him bald. But as everyone knows, baldness is just one of the risks when taking thousand-year naps. Also, your favorite show might not be on television anymore (if television even exists still!).

In the picture, Kovol was facing an army of mythical creatures that were not too different from those Elliot had just spoken to. In fact, right at the front was a Brownie who looked a lot like Mr. Willimaker. Elliot knew Mr. Willimaker’s great-grandfather had fought Kovol before. He wondered if the Brownie in the picture was him.

“It was a terrible war,” Mr. Tojam said. “Nobody had ever faced a creature such as this, and nobody had any idea of what to do.”

“What made Kovol so much worse than any other Demon?” Elliot asked. “And why is he the last of them?”

“That was Kovol’s plan,” Mr. Tojam said. “All Demons have a certain amount of bad inside, but it had never been difficult for any of the good creatures to keep control of them. One day Kovol got into a fight with another Demon about who would get the last slice of dessert.”

“Seems harmless enough.” Elliot and his brothers often fought for that same reason. Unless Wendy had cooked it. Then they fought over who would have to choke it down and not hurt her feelings.

Mr. Tojam shook his head. “It should have been harmless, except that the other Demon ate the dessert first. In a rage, Kovol then picked up the Demon and ate him.”

“Eww.” There had not been a single fight in Elliot’s home in which he had ever considered eating his brothers. Seriously. Not even once.

“As soon as Kovol ate him, he realized that he had taken the Demon’s powers into his own body. In that moment, Kovol became stronger. And far more greedy. He wanted more and more power, and so he continued eating others of his own kind. With each meal, he grew stronger and more wicked. One by one, he destroyed every other Demon of the Underworld. Until he was the last.”

As he spoke, Mr. Tojam turned the pages of the book, each picture showing Kovol becoming larger and stronger. Then he turned the page again, which showed Kovol in front of a wall of black fire.

“Kovol then turned his eyes upon the rest of the Underworld,” Mr. Tojam continued. “For although he had the strength of all the Demons, he did not have the power of other magical creatures. Not the wisdom of the Fairies, or the grit of the Dwarves, or any of the special gifts the rest of the Underworld creatures have. So began the first war of the Underworld.”

“You had to fight it,” Elliot whispered. “Because he wouldn’t stop until everyone was destroyed.”

“But Kovol needed an army.” Mr. Tojam tapped the picture again. “He couldn’t have an army of living creatures, because he knew he’d end up eating them too, to take their power. So he cursed the fire, and from it came the Shadow Men. They are nothing but smoke and flame, and they have no thought other than to obey Kovol’s will.”