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Back Trollhunters Save as PDF
Chapters (51)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. Part I
  8. 1.
  9. 2.
  10. 3.
  11. 4.
  12. 5.
  13. 6.
  14. 7.
  15. 8.
  16. 9.
  17. 10.
  18. Part II
  19. 11.
  20. 12.
  21. 13.
  22. 14.
  23. 15.
  24. 16.
  25. 17.
  26. 18.
  27. Part III
  28. 19.
  29. 20.
  30. 21.
  31. 22.
  32. 23.
  33. 24.
  34. 25.
  35. 26.
  36. 27.
  37. 28.
  38. 29.
  39. 30.
  40. 31.
  41. 32.
  42. Part IV
  43. 33.
  44. 34.
  45. 35.
  46. 36.
  47. 37.
  48. 38.
  49. 39.
  50. 40.
  51. About the Author

Never again would I mistake a Scottish accent for an English one. I zeroed in on the source of the cry and found Claire to the right of Gunmar’s throne. Not Claire exactly, but her head. Yes, for a few surreal seconds I believed her severed head was calling to me, which I took to mean that I had just been killed and was in fantasyland. But no, she was alive, though for some reason I could only see her face poking over the edge of the plateau. Behind her I saw the twisting heads of other kids, at least a dozen of them. There was no cage, no other trolls but Gunmar—why weren’t they running?

From behind us came the squeal of unlubricated metal gears. From above, the sputter of a pipe pushing along its last specks of sausage. The Machine was empty and in need of fresh fuel.

ARRRGH!!! patted the boulder lodged in her skull.

“Gunmar! Fight! Now!”

“FIRSSSSSST,” Gunmar rasped past his forked tongue, “MY FRIENDSSSSSS.”

Emerging from beneath the shadow of the plateau was a dizzying gallery of trolls, horrors of doubled jaws and compound eyes and swaying silica. They dragged clubs and bludgeons and chains. The braids of their hair were hardened by dried blood and their bodies had mutated from residing too close to Gunmar: scabs birthed extra eyes, sores sprouted extra fingers, rashes gleamed with newly grown teeth. There were Nullhullers, Ğräçæĵøĭvőd’ñůý, Wormbeards, Yarbloods, Zunnn, and scads of other weak-willed rogues that made up this new generation of Gumm-Gumms. So it was with surprise that I overheard Jack’s mutter of disbelief.

“That’s it? That’s all there is?”

“Underestimate Gumm-Gumms at your own peril,” Blinky warned. “Perhaps the Hungry One has not had sufficient time to amass the number of followers we’d estimated. Let us take this as good news and leave it at that, eh?”

Jack clashed together his swords. “Agreed.”

He unleashed his battle cry and the other trollhunters did the same. In a practiced motion they fanned outward in triangle formation, ARRRGH!!! to the right, bowling over three Gumm-Gumms with a single fist; Blinky to the left, tripping up foes with his whiplike tentacles; and Jack on point, swirling his swords like lassos. Instantly the atmosphere thickened with the whump of pounded muscle, the clash of colliding weaponry, and the invigorating ripping noise of softies being separated from necks.