“And this time, it’s personal,” Rob added randomly.
“Once again, you misunderstand me, Trollhunter,” said Skarlagk. “We aren’t going to fight Gunmar.”
She stomped her booted foot onto the stone floor—three stomps, this time—and the weapons began rattling in their racks. Without warning, a Nyarlagroth burst through the armory walls, heeding Skarlagk’s call. Numerous Gumm-Gumm spears and arrows jutted from its sides like needles in a pincushion.
“I don’t get it,” Rob said while jerking a thumb at the Nyarlagroth. “Is this thing supposed to fight Gunmar? Because that’s just ridiculous.”
Skarlagk signaled the Nyarlagroth, and it obediently opened its jaws. Hauling back her leg, Skarlagk then punted Rob inside the eel’s maw with a swift kick to Rob’s rear.
“Catch you in the sequel!” Rob said before being swallowed in one giant gulp.
Jim looked from the slithering behemoth to Skarlagk in utter disbelief.
“What’re you doing?!” Jim demanded, his whips now crackling with neon fury.
Skarlagk signaled the eel again and answered, “Saying farewell, Jim Lake Junior.”
This Nyarlagroth’s glowing tongue shot past its rows of teeth and slipknotted around Jim. His whips fizzled as he railed in futility against the glowing appendage. Jim could hear Gunmar’s advance soldiers marching down the spiral staircase toward the armory.
“Skarlagk,” Jim gasped. “You don’t have to do this alone!”
“Find the nursery, Trollhunter,” Skarlagk said.
As the tongue reeled Jim toward the Nyarlagroth, he watched Skarlagk. She removed her father’s skull and fit it on top of her own head like a helmet of bone. Now done with the satchel, Skarlagk tossed it past Jim, and into the eel’s waiting mouth.
“Rescue this ‘Enrique’ and the other babes within it,” said Skarlagk. “Give them the childhood that Gunmar stole from me.”
“Wait!” Jim shouted. “WAIT!”
The last thing he saw before the Nyarlagroth’s drooling jaws shut around him was the Warrior Queen taking up her mace and sword once again. Now lodged in the cramped recesses of the throat, Jim couldn’t see anything. But he could still hear just fine, even as the Nyarlagroth started to slither out of the fortress. Pressing his ear to the slippery membranes lining its insides, Jim listened to the Gumm-Gumms batter down the armory door.
“Skarlagk the Scorned,” said a cruel voice.
Jim recognized it immediately. Even though it was muffled by the Nyarlagroth’s body, the sound of Gunmar speaking sent chills down Jim’s spine—just as it had done when he first heard it months ago.
“Hiding in a corner, just as she did when I beheaded her father,” Gunmar continued. “Perhaps I shall do the same now and make a matching set of their skulls.”
Jim heard another distant voice laugh and compliment his Dark Underlord’s wit. The Trollhunter writhed and kicked against the tongue, but it only tightened. Even in the dark, Jim felt his vision fade as he started to black out again.
“Or perhaps I shall use my Decimaar Blade to make her finally obey my every order,” said Gunmar, his voice even farther away as the Nyarlagroth burrowed out of the armory.
“I would sooner die than serve you again,” came Skarlagk’s faint, but ever defiant, voice.
Jim barely heard Skarlagk grunt, then drop her mace and sword, before he succumbed to the darkness.
CHAPTER 17
BURNED
When Jim woke up, it was to the thick smell of smoke and the sting of stomach acid on his armor. He scrambled to an upright position—at least as upright as the low ceiling of the Nyarlagroth’s stomach allowed Jim to stand. In that moment, the Trollhunter realized two things. One, that the great eel was busy digesting Jim while he was (thankfully) unconscious. And two, that Jim could actually see in the stomach.
He looked over his shoulder and found Rob sitting dejectedly on top of a catapult boulder in the middle of a pool of churning yellow acid. He almost looked like a little kid in a time-out as he flicked tiny fireballs against the stomach walls, to no effect.
“Hey,” said an unusually sullen Rob. “Glad to see you’re up. I was just about to give ya CPR. As a duly deputized robo-officer of the Future Police, I’m fully programmed in mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”
“Gee, thanks, ‘Gun Robot,’ ” Jim said. “Or you could just burn your way out of this Nyarlagroth’s gut and take me with you? Like how I saved you back at Skarlagk’s fortress?”
Saying her name instantly reminded Jim of Skarlagk . . . and of her ultimate fate at Gunmar’s hands. He still hadn’t seen Gunmar, and yet the Trollhunter now hated the Gumm-Gumm warlord more than ever.
“I tried,” Rob murmured. “But wouldn’t ya know it? Turns out Nyarlagroths are fireproof on the outside and the inside.”
Jim looked down at his legs. The Eclipse Armor protected them from the stomach’s corrosive juices, yet he didn’t know how long that would last—or how much breathable oxygen was left in there. With a thought, Jim vanished the whips that had become tangled about his body, while conjuring the Sword of Eclipse in his right hand.
“Okay,” Jim said to Rob as he pointed the blade at the intestinal wall. “This is gonna get messy.”
The Nyarlagroth lumbered past Madness Canyon, until its tubular body spasmed and bellowed out an anguished screech. The Sword of Eclipse poked through the eel from the inside and sliced a slit across its flesh. Jim and Rob then wriggled out of the incision, along with several other partially digested contents from the Nyarlagroth’s belly.
“The! Dark! Lands! Suck!” muttered Jim as he wiped eel ooze from his armor.
The Nyarlagroth continued past the canyon. Jim watched with surprise as its side stitched itself back together, fully healed within seconds.
“Those things are as tough as they are ugly,” said Rob.
Rob held out his hand for a high-five, but Jim pretended he didn’t see it.
“Look, Rob, back there with the Helheetis I stopped,” Jim began, searching for the right words. “I, um . . . well, I’m sorry about your mom.”
“Oh, that’s okay, Jim,” said Rob. “I don’t know if I mentioned this to you yet, but my mother ate my father a while back, and I still have some unresolved issues around that.”
“Uh, gotcha,” Jim said, trying to hide his bewilderment. “Well, anyway, I guess this is good-bye, Rob.”
Caught off guard, Rob floated over to Jim, studying the Trollhunter’s soot- and slime-streaked face to see if he was joking.
“But-but-but, we’re partners,” Rob whined. “We ride together until the commissioner throws us into lockup for being a couple of loose cannons!”
Jim kept walking, saying nothing.
“Besides, we had a deal!” Rob added. “I lead you through the Darklands, and you take me back to the surface world for the greatest Gun Robot movie marathon since Action Con ’87!”
“Only you didn’t lead me anywhere,” Jim finally said. “And things have changed.”
Jim reached a high outcropping of rock and looked out past Madness Canyon. Beyond the labyrinth below him, he saw the remains of Skarlagk’s fortress, miles away. Even from here, Jim could see the Horde picking at the broken citadel like a carcass. Oily black fumes drifted from its spire like a lopsided chimney, blotting out the Darklands’ photo-negative sun.
“Everything’s changed,” said Jim, his grim stare still fixed on what was left of Skarlagk’s rebellion. “The deal’s off.”
“No it ISN’T,” Jim heard Rob say, the Heetling’s voice building with each word.
Turning around, Jim saw Rob’s flames burning brighter than ever, his face screwed up in anger, before he reverted into his fireball shape.
“HOW DARE YOU?” Rob demanded. “HOW DARE YOU?!”
A great peal of flame arced forth from the fireball, streaking toward Jim. The Trollhunter summoned his shield and endured the blast, gnashing his teeth under the heat. Once the fusillade dissipated
, Jim pivoted and smacked Rob away with the flat of his sword.
“How dare I?” Jim asked, incredulous, as the fireball’s trajectory sent it bouncing off the ground. “Are you serious? Can you think about anyone other than yourself for even a second? What about those babies that are trapped a world away from their families?”
Jim gestured with his sword back toward the charred husk of the fortress and said, “What about Skarlagk and her rebels? They may not have been the friendliest bunch, but even they didn’t deserve what happened to them!”
“It’s like I told ya, rookie,” the fireball said as it started to go supernova. “The only way to survive the Darklands is by killing everything else in the Darklands.”
Rob flew in a wide path around Jim, trailing fire as he went. Coming full circle, Rob joined one end of the flames to the other, creating a blazing ring around the two of them.
“Stay here long enough, and this place will taint you, too,” Rob added.
Jim looked up at the white-hot conflagration surrounding him, its continuous wall of fire reaching way over his head. With no way to jump over or through the inferno, the Trollhunter raised his sword and faced his enemy. The unbearable heat kicked up swirling currents of ash and grit between them.
“Tell me where the portal is, partner,” said Rob. “Point me to the way out, and I’ll point you to the nursery.”
Jim squinted, skeptical, and said, “I don’t believe you. You don’t know where it is. You don’t know where anything is. You’re just some hyperactive liar who’s watched way too many eighties action movies.”
“C’mon,” Rob added quickly, as if he hadn’t heard any of what Jim just said. “Where’d you leave Killahead Bridge? Tell me. Tell me! TELL ME!”
Jim kept quiet. All he could hear was the beating of his own heart, the sounds of trailing embers scorching his armor, and a nearby shriek. The fireball stared like an unblinking eye.
“Okay,” Jim began. “The portal . . . it . . . it’s in the maze.”
“See?” said Rob cheerfully as he turned back into his humanoid shape. “Was that so hard? And the maze, huh? Clever! You must’ve just walked out of there right before I met you.”
“Yep,” Jim replied. “And now you’ll show me where Enrique is?”
Rob shrugged his lit shoulders and said, “Oh yeah, about that . . . see, that was a double cross. It’s a staple of any action flick, as is a killer catchphrase. Like this one: ‘Gun Robot is gunning for YOU, Doctor Despot!’ ”
Rob reverted back into a ball and opened fire on Jim—literally. But the Trollhunter saw it coming and jumped out of the way. The blasts hit the black sand where Jim had just stood, fusing it into a patch of glass. Jim ran toward the fireball and engaged his shield again before jumping. The Trollhunter landed shield-first on top of Rob and pushed himself off the floating orb in a single springing motion. The momentum carried Jim high into the air and over the ring of fire.
He landed clear of the flames on the other side, detached the shield from his gauntlet, and used it to surf down the canyon wall. The sky erupted with flames behind Jim as Rob flew after him. Skidding to a halt at the bottom of Madness Canyon, Jim made a break for the maze dead ahead of him.
“You can’t lose me in there!” Rob called after Jim. “I’ll find you and cook you like a canned ham in your armor!”
Jim zigged and zagged through the labyrinth, trying to put distance between himself and the fireball. But Rob’s voice echoed through the maze.
“Then I’ll use your portal to get to the surface and buy a matinee ticket at the closest movie theater! And then I’ll burn your entire world! But not the movie theater! That place I’ll leave alone!”
Running deeper and deeper into the maze, Jim finally stopped. He had reached a hub from which multiple pathways branched into different directions, like the spokes of a wheel.
“WHERE ARE YOU?” shouted the fireball from nearby. “WHERE ARE YOU??”
His breath ragged from exhaustion, Jim dropped to his knees in front of a cluster of rocks. The labyrinth lit up around him as Rob tracked Jim into the hub.
“Can you feel it?” Rob asked.
Jim remained kneeling, not looking back at Rob. Instead, he glanced to either side, as if waiting for something. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose, splashing on the round, red rocks below him.
“The electric guitars in the rock ’n’ roll score are starting to play,” Rob went on. “The chopper is hovering overhead, and the police cars are racing to the docks of Long Beach Harbor. This is the end of our story, partner.”
“Do I get a final speech?” Jim asked, still on the ground.
He pressed his hands to the labyrinth floor and felt a vibration build under him. Rob, floating in the air, didn’t seem to notice.
“I guess,” Rob said after thinking it over. “But could you do it with Spanish subtitles for our Latin American audiences?”
“I’ll do you one better,” said Jim as he stood up. “I’ll give you the one part of the movie that you forgot.”
“Forgot?” Rob repeated in bewilderment, oblivious to the mounting vibrations beneath his round, levitating form. “What did I leave out?”
“The part right before the very end,” Jim said, his body tensing in anticipation. “When the good guy walks away, and the bad guy gets back up one final time.”
“Oh, you mean the last-minute jump scare!” Rob answered before a deafening shriek split the air.
Several more screeches followed as countless Nyarlagroths snaked out of the passageways surrounding the hub. Jim quickly moved away from the round, red, rocky Nyarlagroth eggs that had been by his knees.
“You tricked me!” Rob cried. “But the trick’s on you! I can just fly outta here!”
The fireball started to zoom away, but Jim recalled his whips into his hands and unfurled them into the air. He wrapped them around Rob and held him fast in place, just as they had done with the Helheetis from the Horde.
“No, you can’t,” said Jim.
The Nyarlagroths all ignored the Trollhunter, focusing instead on the bound sphere of fire shining above them. The sight reminded Jim of the moths he and his mom would sometimes see gathered around their porch lights. Rob struggled to pull free as several sets of teeth nipped and snapped at him, but the whips remained taut.
“NO!” screamed Rob. “You can’t do this! You’ll never defeat me! I’ll see you again! I’ll see you—AT THE MOVIES!”
He shot streams of fire at the eels, which puffed harmlessly against their durable hides.
“Nyarlagroths are fireproof on the outside,” Jim reminded him.
Their lips peeled back in hunger. Their jaws scissored open. And then the largest of the Nyarlagroths ate Rob in a single clapping bite.
“And the inside,” said Jim before he made his whips fade into nothingness.
The other eels turned on the largest, greedily attacking it for the bright thing it had just swallowed. The Trollhunter used the distraction to slip away undetected. As he departed the hub, Jim could still hear Rob’s muffled voice from somewhere inside the Nyarlagroth’s digestive tract. Only the fireball wasn’t talking. He was singing.
“This robot’s heart has been programmed for loooove,” crooned Rob. “Hate does not compute, because you’re supercute. We go together, like a metal hand in a glooooove. . . .”
CHAPTER 18
DRAWN TOGETHER
Jim removed the emerald gem from his chest plate and tossed it into the placid black lake he had found. He didn’t know how long it had taken him to get out of the labyrinth. Minutes, hours, days—in a land without a sunrise, time blurred together into one long nightmare. But in that time, something Rob said lingered with Jim.
Stay here long enough, and this place will taint you, too.
As much as Jim hated to admit it, this was probably the one true thing Rob had ever told him in their brief, chaotic time together. So, when Jim finally exited the maze and found the undisturbed body of wate
r, he was all too happy to get rid of the gem and the whips it had created in his armor.
Jim waded into the lake and sniffed it. It smelled overwhelmingly of sulfur, but seemed otherwise harmless. Cupping the fetid water in his hands, Jim washed away the grime that coated his skin and armor. He caught his rippling reflection and realized he hadn’t seen his own face in the longest time. Jim barely recognized the pale, gaunt, and weary person that stared back at him.
Exiting the lake, Jim retraced his steps and came upon the spot where he had cut his way free of that Nyarlagroth’s belly. Jim retrieved Skarlagk’s satchel from the blob of partially digested muck that followed him out of the creature’s guts. He opened it and found a few more of those gross bladder canteens, as well as the nub of chalk Skarlagk used to draw her maps.
She had a violent way of doing things, Jim thought. But Skarlagk did sorta save my life.
He took her satchel and a length of chain that had also been in the eel’s stomach and walked over to a barren ravine. Along the way, he couldn’t help but think more about Skarlagk. Yes, she had spared him from encountering one monster by tossing Jim inside of another. But Jim wondered if he had maybe saved Skarlagk, in a way, before the end. That last look he saw in her eyes—when she had let go of the revenge that so fueled her life—somehow warmed Jim. He supposed that was maybe how Skarlagk used to look ages ago, when she, too, was sixteen.
Reaching the ravine, Jim anchored the chain around a jagged tusk of rock and climbed down to the ledge. He let the chain hang there, pulled the chalk from the satchel, and marked a white arrow on the wall to keep track of his location. Jim continued along the edge, until he found a recessed alcove that offered privacy and protection. He sank to the alcove floor, his arms and legs aching from overuse.
As he sat there, alone, Jim thought again of those moths by the porch light. That memory was the first time he had allowed himself to think of his mom in days. Pretty soon, AAARRRGGHH!!!, Blinky, Draal, NotEnrique, and especially Toby and Claire flooded back into Jim’s mind. He had tried so hard to keep from remembering his friends—from missing them—because he thought that was the key to surviving the Darklands.
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