SHORT STORY | HORROR | FANTASY | SUSPENSE | ACTION

The Final Stand at the Rainbow Bridge

A story of unending courage and a million heroes. How to Slay the Trolls Under the Rainbow Bridge, Part 2.

Several stories under the Rainbow Bridge, in the midst of the thick forest, Troll Lake gleamed in the sunset. Waves gently rolled across the surface of the huge lake as the summer breeze blew into the valley.

The bridge above bustled with pets and their recently passed guardians as they hiked the misty bridge toward Heaven. The meadow overlooking the valley teemed with herds of different animals, all former pets, and all waiting for their turn to walk the rainbow.

Dogs of all sorts and sizes, cats of all colors, rabbits, turtles, donkeys, horses, lizards, alpacas, and more. All enjoying their time in the meadow until their guardians joined them.

None of these happy souls noticed the bubble rising from the depths of the dark water, popping to the surface of the lake, bobbing along the rippling water. Before it could reach the grassy shore, dozens of more bubbles surfaced. Before those could reach the shore, hundreds more rose from the depths. The water gurgled with bubbles bouncing on the surface.

Each bubble contained a single goblin the size of a house cat and burst as it crashed against the shore. The bubble passengers crawled their way up the shore and scurried to the nearby leaf-littered forest floor.

Under the cover of the trees, the goblins broke into dozens of teams and starting digging. Hole after hole appeared, with loosened soil flying out of each one. Many of the grotesque little creatures worked together shuttling the piles of loose dirt away from the dig zone.

The goblins could see well enough in the dark with their yellow eyes and as the diggers tired, they switched places with the goblins on the surface. The holes — dug at an angle to the leafy forest floor — reached ever deeper. As the holes lengthened into tunnels, legions of goblins moved the dirt to the surface so the diggers could keep digging.

Far from the trees above, far below the tree roots, many of the goblin diggers began falling through the bottom of the tube-like tunnels. Though they didn’t fall far. Goblins diggers from far below had been excavating up from the main tunnel and, halfway to the surface, the up-diggers and down-diggers met.

Having connected tunnels, the goblins went to work widening the passageways. The army of goblins worked with a fury. Many pairs of tunnels merged together to form larger shafts. They would be needed.

From deep below, an unparalleled stench rose through the tunnels. Even the goblins, no stranger to horrid smells, scrambled to the surface, knowing the source of the malodor.

As the goblins scurried up, below them the earth began to shake as dozens of ogres squeezed into the shafts to ascend, clawing at the tunnel walls as needed to fit their slimy mass through.

The ogres barreled through the long shafts, bursting through the forest floor into the dark night. Then they turned toward the Rainbow Bridge.

The animals, scattered all over the huge meadow, slept peacefully in the cozy grass. The constant rushing sound of the Forest River provided the nightly lullaby, masking other sounds.

Bella, a large Great Pyrennes, jerked awake to the mad baying of scent hounds in the moonlit meadow. The canary that normally slept nestled on Bella’s neck, squawked and launched into the air above Bella’s head. Bloodhounds, Bassets, and beagles yelped their warnings across the open field. Suddenly, Bella smelled the wretched stink as well. In all of her life before the meadow, she had never smelled anything so foul.

She stood and peered around in the moonlit night. The meadow appeared to be only animals, most stirring now because of the din and the stench.

The forest. The horrid smell appeared to be coming from the trees near the bridge. Bella turned toward the valley. In the moonlight, the misty Rainbow Bridge, high over those trees, shimmered.

Then, as she watched, the bridge jerked as if had been rammed by a herd of mammoths. Then, again. But harder this time.

Bella screamed.

“The bridge!”

The heads in the meadow turned toward the sacred bridge. And, as if on cue, it shook again so violently that, in the light of the moon, the animals could clearly see parts of the bridge flying off.

All of the animals of the meadow knew the legend of the Battle of the Trolls. Some still there bore witness that day. Those elders led the way, taking off as if shot out of a cannon, directly at the bridge.

“Let’s go!” yelled Bella as she bounded forward, right behind the first wave. The vast herd of pets was already stampeding to defend the rainbow. Some stumbled in the rush but righted themselves and took off running again.

The birds — parrots, cockatiels, parakeets, finches, ducks, and more — took flight. And it was they that first saw the shadows emerging from the thick woods down in the valley near the base of the bridge.

An army of hellhounds poured out of the tunnels, following the slimy, widened path left by the ogres. Their red eyes glowed bright beneath the trees. As the ogres lumbered toward the Rainbow Bridge, the hellhounds, with the goblins trailing behind, sprinted through the woods, right for the meadow and the slumbering animals.

As large as wolves, with rippling muscles, short, black, lathered fur, and oversized, sharp canine teeth. And the eyes. The red glowing eyes. They ripped through the trees, as quietly as possible at first, but they burst out of the cover of the trees and realized that the birds had spotted them…

The black shadows erupting from the forest suddenly let loose terrifying howls that the meadow animals first felt as if a lightning strike ripped through them. Then the sound reached them, like death blasting their ears.

A large swath of the meadow animals kept barreling to the bridge while the rest veered slightly to the left to confront these black demons.

The horde of hellhounds raced up the valley slope at incredible speeds.

Bella’s friend, Beatrix, the Catahoula, frantically ran beside Bella toward the oncoming terror. Halfway up the valley’s incline, the two armies met in a fierce head-on collision. Hellhounds ripped at the animals with fangs and claws. Animals were flipped into the air and others were trampled.

Bella’s size helped and she was able to knock several of the hell-beasts to the ground where they were stampeded by other beasts and the meadow horses. Beatrix used her quickness and frantic energy to bite the legs of as many of the demons as she could reach.

But the hellhounds had unmatched strength and viciousness. Three of them surrounded Bella, who desperately looked for the smallest gap to escape the snarling, red-eyed horrors.

One of them leaped toward her with lips curled over its fangs. Only inches from the Great Pyr’s neck, her canary friend dove at its face, and suddenly the beast recoiled, yelping and backing away, shaking its head in frustrated fury.

Bella looked up to see bird after bird attacking the glowing eyes of the hellhounds with beak and claw. Feathers floated in the air like snow as the beasts snapped at this new threat. As one of the beasts left the fray, three more entered. And when the goblins finally caught up to the battle, they attacked like rabid monkeys.

Beatrix was savagely bitten and tossed aside in a heap. Horses fell. Donkeys, pit bulls, poodles, cats, and Great Danes. All fell to the fury and might of the hellhounds.

At the Rainbow Bridge, the ogres, twice as large as trolls with half the brains, worked together in a line to pull the foundation of the bridge apart. Angels had strengthened its structure after the Battle of the Trolls, but the ogres had arms and legs of insanely thick, steely muscle. And their enormous bellies gave them a meaty layer of cushioning.

As the meadow army reached them and attacked, the ogres barely noticed. They kept pushing and pulling the bridge with all of their massive strength. The ogres had approached the bridge near its entrance and stood on the forest side, gripping the top railing and deck — pulling, pulling, pulling.

Many of the animals bolted to the bridge surface and bit at the tree trunk sized fingers wrapped around the railing. The ogres seem to feel nothing. On occasion a finger would come loose and flick an unsuspecting meadow warrior, knocking the animal clear off the other side of the bridge. And every so often, one would lift his leg and stomp an animal flat. And the ogre would go right back to shaking the rainbow in a blind fury.

No matter how vicious the animals’ attack was, the ogres single-mindedly focused on the bridge. And the bridge finally began to give way. The railing ripped off and the entrance to the bridge pulled loose from its foundations. Misty pastel bits filled the dawn sky.

At the tunnels, a lone figure slowly crawled out into the fresh air for the first time in uncountable ages. Trapped underground in hellish pits, finally, the time for revenge had arrived. Where his trolls failed, his ogres, goblins, and hellhounds would prevail. He spread his long-unused wings wide. They looked like enormous bat wings, veiny and leathery. He jumped off the ground and his wings gave several mighty flaps, rocketing him up above the battle. The fallen angel had returned.

Feeling defenseless against the ogres, hellhounds, and goblins, the exhausted and injured makeshift army on both battlefronts fought on. Too many to count fell. And with one more mighty pull in unison, the ogres yanked the entrance to the Rainbow Bridge apart.

For a moment the fighting stopped as the creeping daylight allowed a clearer view of the heartbreaking destruction. The bridge seemed to bleed pastel colors all over the ground and sky.

And, then, as many of the stunned animals watched the rainbow mist dissipate in the air above them, a short distance away, above the forest trees, a black figure — dirty, yet powerful looking — rose above the pastel mist on leathery wings twice the width of a condor’s.

Even the ogres, seemingly mindless of all else, looked up in reverence at the fallen angel. He turned his head to look at the rest of the Rainbow Bridge, turned back to the battle, and with a flick of his left hand toward the ogres, he screamed in a voice that rained down fear on the meadow warriors.

“BRING THE WHOLE DAMNED THING DOWN,” he thundered.

And a flick of his right hand at the hellhounds and goblins.

“KILL THEM ALL.”

More parts of the bridge were pulled away, and the hellhounds and goblins, in almost a hypnotic rage, attacked.

The animals stood no chance.

The fallen angel watched the slaughter with a passion bordering on pure joy.

As the sun rose, a muted, faraway sound materialized, almost imperceptible at first. Slowly it gained volume above the horrific din of battle. Coming from the other end of the bridge.

The heaven end of the Rainbow Bridge.

Another lone figure with a great wingspan, blowing his ancient horn, burst out of the cloud cover where the bridge disappeared from view. The archangel blew the horn as if he wanted the sound to travel across the world. And with his mighty wings, he flew straight toward the fallen angel.

The dark angel rose quickly and the archangel gave chase. They flew ever higher until they rose above the clouds and out of sight. But the animals could still hear the horn as it blew one more time.

The ogres still carried out their orders, tearing apart the bridge and occasionally, picking up and tossing an animal at the forest as if tossing a twig.

But now the bridge began shaking even more violently. The horn blew from the heavens above once more and suddenly, at the far of the bridge, animals darted through the cloud. A few at first, then the entire width of the huge bridge became covered with pets of all sorts. Former meadow dwellers, now heaven dwellers, summoned to save the bridge they loved.

Legions and legions of animals swarmed the bridge, with birds flying above. They hurtled down the span of the bridge, following the archangel into the heart of the battle.

As the bridge travelers sprinted, the sun finally rose over the trees. As it inched higher, the sun’s rays hit the hellhound battlefield. Goblins screeched in terror and began to clumsily run back toward the trees. As the sunshine touched goblin after goblin, they turned to stone with no sound at all. A few made it back to the trees and eventually back into the tunnels, but goblin rubble littered the valley from the battlefield to the treeline.

Still, the hellhounds ripped and tore in their crazed fury. Bella, with barely the energy left to stand, blood on her white fur having turned her mostly red, hovered over Beatrix’s limp body. Yet she turned to face the beasts still.

The front edge of the unceasing herd returning down the bridge reached the damaged section and with no hesitation pounced over the side to land on the ogres. They landed on their heads, shoulders, faces, arms. Anywhere that claws could get a foothold. Even as the animals savagely shredded the ogres, the monsters simply shook most of them off, crushed many, stomped more.

And then turned back to the bridge. Their focus remained locked on destroying the bridge to heaven.

But the animals kept attacking them in an endless stream. Generations of animals that had once crossed the bridge with their guardians, hundreds and hundreds of thousands. Hundreds more leaped over the wreckage to join the fight against the hellhounds.

High overhead, above the fray, a small gray dot popped out of the cloud, dropping fast, quickly followed by a large winged body. The birds, once again, saw them first and yelled a warning. The animals looked up, deathly afraid that the archangel was dead and falling. The body dropped rapidly and they saw the smaller dot getting larger. The head landed with a wet splat between the ogres and the hellhounds. The body of the fallen angel smacked the battlefield a few yards from his head.

The archangel dived down out of the clouds, his horn around his neck, his bloody sword in his hand.

The hellhounds stopped fighting, many shaking their head as if coming out of a trance. Their eyes stopped glowing and the red color transformed to blue. The implanted rage fueled by the fallen angel died with him.

The archangel sent out a message to all of the animals.

Throw the ogres into the lake. End it.

Immediately, the hellhounds as one jumped into action. They sprinted with newfound purpose to the broken bridge and joined the attack on the ogres. The strength and the fangs of the hellhounds finally made the ogres give way and they stumbled backward away from the bridge.

All of the animals, hellhounds included, snipped and snarled and pushed and growled as the ogres retreated. The goblin statues were crushed into smaller rubble as the stampede of ogre and animal crossed to the woods. Trees toppled as the ogres barreled into the forest, not even aware of where they were going, just that they were going.

When they got to the tunnel entrances, many animals fell into them, and several ogres tripped as well, crushing the ground between the tunnels and the lake with their immense bulk.

The lake water poured into the depressions and soon torrents were rushing deep into the tunnels and below, far deeper than Troll Lake had ever reached before. The hellhounds and the animals forced the rest of the monsters into the water, and they sunk even faster than the trolls had years before.

Before the heaven dwellers returned back over the sacred bridge, every animal — hellhounds too — grabbed some goblin rubble in their jaws and carried it to the now expanded shores of the lake, until none of the goblin stain remained on the valley slopes.

A hellhound stopped next to Bella and began to nuzzle Beatrix, urging her to move. After a while, she opened her eyes. In relief, Bella laid down next to her to rest and the hellhound sat next to both of them, intent on staying until he knew they were better.

As the sun set on the day of the final stand, the canary fluttered down and settled on the hellhound’s muscled shoulder and nestled in for a good night’s sleep.

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Want to read about the first battle and how Troll Lake came to be?