“Better luck next time, Ba-Bru-Ah,” Draal said quietly.
Despite himself, Draal could not help but feel sorry for Jim’s mother. He had sworn to protect Barbara to his dying day, much as he swore devout allegiance to the Trollhunter for sparing Draal’s life. The spiked Troll treated this bodyguard duty as the most important job of his very long existence, and intended to keep it just that—a job. But after months of secretly living in their basement, Draal had overheard how much Jim and Barbara truly loved each other. Their special bond often made Draal think about his own mother, Ballustra, and how much he missed her.
He sniffled and wiped his nose. Draal then considered the replacement hand he just used and the larger prosthetic connected to it. Curling the metal fingers into a fist, he remembered how he’d literally given his right arm months ago to free Merlin’s Amulet from the reassembled Killahead Bridge. At the time, Draal hadn’t paid much thought to the consequences before leaping into action, just as he hadn’t missed his pulverized appendage ever since. Losing an arm to abort Gunmar’s return to the surface world seemed a reasonable sacrifice to Draal. And even though he occasionally felt phantom pains of the Amulet searing into his former palm, Draal would gladly offer his left arm and both legs, too, if it meant protecting the Trollhunter and his family.
Barbara’s sudden shriek made Draal look up again. His eyes scoped the backyard for danger, then rested on Barbara’s bare feet again. She lifted one of them, revealing squishy bits of melon between her toes. Draal’s posture relaxed. They must’ve missed a spot during their cleanup.
“Gross,” Barbara grumbled. “What in the world was Jim up to out here?”
Draal’s smirk faded when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. A pair of unmistakably yellow eyes watched Barbara from the shadows at the far end of the yard. Alarmed, Draal pressed his face against the window. But the glass had been spotted with water stains from the lawn sprinklers, making it impossible to get a better look.
Barbara hosed off her feet, oblivious to the stranger skulking in the periphery. Those eyes seemed to get bigger as their owner took a step toward Jim’s mom. Draal grabbed his ax and ran for the stairs before skidding to a halt. If he were to run into the yard now, he’d reveal his existence to Barbara. But if he did nothing, then the life of the Trollhunter’s mother would be in jeopardy. Draal’s mind raced as he debated what to do.
Outside, Barbara shut off the hose, still unaware of the presence behind her. Draal finally tucked his body into a spiked blue ball and rolled up the basement steps as Barbara opened the back door. Timing it just right, Draal wheeled onto the staircase to the second floor, while Barbara entered her kitchen. Draal continued into Jim’s bedroom before launching his rounded form out of the open window.
Now in the living room, Barbara could no longer see her backyard—or the brawny, ax-wielding Troll that just landed in it. Draal slashed blindly at the shadows, but his blade passed only through bushes and branches. He stopped and studied the entire perimeter of the yard. It was empty, save for Draal—and a very startled raccoon in the oak tree.
CHAPTER 5
FIGHT THE FUTURE
“So I says: ‘Kelpestrum?! It darn near killed ’em!’ ” joked NotEnrique.
Gnome Chompsky squeaked with laughter as he and the little Changeling barged into the Troll library. But the miniature pair fell silent when they saw Blinky huddled in the corner, shaking his head and moaning “Great Gronka Morka” over and over again.
“Neep, neep, neep?” asked Chompsky.
“Yeah, what’s with him?” NotEnrique repeated, jerking his tiny green thumb at Blinky.
Jim, Toby, and Claire looked up from The Book of Ga-Huel at the new arrivals. As AAARRRGGHH!!! tenderly draped a blanket over Blinky’s shoulders, the Trollhunter said, “Let’s just say that The Book of Ga-Huel isn’t the feel-good read of the year. Or millennium.”
Gnome Chompsky removed his hat, revealing his broken horn, and chittered in agitation.
“You said it,” NotEnrique agreed. “There’s some bad juju in them pages.”
“Yes, terrible juju! The very worst juju!” said Blinky, getting to his feet. “Forgive me, my friends. But when confronted with the bleak portent of my own demise, I’m afraid I—”
“Freaked out?” offered Toby.
“Went crazy-town banana-pants?” offered Claire.
“With extra side of nuts?” offered AAARRRGGHH!!!
“All the above, I suppose,” said Blinky, returning the blanket to AAARRRGGHH!!! “It’s just that, in spite of recent adversities, these past few months have been among the finest of my long life. Masters Jim, Tobias, and Claire—you have blessed me with your trust and friendship. And AAARRRGGHH!!!, to have you among the living once again . . .”
His voice grew thick with emotion, and his six eyes welled with tears. Chompsky locked the library doors, figuring the last thing they all needed now was any more unannounced visitors.
“Believe me, I know just how you feel, Blink,” Jim reassured. “But don’t worry. Team Trollhunters is finally back together, and we won’t let anything break us apart again.”
“It sounded like you knew about this book,” Claire said to NotEnrique. “Anything important you can share with the rest of us?”
“Only what I overheard the Janus Order reporting through the Fetch portals while I was livin’ in the Darklands,” he answered.
“The Janus Order! Of course that network of Changeling spies would be involved in this,” hissed Blinky. “Those two-faced shape-shifters bring nothing but misery and death—er, present company excluded, NotEnrique.”
The reformed Changeling shrugged and said, “None taken! Those snobby twits refused my application when I tried to join ’em! And it’s not like it matters anyway. The Order’s kept that book under lock and key since 1937, but hardly any of the agents had enough gronk-nuks to actually go near the bloody thing. Strickler was the only one who could ever read it and not turn as white as a Blood Goblin’s bottom. So when he decided to move it to his office at yer school, nobody put up a fight.”
“But just because something shows up in The Book of Ga-Huel doesn’t necessarily mean it’s gonna happen . . . right?” asked Toby.
With a sullen expression, Blinky took the book from Claire and opened it. Jim shouted, “Blinky, no! That light blast will turn you into—”
“I am heartened by your concern, Master Jim,” said Blinky. “But I believe that light only emanates once blank pages are filled with new writings. Otherwise, I would’ve been turned to stone when I first encountered these accursed annals in Strickler’s office, lo those many months ago. Besides, if we treat the book’s contents as fact—and I believe we must—then no harm will befall me in my library. That page I saw of . . . of my own death . . . took place in an entirely different setting. Also, Draal appears in that dreadful drawing, yet he is not present here.”
Blinky licked his finger and pored through the book’s earliest chapters. His many eyes took in the strange symbols and savage imagery. Turning from page to page, Blinky winced anew at each entry in this history of horrors. He saw the page illustrating Spar the Spiteful’s final moments with Gunmar and Bular. Another page documented how Gunmar betrayed Orlagk the Oppressor, losing an eye in the process. And yet another recounted AAARRRGGHH!!!’s change of heart at the Battle of Killahead Bridge, followed by Gunmar’s exile to the Darklands. With a weary breath, Blinky shut The Book of Ga-Huel and felt a desperate need to wash his four hands.
“As you can see, Tobias, every event depicted within its chapters has, in fact, come to pass,” Blink continued with some difficulty. “For whatever purpose, we have been given a glimpse of the future. And its course appears rather fixed.”
“We can’t think like that, Blink,” said Jim, even as he felt the Amulet tick in his pocket like a doomsday clock. “We’ve faced so many other insane challenges and won each time. If we have to fight the future, then so be it.”
“And since
all we have right now are questions, we should start by answering them,” suggested Claire. “Like, how can a book predict the future in the first place?”
“And who is the ghost writer still adding pages across time and space?” Toby added.
“I . . . I don’t know,” Jim confessed. “But I think I know who might—”
Three loud bangs at the library doors made everyone freeze in place. They all watched the deadbolt rattle as three more knocks thundered from the other side.
“Blinkous Galadrigal and Aarghaumont of the Krubera!” said Queen Usurna. “By the order of the Troll Tribunal, I demand you open these doors and surrender your human Trollhunter for further questioning.”
“Man, you really are Panama-nun-grotto around here,” Toby whispered to Jim.
“Persona non grata,” Blinky corrected. “It means an unwelcome person who—”
“I hear voices in there!” boomed Queen Usurna. “Enough delaying. You Kruberas break down these doors at once. So commands your queen!”
Heavy Troll fists and shoulders banged against the library doors harder than before. Claire focused her attention on the Shadow Staff and opened another black vortex. Jim, Toby, Blinky, and AAARRRGGHH!!! each ran through it, while NotEnrique and Chompsky lagged behind. Claire beckoned them forward as the deadbolt started to crack. But NotEnrique shooed her away with a wave and whispered, “We got this, sis.”
Claire nodded at the little green imp and disappeared into her portal just as the doors crashed down. A battalion of Krubera Trolls flooded into the library, followed by Queen Usurna, her regal head upturned in disdain. NotEnrique stood before her, talking into a scroll like it was a microphone, while Chompsky rolled on the floor in laughter.
“Ah, I see we got some guests from outta town!” NotEnrique said to the Kruberas. “Speakin’ of outta town, anyone here ever been to Gatto’s Keep? It’s more like Gatto’s Seep, amiright?! I mean, what’s the deal with that Mountain Troll’s digestive system? Pee-yew!”
Chompsky doubled over in hysterics, but Usurna seemed less than entertained. She turned on her heels and strode out of the library, followed by her confused Krubera soldiers.
“Hey, you guys’ve been a fun crowd!” NotEnrique called after them as they left the library in a huff. “Drive safely and don’t forget to tip yer Gnomes on the way out!”
CHAPTER 6
SEEKING COUNCIL
Jim could’ve sworn he heard the distant hiss of Strickler’s Antramonstrum as he and his friends crossed through the Shadow Realm. The Trollhunter wondered whether the smoke creature preferred being exiled here or in the Darklands. In the end, though, Jim decided both places were pretty terrible. He shuddered and watched Claire conjure another portal, depositing them into Trollmarket’s training pit—the Hero’s Forge.
“We better move quickly,” said Claire. “Who knows how long NotEnrique’s diversion will keep Queen Usurna occupied.”
AAARRRGGHH!!! pulled a lever in one of the arena’s recesses. Enormous gears cranked behind the sheer rock walls, and the foreboding relic known as the Soothscryer emerged.
“You sure you wanna put your arm in there, Jimbo?” asked Toby. “The last things I saw go into the Soothscryer were those PyroBligst gorbs. And they never came out again!”
“I have to, Tobes,” said Jim. “It’s the only way I can reach the Void.”
“And the Council of Trollhunters,” concluded Blinky.
“It’s like you mentioned earlier, Blink,” Jim said. “Trollhunters throughout time have tried to locate and understand The Book of Ga-Huel, only to turn up empty-handed.”
“But together, their spirits may have enough collective information to piece together a bigger picture—a greater understanding of how its fortune-telling powers work!” said Blinky, catching on. “One which might . . . might . . .”
“Save Blinky,” AAARRRGGHH!!! finished.
Jim raised his Amulet and said, “For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!”
The incantation triggered the Daylight Armor to materialize around Jim. He gave Blinky an encouraging thumbs-up with one armored hand while thrusting the other into the Soothscryer’s open jaws. Jim shut his eyes and felt a powerfully old magic overtake his body, pulling him forward. When he reopened them, Jim found himself in an entirely different—but no less disorienting—landscape than the Shadow Realm.
“The Void,” Jim said, his voice echoing along the afterlife’s misty expanse.
He had not spent much time here before, but being back in the Void made Jim’s pulse race with a blend of nerves and excitement. It reminded him of the feeling he got before taking a big test at school—a feeling of being watched and judged all at the same time.
Numerous spheres of energy flew out of the Void’s haze and approached Jim. One by one, the incandescent balls expanded and took shape. Jim looked on in awe, soon finding himself surrounded by the Council of Trollhunters. Each of these spirits had served in turn as Merlin’s champions. And once their bodies had fallen (almost always in battle), their souls had then ascended to this rarified plane.
“Um, hey,” said Jim lamely to the impassive Trollhunters.
Some of the transparent figures shifted aside, making way for two of the finest warriors to ever wield Daylight—Kanjigar the Courageous and Deya the Deliverer.
“Well met, Trollhunter,” greeted Kanjigar. “Do not mistake our silence for displeasure. And yet we know your appearance here is of grave import.”
Deya stared disarmingly into Jim’s eyes and said, “Forsooth, we have witnessed your recent woes from the Void. We already understand what—and who—lies in the balance.”
“Then you can help me save Blinky!” Jim said hopefully.
“That remains to be seen, human,” said the spirit of Spar the Spiteful.
Jim could tell from the faraway gaze in Spar’s eyes that he was still blinded in the afterlife. Another Trollhunter, a Krubera like AAARRRGGHH!!!, took a step forward and gave Jim a hearty slap on the back. Caught off guard, Jim stumbled forward and wondered how he could’ve felt that in a place populated entirely by ghosts.
“Greetings, flesh child!” said the Krubera Trollhunter with a bemused laugh. “I am Boraz the Bold! Surely you recognize me from the many statues, songs, and sagas made in my honor?”
“Um . . . sure?” lied Jim.
“Naturally!” Boraz the Bold said without actually stopping to listen. “Then you are no doubt aware of how I inherited the Amulet from Spar after he was felled by that Gumm-Gumm scum. But did you know that I, Boraz the Bold, also encountered The Book of Ga-Huel during one of my many memorable conquests?”
Before Jim could answer, Boraz laughed another haughty laugh and said, “It’s a trick question. Of course you knew. Who doesn’t know about Boraz the Bold’s every adventure?!”
Jim turned back toward Kanjigar and Deya for help, but they merely shrugged in a “What can you do?” fashion. Boraz wrapped one muscular arm around Jim’s shoulders while gesturing grandly to the horizon with his free hand.
“Except it’s one thing to hear about my greatness and another thing entirely to see it,” Boraz continued. “So come with me—Boraz the Bold—and witness history in the making! Would that make my little fan happy?”
Before Jim could correct Boraz, he realized they were no longer standing in the Void—or the Hero’s Forge for that matter. Instead, the pair of Trollhunters stood in an altogether different arena, yet one that seemed strangely familiar to Jim.
“Welcome to the famed Colosseum of Rome!” said Boraz the Bold.
Jim grimaced as the former Trollhunter let out another self-satisfied laugh. But Jim instantly knew Boraz was right. He recognized the iconic structure from the AP World History class Strickler used to teach. Only, this Colosseum looked brand-new and empty, like it hadn’t yet been used. He ran his armored fingers over the smooth limestone pillars and could practically smell wet stucco on the walls.
“Unreal,” said Jim.
He remembered how one page in their textbooks featured two side-by-side images: The first was a photograph of the Colosseum’s weathered ruins as they appeared in Jim’s era. The second was an artists’ rendering of what the famous stadium would have looked like in its heyday. Standing there now, Jim could see that the artist was off on certain details about the height of the spectator stands and the orientation of the gladiator pens.
“I’d hazard we’re here circa the year 70 CE on your funny human calendar,” said Boraz. “Actually, I know for a fact it’s 70 CE because that’s when . . . well, you’ll see!”
Moonlight shined down through the Colosseum’s open-air arena. Jim noticed how it reflected off their armor and asked, “Boraz, are . . . are we actually here?”
“HA!” roared Boraz. “Only in spirit, small one. In these Void Visitations, we may observe what has transpired. But none may see, hear, or touch us. And it’s ‘the Bold.’ Boraz the Bold. Say it with me. Boraz the Bold.”
“Boraz the Bold,” Jim said halfheartedly.
“There! You’re getting the hang of it!” Boraz the Bold said cheerfully. “Look!”
Jim followed Boraz the Bold’s pointing finger to one of the gladiator pens. Its gates burst open from the inside, and out strutted . . . another Boraz the Bold.
“That’s . . . that’s you!” said Jim to the ghost of Boraz the Bold beside him.
“Great Gorgus, I’d almost forgotten how good I looked!” said Boraz’s spirit. “Now watch this part. Watch what I do here!”
The Book of Ga-Huel Page 3
