The Book of Ga-Huel

by Richard Ashley Hamilton

  At a loss for words, Jim had watched NotEnrique and Chompsky dutifully depart for his house before he reentered the Void and found this scrying portal. It was as if this strange realm anticipated what the Trollhunter wanted before Jim even did.

  “Say, Deya, these scrying portals don’t show you everything, do they?” asked Jim.

  Specifically, he was concerned about their ability to spy on him during potentially embarrassing moments. Like when Jim would sing slow jams in the shower, for example.

  “Not everything, Trollhunter,” Deya replied. “We do value some modicum of privacy.”

  “Oh good,” said Jim, trying to mask his great relief. “I, uh, don’t suppose you’ve had any run-ins with The Book of Ga-Huel too?”

  “No, I cannot say I ever spied its pernicious pages,” Deya replied. “Yet I remain all too familiar with enemies who trade in deception. From Changelings to Polymorfs to Trickster Trolls to Glamour Masks that conceal one’s true identity, it has ever been difficult for Trollhunters to tell friend from foe.”

  “No kidding,” said Jim, crestfallen. “I once met this Heetling named Rob, who—Deya?”

  Jim became abruptly aware of the fact that Deya’s ghost had vanished. He turned around, not seeing her anywhere in the Void, which now appeared much darker. His skin prickled with goose bumps. Jim looked down and saw that he once again wore the Eclipse Armor.

  “Oh, no,” uttered Jim before the Void evaporated beneath his feet.

  As before, Jim fell through the Darklands for what felt like an eternity. His flailing arms reached out and—just as before—snagged a series of coarse hanging chains. The Trollhunter broke his fall and swung like a pendulum over the bottomless black pit.

  “This isn’t real!” Jim said. “It’s another waking dream from the Void Visitations!”

  But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, Jim remained hanging there like bait on a lure. His metal-covered fingers started to slip on the links, and he thought he heard the slither of a nearby Nyarlagroth.

  “Or not!” Jim said with rising panic.

  Thinking fast, he summoned his twin Glaives—both black and red to match the Eclipse Armor. Gripping one blade in each hand, Jim swung his right arm upward and wedged the Glaive into the open center of link over his head. He pulled himself up and repeated the same motion with his left arm. Bit by bit, link by link, the Trollhunter hoisted himself up the chain until he reached the Darklands’ Changeling nursery. He clambered onto the same bassinet from his previous nightmares, more inconsolable baby cries ringing in his ears.

  Jim clamped his eyes shut in a feeble attempt to drown out the plaintive wails, but still they came. When he reopened them, Jim saw that gold glint again. It reflected off the small metal plate screwed into the opposite end of the bassinet. The Trollhunter squinted at the gilded rectangle and, this time, he could discern letters on its surface.

  Ignoring the baby shrieks and the roars of oncoming Nyarlagroths, Jim pulled himself into the empty bassinet and read the words etched onto the golden name plate.

  “Of course!” said Jim, thunderstruck with sudden understanding.

  “What’s that, Trollhunter?” asked Deya the Deliverer.

  Jim startled, then found himself back in his Daylight Armor and in the Void with the fallen Trollhunter’s see-through spirit.

  “Deya! You’re back!” cried Jim. “I’m back!”

  “But neither of us ever left,” she said, not quite following him.

  “I was in the Darklands! Again! I mean, sorta!” babbled Jim, his mind racing.

  “Ah,” said Deya in dismay. “It would only make sense for you to experience flashbacks from your ordeal in that dismal dimension. I, too, suffered fitful dreams for years after the Battle of Killahead Bridge.”

  “No, it’s not like that,” Jim replied, his eyes wide with insight. “At least, not only like that. I think the Void wanted me to have a visitation to one of my own memories. I think I just solved the mystery of The Book of Ga-Huel!”

  CHAPTER 16

  IF THIS BE MY TOMB

  Six bleary eyes fluttered open. Their pupils dilated, trying to focus on an unfamiliar setting. With a groan, Blinky tried to sit up, but found himself bound to an ornately carved stone table.

  “A Gumm-Gumm sacrificial altar,” Blinky rasped in recognition.

  “It dates back to the Mayan empire,” said a being outside of Blinky’s blurred field of vision. “You might find it interesting to note that your previous protégé, Unkar, also occupied that altar, until Bular—ah, but what kind of author spoils the ending to a story?”

  Blinky turned his head and saw a potbellied, bespectacled Troll shuffle into view.

  “The Dishonorable Bodus,” Blinky sneered.

  “Not much as far as pen names go, is it?” replied Bodus. “But I’ll take it—and take so much more. Starting with this . . .”

  Bodus held out Blinky’s Horngazel key and began writing with it along the walls, tracing over some old Trollspeak graffiti on the cinderblocks. The faded words suddenly glowed red, as if refreshed. Blinky shivered, recognizing the writing on the walls from that dreadful page in The Book of Ga-Huel.

  “That’s the only problem with these Blocking Spells—they need to be rewritten every few hours,” Bodus said, appraising the crystal key in his hand. “Still, what a curious implement, this Horngazel. It likely draws from the same inexplicable inkwell as my own quill of choice. I’d best jot down this finding in the appendix.”

  Blinky watched Bodus waddle over to a dim corner of the enclosed space, where The Book of Ga-Huel sat open on a desk of human origin. Bodus set down the Horngazel, retrieved his crystal pen, and began drawing with it upon his own protruding belly. Blinky gawked in confusion as he watched the writing disappear from Bodus’s belly and then reappear on The Book of Ga-Huel’s next blank page. The parchment blazed with blinding light, forcing Blinky to turn away from it. But Bodus’s eyes remained unaffected behind his crystal spectacles.

  “Then it is you who has been adding pages to that book of late,” Blinky said.

  “With some help,” said a German-inflected voice.

  Blinky craned his head and saw the patchwork Polymorf lurking in the cinderblock chamber. Troll horns wreathed Uhl’s head like antlers, and a Troll dagger gleamed in his hand. Fluorescent liquid coated the blade, a fat drop beading onto the knife’s point.

  “Creeper’s Sun,” said Blinky, recognizing the toxin that once turned AAARRRGGHH!!! to solid, lifeless stone. “If this be my tomb, then get on with it, Polymorf. All I ask is that you spare my friends’ lives when they come to grieve over me, as predicted on that profane page!”

  “Do you really think you’re in a position to make requests?” asked the Polymorf, the accent wavering. “And there’s no way your friends will ever find my secret lai—”

  The Sword of Daylight thrust between two cinderblocks an inch from the Polymorf’s nose. Using the wide blade like a lever, Jim pried open a hidden door in the wall from the outside.

  “Master Jim!” Blinky exclaimed.

  The Trollhunter slashed away the ropes tying Blinky to the altar. Toby, Claire, Draal, and AAARRRGGHH!!! barged in after him, the Arcadia Oaks High School library visible behind them. Toby looked at the bookcase disguising the other side of the cinderblock door and said, “Guess Strickler’s office wasn’t the only room with a hideout built into it. Our school is weird.”

  “And tagged with Trollish Blocking Spells,” added Claire, identifying the words Bodus scrawled along the walls. “No wonder I couldn’t ‘feel’ Blinky with my Shadow Staff.”

  Draal cornered Bodus, while AAARRRGGHH!!! swallowed up Blinky in a great bear hug. The horned Uhl went red in the face and yelled at the teenagers, “You three delinquents will be expelled from this school—and from life!”

  “You can drop the Uhl act now,” Jim said to the Polymorf. “I know your real identity. Turns out I’ve known ever since I read it in the Changeling nursery back in
the Darklands. Isn’t that right . . . Eloise Stemhower?”

  The Polymorf’s smirk faltered before its entire body shrank and sculpted itself into the petite, redheaded frame of Ellie, the new school librarian. She snorted another adorable laugh and said, “Gosh, guys, you can just call me Ellie. All my students-slash-victims do.”

  “What do your bosses in the Janus Order call you?” asked Claire, tightening her grip on the Shadow Staff.

  “Just because they’re Changelings doesn’t make ’em my bosses,” said Ellie. “I sell my protection, infiltration, and execution services to the highest bidder. And nobody’s been more desperate to pay me than ol’ Bodus here. We’ve been thick as thieves ever since I smuggled him outta Berlin. I mean, who could possibly be a better double or triple agent than a Polymorf?”

  “I . . . I think I’m gonna be sick,” Toby groaned, his cheeks puffing with nausea, then deflating. “How come you didn’t get exposed by the Gaggletack? I saw you touch it with your bare hand! Your delicate, porcelain-skinned bare hand . . .”

  “What, you mean this hand?” asked Ellie, holding up her dagger-wielding left arm.

  The revealed Polymorf then held up her right, which transformed into its true form—a mechanical, prosthetic arm, not unlike Draal’s—and said, “Or this one?”

  “I guess I meant the one without the potential murder weapon, but they’re both pretty bad,” Toby said, his heart sinking.

  “Aw, sorry, kid.” Ellie mock pouted. “Gaggletacks don’t work on metal, even when it’s made to look like flesh. But at least you’ll all be dead soon. Starting with your biggest target!”

  The rest of Ellie’s body reverted to its actual state—that of a reptilian, chalk-white Polymorf Changeling with a false arm—and hurled her poisoned knife at AAARRRGGHH!!!

  “No!” cried Blinky.

  The six-eyed Troll stood protectively in front of his much larger teammate, shielding AAARRRGGHH!!! with his own body, and prepared for the worst. The dagger closed in on Blinky’s heart—before bouncing off Jim’s raised shield. The Trollhunter glared at the albino Polymorf and said, “I don’t care what that stupid book says. Blinky lives. The end.”

  “Typical,” spat Bodus. “Everyone’s a critic!”

  The porcine Troll held open the tome at Team Trollhunters, shining its dazzlingly bright light at them. They all ducked behind the altar, but the glare left Toby, Claire, Draal, and AAARRRGGHH!!! groping in the dark.

  “Can’t see!” grumbled AAARRRGGHH!!!

  “Me neither!” said Toby. “Now I know how Nana feels without her glasses!”

  Claire blinked a few times and said, “I think it’s just temporary! We didn’t look directly at it. We just need enough time for our eyes to adjust!”

  “Then it is time you shall have!” declared Draal.

  He hunched into a tight ball and blindly rolled around the cinderblock chamber. His spiked body missed the Polymorf but bowled over Bodus, knocking The Book of Ga-Huel from his hands. Jim watched the piggish Troll scurry into a corner, the bright spots now fading from the Trollhunter’s recovering vision. He next saw the Polymorf lunging for Blinky, and pulled his six-eyed friend clear of her metal hand.

  “We gotta get you someplace safe!” Jim said to Blinky.

  But the Polymorf tackled both of them behind the desk while Bodus, still unseen in the corner, put down his crystal pen and picked up the dagger. AAARRRGGHH!!!, Toby, Claire, and Draal’s sight all returned, but they still couldn’t see much of the struggle on the other side of the desk.

  “Now, Blinky!” shouted Jim.

  The six-eyed Troll sprang up from behind the desk and made a break for the library—only to run into the poisoned dagger held by Bodus. His four arms grew rigid. Blinky took one last look at the horrified Team Trollhunters before his body turned to stone and fell apart.

  CHAPTER 17

  GHOST WRITER

  “Spoiler alert, Trollhunter!” cackled Bodus. “The Book of Ga-Huel is never wrong!”

  Jim rushed out from behind the desk and knelt beside Blinky’s fractured husk. Claire, Toby, Draal, and AAARRRGGHH!!! all gathered in mourning around him, tears streaming from human and Troll eyes alike.

  “What did he ever do to you?” Jim said bitterly to Bodus.

  “Nothing,” smirked the bespectacled Troll. “But if one is to destroy a team, it only makes sense to start with its most learned member.”

  AAARRRGGHH!!! tried to fit Blinky’s pieces back together, but they just crumbled to dust in his paws. Toby and Claire hugged his furry back in sympathy, in grief.

  “Without the sage guidance of Blinkous Galadrigal, you and your allies with perish in short order,” the Dishonorable Bodus continued. “I will use that victory to make up for all the bad things I wrote about Gunmar and reenter his good graces—‘good’ being a relative term, you understand. Ah, but I digress! My deeds will impress upon Gunmar the need to call off his assassins. I won’t need a Polymorf bodyguard ever again! In time, the Gumm-Gumm king will come to see me not as a liability, but as the oracle who shall foresee his violent path to victory!”

  “That’s never going to happen,” vowed Jim, wiping his eyes with his gauntlet. “Gunmar’s trapped in the Darklands forever.”

  Bodus smiled in malevolence and said, “Boy, are you in for a plot twist.”

  “I could say the same of you,” announced a rich, sonorous voice recognized by every surviving member of Team Trollhunters.

  Bodus turned toward the desk and found Blinky staring back at him. The Troll crossed his four arms and grinned with the confidence of someone at a superior advantage. Stunned speechless, Bodus looked at the others. Toby, Claire, Draal, and AAARRRGGHH!!! dropped their sad pretenses, and Jim held aloft the stone Blinky head. The Trollhunter pulled on its face, tugging free an odd, Tiki-like Troll mask.

  “A Glamour Mask!” seethed Bodus.

  Beneath the mask, he saw the petrified grimace of the Polymorf once named Eloise Stemhower—Ellie, to her students-slash-victims.

  “She didn’t even realize Jim had placed the Glamour Mask onto her during our struggle,” said Blinky. “How’s that for a plot twist?”

  Bodus backed away from Team Trollhunters and stammered, “B-but I saw your faces! Y-you wept for your friend!”

  “Acting!” Toby yelled dramatically.

  “And we had a good teacher,” said Draal.

  He clapped his mismatched hands in applause while Claire took a modest bow. Bodus gaped in bewilderment before Blinky shoved him against the cinderblock wall. He cocked his hands into four fists, and Bodus squealed, “You wouldn’t hit a Troll with glasses, would you?!”

  “Not normally, no,” admitted Blinky. “But six eyes are greater than four. So, in your case, I’ll make an exception!”

  Blinky socked Dishonorable Bodus clear across the face, knocking off his spectacles. He embraced his teammates and said, “Now that the future foretold by The Book of Ga-Huel has come to pass—more or less—we needn’t run from it anymore, my friends.”

  “Who doesn’t love a happy ending?” Jim said as he fist-bumped Blinky four times over.

  “This isn’t how it ends!” shrieked Bodus.

  Jim and the others returned their attentions to the defeated author. He scrambled across the floor for his crystal pen, then began scribbling furiously on his belly again. The writing disappeared from Bodus’s flesh, and he held The Book of Ga-Huel in front of his face to see it transcribed across a blank page.

  “Forgetting something?” said AAARRRGGHH!!!

  He pointed to the pair of cracked spectacles by his large foot before stomping on them. The Dishonorable Bodus’s unprotected eyes looked back in horror upon The Book of Ga-Huel, and the intense glare of its newest page was the last thing he ever saw. The tome grew too heavy for the brittle hands that held it. Bodus’s fingers crumbled, and the book dropped into his still, stone lap, where it stopped shining.

  Jim and Blinky braved a look at the latest entry in The Book of Ga-Hue
l. It bore a single image of a potbellied Troll, his porcine face frozen in a scream, an open book resting in his still, stone lap.

  EPILOGUE

  LEFT OF TODAY

  After the Saturday sun set over Arcadia, Blinky requested that Team Trollhunters gather in Jim’s backyard. Jim, Toby, Claire, AAARRRGGHH!!!, Draal, NotEnrique, and Chompsky all sat in silence on the lawn as their six-eyed friend stood before them. At first, Blinky couldn’t seem to find the right words. He seemed rattled by his near-death experience.

  “C’mon, Blink, you can do it,” Jim encouraged.

  Blinky closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “The events of this past week have taught me a lot about life. About how fragile and precious our existence truly is.”

  The teammates all looked at one another, moved by Blinky’s sentiments. Jim and Claire held hands. Toby cozied up beside his Wingman. And Chompsky tried to hug NotEnrique, who initially balked—only to roll his eyes and hug the little Gnome back.

  “Although some might argue that each sunrise and sunset only brings us closer to our inevitable demise, I now see that each day is a new opportunity as well,” Blinky continued. “A chance to be with those we love and to appreciate the very privilege of drawing in breath for even one more hour, minute, or second. And so, my friends, I can think of no better way for us to celebrate life together . . . than to mindlessly detonate melons with miniature novelty explosives!”

  Everyone cheered as Blinky rolled out an enormous watermelon and lit the fuse poking from its rind. AAARRRGGHH!!! leaned closer to Blinky and whispered, “What’s in it?”

  “Dwärkstone grenades,” Blinky whispered back.

  “Three! Two! One!” the group counted down.

  The melon hit critical mass, exploding like a supernova star, and Team Trollhunters frolicked in the shower of juice and seeds. Jim felt his cell buzz in his back pocket and saw a text message from his mom on its screen.