Welcome to the Darklands

by Richard Ashley Hamilton

  The Trollhunter mourned AAARRRGGHH!!! The soft-spoken Krubera Troll had saved Jim countless times, just as he had aided Kanjigar and Deya before him. But AAARRRGGHH!!! gave his life to save his friends, and now the gentle giant’s mossy body had been turned to solid stone. In AAARRRGGHH!!!, Jim and the others hadn’t just lost a teammate. They’d lost a friend.

  Jim pushed away all those painful thoughts as he finally reached the bottom. He stowed the Glaives back inside the onyx plates on his thighs and scanned the dim surroundings.

  That Changeling nursery has to be around here somewhere, Jim thought to himself. If I find the nursery, I find Enrique. And if I find Enrique, then I can find my way back home to Claire, Tobes, Blinky, Mom, and everyone else who doesn’t want to murder me.

  Jim shook his head in another attempt to clear his friends’ faces from his brain. The Trollhunter had committed to taking on this mission alone. That was the only way to make sure those close to him would never be in danger again. Jim had just lost AAARRRGGHH!!! He wasn’t about to lose someone else he loved.

  Turning a corner, Jim stepped into a clearing, and his blood froze. A Gumm-Gumm at his post stood before him, leaning against a wide ax that looked corroded from ages of neglect. Jim was about to reach for the Sword of Eclipse on his back when he noticed something. The Gumm-Gumm wasn’t moving. He hadn’t even reacted to Jim’s presence. In fact, the Gumm-Gumm almost looked like he was . . .

  “Asleep,” Jim whispered to himself in relief.

  The Gumm-Gumm snored softly under his helmet. Jim tiptoed around the sentry, careful not to wake him. He had just crept behind the Gumm-Gumm’s back, when another fierce wind blew across the Darklands. The gale loosened some gravel on a stone shelf over Jim’s head. He watched with dread as the little bits of rock fell and clinked against the Gumm-Gumm’s helmet.

  Rousing with a start, the Gumm-Gumm stood bolt upright and yelled, “Who goes there?”

  Jim cringed behind the guard’s broad back, still unseen. Once again, he tried for his sword, but the metal plates on his armor tapped together as his arm moved.

  The Gumm-Gumm spun around and searched the space behind him. Fortunately, Jim jumped before the Gumm-Gumm could spot him, managing to stay behind his back. The Trollhunter timed his footfalls to land with the Gumm-Gumm’s and kept out of his line of sight.

  “If that’s the Scorned or one of her rebels, come out to face me,” the Gumm-Gumm growled. “And the end of my ax!”

  Jim didn’t move a muscle. Hearing nothing else, the Gumm-Gumm huffed in satisfaction. He leaned against his battle-ax and dozed off once more.

  The second Jim heard the lazy lookout’s snore return, he padded away as quickly—and as quietly—as he could. It was only after he was out of earshot that Jim remembered to breathe again. He exhaled visible clouds in the chilly air and shivered as he found himself in front of a labyrinth.

  “I wonder if this Eclipse Armor could unlock a blanket for me,” Jim joked to himself.

  All of a sudden, Jim felt warmth against his back. At first, he half believed that maybe the armor had given him a blanket. But when Jim turned around, he saw that the heat had nothing to do with him. It came, instead, from the large flying fireball that hurtled out of the darkness and toward Jim like a comet.

  “WHO ARE YOU?” demanded the fireball. “WHO ARE YOU???”

  Jim pulled the Sword of Eclipse off his back, held it in front of his body, and hoped like crazy that this new armor was fireproof. . . .

  CHAPTER 2

  GOOD MOURNING, TROLLMARKET

  Piles of ancient scrolls and books of Troll lore sat open and unread on the large reading table in Blinky’s library. The sounds of construction rang from outside as Trolls repaired the damage caused by Angor Rot’s recent attack on Heartstone Trollmarket. But, otherwise, the library remained still and empty . . . until a tiny black dot appeared in the corner.

  The dot quickly grew from a pinprick into a wide tear through time and space, causing the scrolls and books to flutter with a rush of wind. A voice was heard from the floating circle of shadow and said, “One! Two! Three! PUSH!”

  A moment later AAARRRGGHH!!!’s stone body slid out of the black hole and into the library. Toby, Claire, and Blinky followed, shoving their petrified friend into the corner. NotEnrique, however, reclined lazily on top of AAARRRGGHH!!!’s head, snacking on a sock.

  “That’s the spirit,” NotEnrique went on. “Ya two fleshbags ain’t so weak when yer put your backs into it!”

  Toby and Claire shot the little Changeling a dirty look before they collapsed with exhaustion. Toby’s round belly heaved as he caught his breath, while Claire wiped the sweat from her brow and tucked a blue lock of hair behind her ear.

  “And . . . I used to think . . . ,” Toby said between gulps of air. “That my wingman . . . was heavy . . . before!”

  “At least moving AAARRRGGHH!!! gave us something to do,” said Claire. “I don’t think I could’ve handled staring at Killahead Bridge for another second . . . just hoping for Jim to come back through it.”

  She raised her Shadow Staff and made the black hole shrink and disappear altogether. It had taken Claire some practice, but she had gotten the hang of her new weapon. By opening these shadow portals and jumping through them, Claire could teleport to almost anywhere she wanted in the blink of an eye—anywhere except the Darklands.

  Blinky shut his six eyes and nodded in agreement with Claire, but said nothing. Normally, he could speak at length on any subject. In fact, his brother, Dictatious, used to tease Blinky about never shutting up when they were younger. But that was a long time ago, before Dictatious mysteriously disappeared at the Battle of Killahead Bridge. Losing AAARRRGGHH!!!—and now maybe Jim—had left Blinky unusually speechless.

  NotEnrique finished eating his sock and used AAARRRGGHH!!!’s smooth back as a slide. He landed on his tiny cloven feet and hiked up his diaper.

  “Well, I’m bushed,” said NotEnrique with a yawn. “Time to grab a pint at the Glug Pub. Adios, suckers!”

  NotEnrique tossed them a wave over his shoulder as he strutted toward the library’s exit. But Claire extended her Shadow Staff and hooked him by his diaper. She lifted the feisty little Changeling into the air so that they were now at eye level.

  “Oi! What’s the big idea, sponge-face?” NotEnrique said. “This’s cruel and unusual, is what it is!”

  “No,” said Claire, leaning in closer to NotEnrique. “The ‘big idea’ is that you aren’t going anywhere until we all figure out a way to help Jim.”

  NotEnrique pawed at the Shadow Staff and said, “What’s that gotta do with me? I hardly even knew Jim. I mean—Jim who? Never heard of ’im!”

  “Let’s see if I can refresh your memory,” said Toby as he got to his feet.

  Toby reached into the back of his sweater vest and pulled out his Warhammer. Thanks to a Troll gravity curse, the massive mallet hit like a ton of bricks, yet weighed less than a feather. Everything about the Warhammer seemed beyond cool to Toby—from its long metal handle to its spiked crystal hammerhead. In fact the only thing not cool about the Warhammer was how Toby couldn’t find a better holder for it than his sweater vest.

  “Jimbo went into the Darklands to find Enrique—the real Enrique,” Toby explained impatiently. “And since you were the shape-shifter sent here to impersonate Claire’s baby bro, it’s only fair that you play a part in Jim’s rescue mission!”

  NotEnrique gulped when Toby held the Warhammer up to his pug nose and added, “Unless you want to play a game of Changeling piñata?”

  “I . . . suppose the pub can wait,” mumbled NotEnrique.

  “Super,” said Claire. “Now, how can we open Killahead Bridge and go after Jim?”

  She looked around at the many books stuffing the library shelves. Blinky had inherited thousands of volumes of Troll history from Dictatious and had only added to the collection in the ensuing centuries.

  “The answer has to be in here somewhere,” Claire
continued. “Toby, you start checking Gringold’s Grimoire while I review Axle’s Forbidden Almanac and . . . and . . .”

  Claire trailed off. Her shoulders sagged, as if she had suddenly run out of steam.

  “. . . and who am I kidding?” Claire finished so quietly, the others could barely hear her.

  “Claire,” Blinky finally said in a soft voice. “We both know that only the Trollhunter may open the portal to the Darklands. There is, regrettably, no way for us to follow him.”

  “Then maybe there’s still something we can do to help him from here,” Toby said, a determined look glinting in his eyes. “I still have that Fetch and—”

  A buzzing ringtone interrupted Toby. He, Claire, and Blinky all looked at NotEnrique, who pulled a cell phone out of his diaper and started texting back.

  “Wait a minute,” Claire said. “Is that my cell?”

  “Mmmaybe,” NotEnrique winked.

  “I’m gonna kill you, you green piece of—” Claire threatened before Blinky held her back with all four of his arms.

  “Really, NotEnrique,” said Blinky. “Must you be sending text messages now, of all times? Have you no respect for the sacrifices made by the Trollhunter or his compatriots?”

  “All right, all right, don’t get yer suspenders in a twist,” said NotEnrique while he stuffed Claire’s cell back into his diaper. “I’ll just catch up with Draal later.”

  Claire tried to attack him again, but Blinky held her in place.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Slow your roll,” Toby said to NotEnrique. “Draal was texting you?”

  “If ya can call it that,” NotEnrique answered. “He can barely type with that mechanical arm of his.”

  “But what did he say?” Blinky asked. “For that matter, where in Gizmodius’s name is Draal?”

  “Camped outside that surface hospital, keeping an eye on the Trollhunter’s mum,” said NotEnrique as he casually inspected his own fingernails. “Only now he says she’s left the hospital and is headin’ back to her house. Well . . . what’s left of it, anyways . . .”

  “Great Gronka Morka!” Blinky exclaimed. “Barbara was supposed to remain in the hospital for another day, at least! The lingering effects of the memory charm have likely left her quite confused. If she returns to her home and finds that it’s been destroyed by Angor Rot—and that Jim has gone missing—”

  “That’s not gonna happen,” Toby interrupted, hefting his Warhammer over his shoulder.

  “If we can’t help Jim, then we’ll help his mom,” said Claire. “It’s what he would want us to do.”

  Now motivated into action, Blinky hurried over to the reading table. He examined two scrolls at the same time with his many eyes and said, “Very well. You three convene with Draal and intercept Barbara before she sees too much and reverts into a state of severe shock!”

  “Oh yeah?” said NotEnrique. “And what’re ya gonna do—stay here and stare at statue-boy over there?”

  Blinky sighed heavily and turned from NotEnrique to AAARRRGGHH!!! Toby poked NotEnrique in the ribs with his Warhammer. The little Changeling rubbed his side and averted his eyes, regretting what he had just said.

  “I’ve already wasted enough time feeling sorry for myself,” Blinky replied. “Now I must honor my friends’ sacrifices in the only way I know how: hours upon hours of intensive library research!”

  His six eyes welled with emotion as he looked up at AAARRRGGHH!!!’s stone face. Blinky smiled and said, “It’s what he would want me to do.”

  “Eh, still sounds boring to me,” NotEnrique said under his breath before Claire grabbed the tuft of fur on his back and yanked him out of the library.

  “Hey!” hollered NotEnrique. “Watch me scruff!”

  CHAPTER 3

  BAPTISM BY FIRE

  The Sword of Eclipse slashed through another blazing jet of fire, diverting it into two smaller streams that fizzled into smoke beside him. Jim twirled his blade in the air to cool it, then caught its hilt with his other hand. For a brief moment, Jim was reminded of how he used to do the same trick back home with his kitchen knives. He longed for those days when his biggest problem was poaching the perfect egg—not facing off against talking fireballs. Snapping back to the present, Jim concentrated on the task at hand.

  “WHO ARE YOU?” repeated the fireball as it launched another rippling wave of flames.

  Jim ducked, rolled, and activated the shield on his gauntlet. Now black and red like the rest of his armor, the shield withstood this new searing volley. Jim felt sweat pouring down his face, but at least he was still alive and not roasted alive.

  “I’m the Trollhunter,” Jim answered. “I’m here to save an innocent baby. Nothing can get in my way. Especially an overgrown firefly like you!”

  Once the flames burned out, Jim jumped for cover behind a heavy boulder and concentrated. The scorched shield and sword dissipated from Jim’s hands, only to be replaced with the two Glaives. Jim interlocked the pair of blades into a single weapon and hurled it at the fireball. The Glaives spun through the air in a razor-sharp arc, narrowly missing their target.

  “YOUR PUNY TRINKETS HAVE NO EFFECT ON ME, INTRUDER!” said the fireball, even as the Glaives circled back toward it like a boomerang. “I AM THE UNENDING FIRE! I AM INFERNO INCARNATE! I AM—”

  The Glaives sliced through the fireball, splitting it into two smaller spheres.

  “ACK!” said both fireballs before they fell to the ground.

  Jim caught the Glaives on their return and separated them. He approached the two downed fireballs, training his Glaives on them. But to Jim’s surprise, the fireballs didn’t fly again. Instead, they merged back into a single ball, which, in turn, changed shape into a humanlike figure—albeit one covered from head to toe in living flames.

  “Looks like this was my last case after all, partner,” said the fiery figure. “And with only two weeks left until retirement.”

  “What?” Jim asked, his eyes bulging as the figure held out a friendly, but flaming, hand.

  “Maybe we should start over,” said the figure.

  “Start over?!” Jim said. “You were just trying to barbeque me!”

  “The only way to survive the Darklands is by killing everything else in the Darklands,” said the fire-being as he stood up and dusted himself off. “The name’s Rob, by the way.”

  “Rob?” Jim repeated. “I thought you were the Unending Fire or Inferno Incarnate or something?”

  “Yeah, sure, but my friends just call me Rob,” Rob said with a shrug.

  “You . . . have friends?” Jim asked, unable to hide his skepticism.

  “I do now!” Rob replied.

  “Unbelievable,” muttered Jim as started to walk away. “As if the Darklands weren’t weird enough . . .”

  Rob followed Jim, leaving fiery footprints as he went, and said, “Slow down, partner. Just because I am a machine does not mean I cannot feel love.”

  Jim stopped and stared at Rob, studying what passed for his face under all those flames.

  “I know that line,” Jim said. “It’s from my best friend’s favorite movie, Gun Robot.”

  “Gun Robot 3, actually,” Rob said with a burning smile.

  “So what you said before, about your ‘last case before retirement,’ ” added Jim with dawning understanding.

  “Gun Robot 2,” confirmed Rob. “And the whole ‘WHO ARE YOU’ bit? That’s from the thrilling climax of Gun Robot, when Gun Robot learns the true identity of the mad genius who created him—Doctor Despot. Instant classic, man! And the reason I named myself Rob. It’s short for Robot!”

  Jim’s mouth hung open for a while before he managed to say, “How do you know about Gun Robot?”

  “Ah, some careless Changeling dropped a TV, VCR, and videotapes through a Fetch portal back in the 1980s,” said Rob. “I must’ve watched Gun Robots 1 through 4 thousands of times through the years. Plus the entire Moral Weapons series. Those movies taught me everything—how to speak, how to disarm bombs
at the last second, how to take the law into your own hands. . . . I only stopped watching once the tapes burned out!”

  “Um . . . oookay,” Jim said.

  Jim headed to the labyrinth’s entrance, leaving Rob behind. He tried not to think about the dry feeling in his throat. But the Darklands’ winds and the heat coming off Rob only worsened Jim’s thirst.

  The Trollhunter paused at the mouth of the maze. He wasn’t sure which direction to go. Jim looked back and forth between two paths before finally taking a step to the right.

  “Wouldn’t do that, partner,” cautioned Rob, who was now standing uncomfortably close to Jim again. “My robot sensors detect danger that way.”

  “You’re not a robot!” Jim said. “You’re just an extremely warm, extremely annoying Changeling!”

  “ERROR! ERROR!” Rob said in a robotic voice, before returning to his normal one. “I’m a Heetling—the missing link between Changelings and Helheetis.”

  “The fire-cats?” asked Jim. “Those Helheetis?”

  “Yup,” Rob said, rocking back and forth on his heels. “My dad did say Mom was quite the hottie . . . before she ate him. Anyway, you’re looking at their bouncing, burning bundle of joy. And your best chance of navigating the Darklands.”

  The Trollhunter rolled his eyes and took another step toward the right, before a bloodcurdling shriek sounded from farther down that path.

  “You really know your way around here?” Jim asked, his eyes still glued in the direction of whatever made that awful screech.

  “Yep, I’ll show you around—for a price,” said Rob.

  Jim gritted his teeth and asked, “Which is?”

  “I get you in and out of this maze alive, and you take me back with you the surface so I can finally see Gun Robot 5, 6, and 7!” Rob squealed.

  “What about Gun Robot 8?” said Jim.

  “There’s a Gun Robot 8?!” Rob exclaimed. “Well, what’re we waiting for, Trollhunter? Follow me if you want to live!”

  Rob transformed back into a fireball and zoomed down the left path. Jim slapped his hand against his forehead and reluctantly followed his new guide.