The Book of Ga-Huel Read online

  Jim watched as the living Boraz the Bold threw a potbellied, bespectacled Troll over his shoulder and leaped from the pens to the middle of the Colosseum.

  “Watch it, Trollhunter!” cried Bodus, nearly dropping The Book of Ga-Huel onto the arena’s sandy floor. “You’re meant to save my life—not prematurely end it!”

  Dozens of Gumm-Gumms chased after them. They hurled their Parlok Spears at the squealing Bodus, but Boraz the Bold dodged each volley with admirable skill. The spirit version of Boraz winked at Jim and said, “Bet you can’t do that.”

  A Gumm-Gumm roared, “For once, we have no quarrel with you, Trollhunter! Hand over the Dishonorable Bodus so that our general, Gunmar the Black, might discuss his last rites!”

  Both Boraz the Bolds threw back their heads and laughed at the same time. The living Boraz on the field started talking to the Gumm-Gumms. But Jim noticed how the ghostly Boraz beside him mouthed the exact same words, as if he had memorized them.

  “—and that’s why Boraz the Bold will never yield to you! Ever! No matter who gets caught in the crossfire!” said the living Boraz before jumping back into the Gumm-Gumm mob.

  “What’re you doing?!” shrieked Bodus. “Gunmar wants to kill me for every prophecy I’ve ever foretold—especially my latest one about the Triumbric Stones!”

  If the Trollhunter of 70 CE understood what Bodus was saying, he never showed it. He simply roared with another vainglorious laugh and set about subduing the Gumm-Gumms. Boraz the Bold defeated one enemy soldier after another, all while Bodus kicked and screamed in protest. Jim noticed Boraz’s spirit shadow-boxing beside him and, for a moment, it looked like the corporeal Boraz might actually win this gladiatorial Troll fight.

  But then one of the battered Gumm-Gumms got to his feet again and hurled his Parlok Spear, stabbing the Dishonorable Bodus in the back. Within seconds, the author’s body slipped off the Trollhunter’s and shattered into thousands of pieces on the Colosseum floor. Boraz the Bold—both versions of him—could only watch as the Gumm-Gumms retrieved The Book of Ga-Huel from the pile of rubble and escaped into the arena’s warren of underground tunnels.

  “Well, I think my work here is done,” said Boraz’s spirit as his younger self began digging a grave.

  “Your work?!” Jim exclaimed in disbelief. “Boraz, you let Bodus get killed and The Book of Ga-Huel fall into Gunmar’s hands! You didn’t do anything!”

  “First of all, it’s Boraz the Bold,” said Boraz’s ghost. “Say it with me. Boraz the—”

  “I’m not saying it again!” yelled Jim.

  “Some fan you are,” said the jilted spirit. “And second of all—didn’t I?”

  Before Jim could get a word in edgewise, he found himself transported back to the Void. Boraz was nowhere to be seen, thankfully, allowing Jim to mutter, “Geez, what a jerk.”

  “Hey, I heard that!” replied Boraz’s disembodied voice.

  “Aw, pipe down, Boraz the Blowhard!” said a different, much smaller Trollhunter who approached Jim. “You had your chance to teach the rookie. Now it’s my turn.”

  “And you are . . . ?” asked Jim hesitantly.

  The short Troll stood akimbo and boasted, “I am Merlin’s greatest champion! I am he who laughs in the face of danger. I am . . . Unkar!”

  “Oh no,” said Jim as he felt his body depart the Void once more.

  CHAPTER 7

  GAGGLETACKED

  “I don’t like it,” Toby said in the Hero’s Forge. “Jim’s been in there way too long!”

  Claire had to agree. Every time she looked at the Soothscryer, its red gem eyes gave her the creeps. It felt like Jim had vanished into the relic hours ago. But when Claire checked her phone, she saw he’d only been gone for less than thirty minutes.

  Standing behind Toby and Claire, Blinky and AAARRRGGHH!!! killed time by studying the page depicting Blinky’s death. As before, inky drawings of Jim, Toby, Claire, AAARRRGGHH!!!, and Draal all stood in sorrow around their friend’s lifeless and crumbled stone body.

  “There . . . certainly is a great attention to detail,” Blinky said, trying to sound positive.

  He forced himself to scrutinize each brutal brushstroke in the hope of uncovering some new bit of information, some potential loophole out of his looming fate. The funeral scene did, indeed, take place in some unfamiliar location. But this time, Blinky noticed something new. His six eyes squinted and saw words written on the crime scene’s barren, cinderblock walls.

  “That’s Trollspeak,” Blinky said. “An antiquated Blocking Spell, if I’m not mistaken. But those cinderblocks would appear to indicate a human structure. How very bizarre . . .”

  “Maybe it’s better if you don’t keep looking at that page, Blinky,” Toby suggested.

  “Y-yes, Tobias, perhaps it is,” admitted Blinky. “I know it sounds foolish, but I had hoped that The Book of Ga-Huel might show some different outcome for me this time. But such magical thinking is ludicrous! I . . . I fear I’m losing my mind, my friends.”

  “No, that’s what it wants you to think,” said Claire flatly. “Us humans have a saying: ‘A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.’ We don’t know the whole story yet, and so The Book of Ga-Huel has you questioning yourself. But you can’t give in to doubt, Blink.”

  Stirred, Blinky got to his feet, punched two fists into his other two hands, and declared, “By Gorgus, you’re right! Enough of this pointless second-guessing! As soon as Master Jim emerges from that Soothscryer, we shall all unite arm-in-arm, take up the flags of unyielding hope and optimism and—”

  “Halt, by the order of the queen!” shouted one of the many Krubera soldiers now rushing into the Hero’s Forge.

  “—and I’m deader than Disco,” Blinky finished miserably.

  “Go!” AAARRRGGHH!!! roared at Toby and Claire.

  “What about you two?” ask Toby.

  “We Trolls will be fine,” said Blinky, urgently blocking the Kruberas’ view of Toby and Claire with his body. “But you will not. Now heed AAARRRGGHH!!!’s advice and go!”

  Toby looked down, seeing a shadow portal open beneath his and Claire’s feet. Both teens fell into it and disappeared, just as Queen Usurna stormed into the Forge.

  • • •

  Claire and Toby shadow-jumped back into Strickler’s office. Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the windows, and the halls outside had long since cleared of students.

  “This place again?” Toby whined. “What’s the matter, Claire? One near-death experience at school today isn’t enough for you?”

  “Hilarious. You and NotEnrique should go on tour together,” quipped Claire.

  She went back to Strickler’s desk and started checking under tidy stacks of paper and inside the drawers. As Claire searched, she said, “This’s where we found The Book of Ga-Huel in the first place. Maybe there’s another clue here to help us save Blinky.”

  “Good thinking. Don’t forget Strickler’s secret room behind the bookcase,” said Toby.

  Claire rifled through school supplies and said, “Yeah, but to open that, we’d need a Changeling Key. And a Changeling to use it. . . .”

  “Ugh. On second thought, never mind,” Toby said sourly.

  He pulled out what looked like a metal horseshoe from his backpack and added, “I’ve had enough of Changelings after that close call at the Janus Order. If any of those shape-shifters tries to get the drop on us again, I’ll zap ’em with this Gaggletack and expose their true form!”

  “Aren’t you being a little paranoid?” Claire asked, shutting the last drawer.

  Toby opened his mouth to answer, but jumped in place when a different, much louder voice echoed through the school. Claire said, “Was that Señor Uhl?”

  Toby cocked his ear toward the hallway and heard what he guessed was a long string of German expletives.

  “Um, sí,” Toby confirmed.

  They cracked open Strickler’s door and peered down the hall. Uhl’s shadow paced in front of his frosted
glass windowpane. Toby and Claire traded a nervous look, then tiptoed over.

  “. . . they will pay,” Uhl’s invisible guest said. “Tomorrow, the return shall be complete.”

  Claire and Toby looked at each other again, then at the Gaggletack still clutched like a talisman in Toby’s hand.

  “By ‘they,’ do they mean us? And by ‘return,’ do they mean Gunmar?” Toby whispered.

  “Are you saying Uhl’s a Changeling?” Claire whispered back.

  Toby pointed back toward Strickler’s office and whisper-shouted, “He wouldn’t be the first teacher here that’s actually a Troll spy in disguise!”

  “This is big,” said Claire, trying to process it all. “We need to tell Jim and the others.”

  Toby nodded in emphatic agreement, and they started edging away from Uhl’s classroom—only to back into someone standing right behind them. Shrieking in surprise, Claire cocked her fists, while Toby dropped the Gaggletack onto his toe.

  “I’m new here!” said Ellie Stemhower in a rush, holding a clipboard in front of her face.

  Claire’s sighed in relief at the sight of Ellie. Beside them, Toby hopped on one foot. He gave Ellie the same goofy, love-struck smile despite the throbbing pain in his toe.

  “Ellie! What’re you doing here?” asked Claire.

  “Processing a serious backlog of student late fees,” Ellie said, consulting her clipboard. “Do either of you know an Elijah Leslie Pepperjack? That kid’s checked out every single book on Mythology, Cryptozoology, and the Solar System! Plus one on coping with bullies and—ooh, what’s that?”

  Ellie knelt and picked up the Gaggletack. The horseshoe felt heavy, smooth, and cool against the flesh of her right hand as she gave it back to Toby.

  “Um, would you believe it’s a very big good luck charm?” asked Toby.

  “Try telling that to your toe,” Ellie snorted.

  Toby burst into laughter—like, way too much laughter—prompting Claire to shake her head. Ellie said, “Well, back to the card catalogues. If you don’t see me in a few days, call the National Guard!”

  “Heh, ‘National Guard,’ ” Toby repeated, admiring Ellie as she walked away. “What a fun sense of humor. And stylish, too! Did you see that red nail polish?”

  “No,” said a thickly accented voice.

  Toby and Claire turned slowly and discovered Señor Uhl seething in the open doorway to his empty classroom. He reached behind his back and said, “What I see are two students in violation of our school’s ‘no after-hours trespassing’ policy. And the price for that is . . .”

  Toby and Claire hugged each other and shut their eyes, too terrified to see what lethal Changeling torture device Uhl was about to inflict upon them. But when their teacher brought forward his hand again, it merely held two yellow slips of paper.

  “Detention,” finished Señor Uhl with a sadistic smile.

  CHAPTER 8

  HOW UNFORTUNATE

  Jim dangled from the edge of the bassinet in the Darklands again. His Eclipse-armored fingers slipped against the chains. And his parched throat could only produce strangled little pleas even though he very much wanted to shout for help at the moment.

  The panicked Trollhunter pulled himself fully onto the bassinet, his biceps burning. He tried to catch his breath. Delirious, Jim’s vision swam in and out of focus, when something bright flickered at him. It was a golden rectangle bolted onto the other end of the bassinet. Drawn to its glow, Jim leaned closer.

  Then he felt the bassinet chains snap, and Jim Lake Jr. plunged into infinite darkness.

  • • •

  Jim landed with a start. He found himself on a patch of damp, leafy earth. He could see clearly. What’s more, he discovered that he could shout again.

  “Aaaaah!” cried Jim as he scrambled to his feet.

  In addition to the change of scenery, the Trollhunter also noticed that he was back in his Daylight Armor, not the Eclipse version. He mopped sweat off his brow, although Jim couldn’t tell if it came from fright or from the increased humidity in this new place—wherever it was. Jim saw a dense canopy of trees overhead, which blocked out the last of the setting sun.

  “Had yourself a nightmare, did you?” said Unkar’s spirit, which now stood beside Jim. “Waking dreams are sometimes a side effect of these Void Visitations.”

  Jim heard rustling in the treetops and the faraway caws of tropical birds before asking, “Where did you take me?”

  “Not where, human Trollhunter, but when!” corrected Unkar, who then paused, appearing momentarily confused. “Actually, I guess it’s where and when. Because we traveled through time and space and—look, kid, we’re in the Yucatán Peninsula around 200 CE, okay?”

  “Okay, okay,” said Jim defensively. “Can I at least ask why you brought me here?”

  “Oh, for Kilfred’s sake! Always with the questions, this one is!” groused Unkar.

  The ghostly Trollhunter grabbed Jim’s arm and pulled him deeper into the rain forest. They climbed over downed logs and sidestepped snares of roots until they reached a clearing. There, Jim saw a towering stone temple situated in the middle of the jungle. Vines snaked along its steps, and perched golden statues of Mayan gods caught the last of the sinking sun’s red light.

  Jim then felt a rumble beneath his feet before a gyre burst out of the ground at the base of the temple. The Troll vehicle’s circular metal bands slowed to a stop, and Jim now saw that its pilot was none other than Unkar.

  “That’s why,” said the ghostly Unkar at his side.

  The spying pair moved closer to the Mayan temple, while the living, breathing Unkar exited the gyre. He raised his armored fists into the air and announced, “Behold! Your champion has arrived! Make way for Unkar the Ultimate!”

  Unkar the Ultimate took one step forward, tripped, and fell flat on his face.

  “Stop laughing!” Unkar’s spirit shouted at Jim, who couldn’t help it.

  Stifling a few more giggles, Jim then noticed how the rain forest’s birds squawked and flew away in a great hurry. Seconds later, a bevy of vine-covered Jungle Trolls descended upon Unkar’s prone body. But in one graceful maneuver, the tiny Trollhunter rolled off the ground, formed the Sword of Daylight in his hand, and cleaved through the first wave of enemies.

  “Whoa!” Jim gasped.

  “Not bad for my first day on the job,” agreed Unkar’s spirit as he polished his armor.

  “Taste the cold, metal sting of my umbrage, you dundering clods!” said the living Unkar to the Jungle Trolls. “You witless louts! You pathetic jackanapes!”

  “That’s, uh, that’s a lot of name-calling there, Unkar,” said Jim to his ghost guide.

  “Psychological warfare,” Unkar’s spirit explained. “Softens ’em up before the final blow. Now let’s follow him—I—me—myself—whatever into the temple!”

  As the corporeal Unkar hacked his way into the Mayan temple, Jim’s mind raced. He had barely been able to wrap his head around the events Boraz the Bold showed him at the Roman Colosseum. And now he was wading through Jungle Trolls in the middle of Central America?

  How long have I even been gone? thought Jim. I’ve got to get back to the Forge. To my friends. I hope Blinky’s okay. That I’m not too late. That he’s not already d—

  Jim couldn’t bear to finish the idea. His attention returned to the temple, where Unkar the Ultimate had successfully fought his way through an entire army of Jungle Trolls. Bruised and out of breath, the scrappy Trollhunter reached the interior. Torches lit up the enclosed space, which was devoid of any furniture—save for a lone pedestal situated in the middle of the floor. Jim’s eyes widened when he saw The Book of Ga-Huel resting on top of it.

  “But . . . but I don’t understand!” Jim stammered. “Why’s it here? I thought Gunmar’s soldiers took The Book of Ga-Huel after they killed Bodus!”

  “Gadzooks! Didn’t Boraz teach you anything in the Colosseum?” griped Unkar’s ghost.

  “No!” yelled Jim. �
�I clearly learned nothing! Nothing at—”

  He stopped talking. A sudden thought—a niggling little notion—had been clinging on to the tip of his brain. Jim closed his eyes to better concentrate and connect the dots between what he had seen so far.

  “Oh please, human Trollhunter! Do go on!” said Unkar’s ghost in mock interest.

  “I think I’ve got it,” Jim resumed. “Gunmar first wanted The Book of Ga-Huel because it might reveal to Orlagk that Gunmar would one day betray him. Spar the Spiteful got in the way—that’s why he died. And Bodus must have escaped with the book and come up with the Triumbric Stones—the only way to defeat Gunmar—as a way to protect himself. But Gunmar’s soldiers still managed to kill Bodus at the Colosseum and take the book.”

  “Getting warmer,” said Unkar’s ghost, while his younger self approached the pedestal.

  Jim opened his eyes and said a little less certainly, “And now The Book of Ga-Huel is in this temple because . . . because . . . because the humidity is good for the paper?”

  Unkar’s spirit slapped the back of Jim’s head and shouted, “WRONG! See if you can keep up here, kid, will ya? The Jungle Trolls work for Gunmar. He gave it to them for safekeeping in this temple, so that no one else would find it. And before you ask, ‘Oh, Unkar, why didn’t Gunmar just destroy the book?’ do us all a favor and think about it. If you had a book that revealed a few bad things about you—but that also told the future—would you destroy it?”

  Jim stopped and considered the question, partly because it was important, and partly because he didn’t want to get slapped in the head again.

  What would I do with a book that told the future? Jim thought. I’d probably just use it to check on Mom and my friends and make sure they’re all gonna be okay. But . . . but if it showed me something terrible was going to happen—like with poor Blinky—what would that mean for the rest of our time together? How could we ever go to the movies or, I don’t know, just laugh together, knowing what was waiting for us?

  Jim looked back at his guide with a conflicted frown. Unkar’s ghost merely nodded in understanding and once again said, “That’s why.”