Age of the Amulet

by Richard Ashley Hamilton

  “Gettin’ better, Gogun!” Claire encouraged from the sidelines.

  Gogun lowered the branch and took a bow, but lost his balance and fell over once more.

  Jim covered his face with his hand and said, “Again.”

  • • •

  Golden rays of late-afternoon sunlight filtered into the forest as Jim and Gogun now sparred with two sticks. Jim intentionally moved slower than normal, allowing the elderly Troll to deflect each pretend blow.

  “Good,” Jim said. “Just make sure to watch your flanks. Gumm-Gumms love to stab their enemies in the back.”

  Proud of himself, Gogun held the branch sideways like a cane and started tap-dancing in the middle of the forest. Claire clapped along, until Jim shot her a dirty look.

  “How many times do I have to tell you? Please stop dancing,” Jim said, covering his face anew. “And again.”

  • • •

  With the sunset now reddening the sky over the forest, Jim and Claire watched Gogun successfully complete an attack/defense combo, roll forward on the leafy ground, and plant his sword-stick into a log that sort of looked like a dead Gumm-Gumm.

  “Awesomesauce!” Jim and Claire applauded together.

  Slightly out of breath, Gogun said, “You know, you’re not a bad teacher, Kim.”

  Claire snorted, but quickly recovered when she saw Jim glowering at her.

  “I’m not laughing,” she fibbed. “That was a sneeze. Ah-choo again.”

  “My. Name. Is. Jim,” Jim said to Gogun between clenched teeth.

  “Really?” Gogun said, legitimately surprised. “I thought I heard you say ‘Kim.’ ”

  “Jim,” Jim repeated through his grinding jaws.

  “Oh. Well. Sorry.” Gogun shrugged. “Either way, I think we can stop training now.”

  He looked sideways and saw an unconvinced Jim glaring back at him. So Gogun flexed his arms like a body builder and started strutting around the forest with feigned confidence. He then added, “Yeah, I’ve, uh, never felt so lethal. And thanks to you, I now appreciate the, er, sacred obligation of the Trollhunter and solemnly swear to uphold and—oooh, kitties!”

  Jim and Claire watched slack-jawed as Gogun ran over to a bush and cradled the litter of kittens that had just pounced out of it. He scratched behind their furry little ears with the tip of his stone finger and nuzzled their purring bellies with his nose.

  “Hewwo, dere!” Gogun baby-talked to the cats. “Who’s a cute widdle kitten? You are!”

  “I thought Trolls ate cats,” Claire finally said, still wrapping her head around the sight.

  “And humans,” Gogun said with a bitter edge. “Guess I’m not like other Trolls, hmm?”

  “No. No, you’re not,” Jim said with mounting annoyance.

  “I’m going to name you ‘Shmorkrarg,’ ” Gogun told one of the kittens. “Oh yes, I am!”

  Claire looked at the dusk and said, “If we’re going to make our move, it’s now or never.”

  “Right,” Jim replied as the future Trollhunter rolled on the ground with the kittens. “C’mon, Gogun. Time for some on-the-job training.”

  • • •

  By the light of the rising moon, Jim, Claire, and Gogun followed the gargantuan footprints left by all five Tellad-Urr the Terribles to a towering hill.

  “Glastonbury Tor,” Jim said as they reached the summit and looked around.

  “Never much cared for Glastonberries, I don’t mind telling you,” Gogun commented with a sour face. “Too tart for my tastes.”

  “Thanks for that information,” snarked Jim. “Super helpful.”

  Claire elbowed Jim’s side and cocked her head in a clear gesture toward Gogun. Be nice. Jim massaged his ribs, then moved over to a cluster of monolithic boulders at the top of the Tor.

  “This must be where they Horngazel in and out of their Trollmarket,” Jim said, pressing his palms against the smooth rock. “I guess we just have to wait for a new portal to open and—”

  Jim cut off when he heard a distinct meow from the other side of the boulder. Craning his head around it, he saw Gogun sitting cross-legged on the hill, playing with the kittens that were now crawling out of his smock.

  “You brought them with you?!” Jim yelled.

  “Uh, yeah,” Gogun replied, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “I mean, you try looking into Shmorkrarg’s fuzzy little face and telling her no. It’s not so easy!”

  “She is pretty cute,” Claire admitted before a strange sense of foreboding overtook her body. “Everybody hide. Now!”

  Jim jumped behind the boulder alongside Claire, Gogun, and the kittens as the atmosphere around Glastonbury Tor darkened. They peered around the side and saw a portal manifest out of thin air.

  “That doesn’t look like any Horngazel passage I’ve ever seen,” said Jim.

  “That’s because it’s not,” Claire said. “I don’t know how, but I can feel it in my bones—that’s a shadow portal!”

  Jim, Claire, and Gogun ducked once more as a black hole dilated on the other side of the boulder. Thunder rumbled, and Tellad-Urr the Terrible emerged, clutching the Shadow Staff.

  “Oh no,” Jim said, his voice below a whisper. “How can this day get any worse?”

  Lightning flashed in the sky, illuminating two other Trolls who now climbed the opposite end of the hill and joined Tellad-Urr. Jim’s and Claire’s faces drained of color as they recognized the hunched newcomers in the next strobe of lightning.

  “You were supposed to be alone,” said Tellad-Urr to the largest of the two figures. “That was our arrangement.”

  “I dictate the terms, Terrible One,” replied Gunmar the Black. “Now watch your tone. I won’t suffer any who speak with such disrespect to me—or my heir.”

  The sky flashed again, revealing in full the horrible visages of the Gumm-Gumm general and his wild-eyed son, Bular.

  CHAPTER 11

  DORKSTONE GRENADES

  “Well, well, well,” said Strickler with a disappointed tsk. “Why am I not surprised?”

  He, Nomura, and NotEnrique looked upon Steve and Eli as Main Street went up in flames around them. The Creepslayerz clutched each other on the park lawn, and Eli stuttered, “A-a-aren’t you the nice lady who works at the history museum?”

  “And so much more,” Nomura purred. “But you’d better hand over any other Troll contra-band before you inadvertently blow it up, too.”

  The wail of oncoming sirens drowned out the last of her words. The Arcadia Oaks Police and Fire Departments arrived in a hurry, parking their cars and engines haphazardly along Main Street. Strickler’s eyes narrowed when they spied Detective Scott emerge from one of the squad cars.

  “You were right to contact us,” Strickler said to NotEnrique. “You and Nomura stay here with young Steven and Elijah while I handle Detective Scott. The last thing we need right now is someone tracing this fiasco back to the warehouse.”

  “You’re going to talk to the cops?” groused Steve. “But you’re . . . you’re . . .”

  “Still an upstanding, law-abiding citizen of Arcadia Oaks, as far as anyone else knows,” Strickler finished, his eyes flashing yellow before reverting to a more human appearance.

  Stunned by their former teacher’s peepers, the Creepslayerz watched Strickler trot over to Detective Scott—until NotEnrique slapped both of them along the backs of their heads.

  “You heard ’im,” said the green imp. “Turn out yer pockets, cosplayers.”

  “That’s Creepslayerz—with a z,” Steve insisted.

  He and Eli grudgingly handed over everything they had taken from RotGut’s crates. NotEnrique rummaged through the small mountain of “borrowed” Troll goods, taking inventory.

  “Let’s see here,” said NotEnrique. “We got four old, dirty, rusted swords—”

  “Greco-Roman spathas,” Nomura corrected.

  “One Horngazel key,” NotEnrique continued. “One Glamour Mask—”

  “What’
s that do?” Steve interrupted, pointing at the odd, Tiki-like Troll mask.

  “Changes yer appearance,” said NotEnrique. “If yer not lucky enough to be a natural-born shape-shifter like yours truly. And it’s a good thing ya didn’t break it. I went through a lot of trouble to find that thing!”

  Steve looked back at the firefighters hosing down Alex’s Arcade. Beside them, he saw Strickler having a friendly chat with Detective Scott. Steve thought he overheard mention of a “gas main leak” before they shook hands, and Strickler returned to the relative privacy of the park.

  “Did they fall for the ‘gas main leak’ bit?” asked Nomura.

  “Hook, line, and Strickler,” smirked Strickler. “That excuse is an oldie, but a goodie. Now we just have to find a way to return Kilfred and his gaggle of irate Trolls back to the warehouse. But I fear nothing short of Gunmar himself will scare them back into hiding. They are fearless right now.”

  NotEnrique fixed a suspicious look at the Creepslayerz and asked, “You two got anything else tucked away in yer undies?”

  “Just this cool necklace I found,” said Eli, putting his head through the loop of twine.

  The Changelings’ eyes bulged in alarm before Strickler shouted, “No, Eli, don’t!”

  But it was too late. Eli now wore the necklace.

  “What’s the big deal?” Steve asked NotEnrique.

  Eli’s eye twitched. Animal noises gurgled from his throat, and his body convulsed.

  “That’s no mere necklace,” Strickler said. “The Grit-Shaka banishes all fear from Trolls in times of war.”

  “Oh yeah?” said Steve as Eli ran around in hyperactive circles in front of them. “And what’s it do to humans?”

  As if on cue, Eli stopped moving, his back to the group. They watched in apprehension as he calmly straightened his posture, removed his glasses, and swept back his hair. In one smooth motion, Eli spun on his heels, snapped his fingers, and flashed everyone a wide, debonair smile.

  “Eli?” asked Steve.

  “Call me ‘Romeo,’ ” Eli said, winking at Miss Nomura.

  NotEnrique cracked up again. As Eli strutted over to the pile of confiscated Troll gear and picked up the Horngazel, Steve explained, “Pepperwhack was up for the lead role in Romeo and Juliet, until Lake scored it with that preppy armor of his.”

  “All right, Romeo,” said Strickler. “Playtime’s over. Put down the Horngazel and remove the Grit-Shaka at once.”

  “Nah, I don’t think so, Walt,” Eli retorted. “Someone’s gotta stop those Trolls and that someone . . . is Romeo!”

  Without warning, Eli gallantly dipped Ms. Nomura and planted a kiss right on her lips.

  “Oi!” yelled NotEnrique as Eli grabbed him by the scruff and ran off down Main Street.

  “Eli—I mean, Romeo!” Steve called after him. “Where’re you going?”

  “I’m gonna find that Gunmar guy Walt just mentioned!” Eli shouted before disappearing around the corner with NotEnrique. “And then I’m gonna Pepperjack him up!”

  CHAPTER 12

  HEAVY METAL

  “What did you just say?” growled Gunmar.

  “I said you don’t frighten me, Gumm-Gumm,” Tellad-Urr sneered. “Nor does your brute of a son.”

  From their hiding place behind the boulders, Jim, Claire, and Gogun heard Bular snarl and step toward the dark Trollhunter—only for his father to hold him back with a single hand.

  “Let me devour him, father!” Bular roared. “I’ll crack open his red shell and sup on the quivering marrow inside! Then use his bones as toothpicks to scrape the sinew from my fangs!”

  “Your obscene bloodlust fills my black heart with pride, son,” said Gunmar. “But I shall be the one to unmake him.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” the scarlet Trollhunter replied. “Not while I have these.”

  Tellad-Urr signaled, and more enslaved Trolls slumped out of the black hole carting those wheelbarrows. Only now, Jim noticed, they carried polished weapons, not iron scraps.

  “Crafted from human metal, forged in the crystal furnaces of our Trollmarket,” Tellad-Urr said. “You should now have enough to arm every member of your uprising. I’ve held up my end of our bargain, Gunmar. You do the same.”

  Bular greedily snatched two matching swords—each fitted with a bone hilt—and slashed them through the air. Gogun shivered, hearing the blades sing from behind the boulder.

  “Father, I want these,” said Bular.

  “Keep them,” Gunmar said. “May they ever drip with the blood of your enemies.”

  Claire’s eyes focused on the Shadow Staff—her Shadow Staff—in Tellad-Urr’s grasp, then on the browbeaten Trolls shipping additional weapons back and forth through the portal. She bent close to Jim and whispered, “That’s our ticket into their Trollmarket.”

  “We’re gonna have to time this just right,” Jim said back. “Follow me and keep low!”

  Before Gogun could protest, Jim shoved him out from behind the boulder. Claire kept close behind, careful to remain out of their enemies’ sights. They’d nearly reached the gateway when everyone heard a soft mew. Jim’s blood ran cold.

  “Quiet, Shmorkie!” Gogun whisper-scolded.

  The son of Gunmar unsheathed his new swords and began prowling Glastonbury Tor, while his father argued with the dark Trollhunter in the background.

  “You still haven’t answered to my satisfaction, Gunmar,” said Tellad-Urr.

  As Bular stalked closer, Jim hurried Claire and Gogun (and the mewling kittens) behind one of the emptied wheelbarrows that had been left off to the side. With chained Trolls passing around them and Bular getting ever nearer, Jim and Claire climbed inside.

  “My word is my bond, Tellad-Urr,” they heard Gunmar say. “The Gumm-Gumms will depart quietly and without reprisal, and your Trollhunting duties will be at an end—once I have murdered Orlagk and assumed control of his armies, that is.”

  Gogun tried to crawl in after Jim and Claire but didn’t fit. His voice low due to Bular’s proximity, Jim said, “You’ve gotta blend in with the other Trolls and push us into that portal!”

  Claire saw the indecision in the elder Troll’s eyes and said, “Do it for Shmorkie, Gogun.”

  Bular loped over to the train of wheelbarrows funneling to and fro, his twin swords glinting in the moonlight, his back turned to the three trespassers.

  Mew.

  Bular’s head whipped around at once. But all he saw was the back of an old, hobbling Troll in a smock disappearing through the black hole.

  • • •

  Gogun didn’t stop hyperventilating until well after he had stumbled out of the other end of the shadow portal.

  • • •

  “You did good, Gogun,” complimented Jim, his pulse still racing. “Worthy of a Trollh—”

  “Don’t say it!” Gogun cried.

  “Gogun,” began Claire, before a new series of hacking coughs derailed her. “Can you show us where our friends might—”

  A loud sniffing noise came from just around the corner. Jim stood protectively in front of Claire as a hulking silhouette stepped in front of them.

  “Oh no! It’s him! He’s back for my kitties!” Gogun shrieked. “AAAIIIEEE!!!”

  “Not ‘AAAIIIEEE!!!,’ ” said the huge Troll in front of them. “It’s ‘AAARRRGGHH!!!’ ”

  Jim and Claire broke into relieved smiles as the backlit figure stepped forward, and AAARRRGGHH!!!’s warm face grinned back at them. Blinky and Toby rushed in behind him.

  “Master Jim! Claire!” said Blinky, overjoyed.

  “You guys made it!” Toby gushed, hugging them as hard as he could.

  With everyone so wrapped up in their reunion, they failed to notice Gogun. He collected his kittens back under his smock and tiptoed off to the side.

  “Likewise, Tobes!” Jim said. “We thought we were gonna have to rescue you from Tellad-Urr. Only it looks like you’re doing fine without us. . . .”

  Jim th
en saw the many freed Trolls gathered behind Blinky, adding, “And like you made some new friends.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t call them friends, necessarily,” said Blinky. “More like acquaintances we met during our brief incarceration. In fact, Master Jim, until today, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen any of these . . . Trolls . . . before . . .”

  Blinky’s voice trailed off as he spotted two young Trolls wandering between the other released prisoners. Both were boys, both had four arms, and both had six eyes—just like Blinky. The youngest of the two seemed lost, frightened, until his older sibling handed him a book. They turned its pages together, the little one now smiling in reassurance as his big brother taught him how to read.

  “Dictatious?” Blinky uttered in recognition, his voice barely audible. “Then that means the younger one is . . . Great Gronka Morka!”

  “Great Gronka Morka!” the other Trolls immediately chanted. “Great Gronka Morka!”

  “What in the world is that about?” asked Claire.

  “Holy Toby, is that a long story,” sighed Toby.

  As the released Trolls continued their mantra, Jim said to his friends, “Guys, there’s someone you’ve gotta meet. Please say ‘hello’ to Gogun the . . .”

  Jim drew everyone’s attention to the spot Gogun had occupied, only to find it empty.

  “Gone?” Jim finished in surprise, the old dancing Troll nowhere in sight.

  CHAPTER 13

  WHEREFORE ART THOU, ROMEO?

  “Where’d Pepperjerk go?” said Steve as he, Strickler, and Nomura searched through the woods by Main Street.

  About fifty feet ahead of them, Eli bounded through the trees, keeping NotEnrique in a headlock. The little Changeling squirmed and said, “Oi! If you don’t lemme go, I swear—”

  “Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly!” Eli quoted before flipping gracefully over a fallen log and sticking the landing.

  Reaching the opposite end of the woods, Eli kicked on his Zip-Slippers. He skated down the Arcadia dry canal and wheeled to a suave stop in front of a concrete wall.