herself on an outcropping of rock and adjusted her skirt—Northward.
"I concede that women," spluttered the general, "have their place in activities of the military—but that place has little or nothing to do with warfare as such! I demand that you make yourself known—where did you come from?"
"Weh did I come from?" she asked mockingly. "Weh, he wansa know. Lookit dat!" She pointed one of her bright-glazed fingernails at the rocky floor of the cave, which grew liquid in a moment, glowing cherry-red. She leered at the two and spat at the floor. It grew cold in another moment. "Don't dat mean nothin' to youse?" she asked.
The general stared at the floor, "You must be a volcano nymph."
"Good fa you, shorty!" she sneered. "I represent da goils from Local toity-tree. In brief, chums, our demands are dese: one, dat youse clear away, from our union hall pronto; two, dat youse hang around in easy reach—in case we want youse fa poiposes of our own. In retoin fe dese demands we—flats me an' de goils—will help youse guys out against Almarish. Dat lousy fink don't give his hands time off no more. Dis place might as well be a goddam desert fa all de men around. Get me?"
"These—ah—purposes of your own in clause two," said the general hesitantly. "What would they be?"
She smiled dirtily and half-closed her eyes. "Escort soivice, ya mightcan it. Nuttin' harmful ta yer men, cap. We'll probably get tired of dem in a munt' or two and send dem off safe. You trolls are kinda cute."
The general stared, too horrified even to resent being called "cap."
"Well?" demanded the nymph.
"Well—yes," said the general.
"Okay, shorty," she said, crushing out her cigaret against her palm. "Da goils'l be aromT at dawn fa de attack. I'll try ta keep 'em off yer army until de battle's over. So long!" She sank into the earth, leaving behind only a smell of fleur-de-floozy perfume.
"God!" whispered General Skald-berg. "The things I do for the army!"
In irregular open formation
the trolls advanced, followed
closely by the jeering mob of volcano
nymphs.
"How about it, General?" asked Peter. He and the old soldier were surveying the field of battle from a hill in advance of their forces; the hideous octopoid forms of the defenders of Almarish could be plainly seen, lumbering onward to meet the trolls with a peculiar sucking gait.
"Any minute now—any second," said Skaldberg. Then, "Here it comes!" The farthest advanced of the trolls had met with the first of the Krakens. The creature lashed out viciously; Peter saw that its tentacles had been fitted with studded bands and other murderous devices. The troll dodged nimbly and pulled an invincible sword on the octopoid myth. They mixed it; when the struggle went behind an outcropping of rock the troll was in the lead, unharmed, while the slow-moving Kraken was leaking thinly from a score of punctures.
"The dragons," said Peter, pointing. "Here they are." In V formation the monsters were landing on a far end of the battlefield, then coming at a scrabbling run.
"If they make it quicker than the nymphs—" breathed the general Then he sighed relievedly. They
