BooksBarbecue
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

Jack, forever thirteen, trained every day, every year, ever watchful, ever paranoid. He was the only one not surprised several months before when the Eye of Malevolence showed them Gunmar’s slow trek back from the bowels of the earth. Jack had made speeches in Troll City, but nobody listened. The trolls there had become fat, complacent, consumed with their food and trinkets, and certain that nothing like the Gumm-Gumm War could happen again.

So defensive efforts were up to Jack, Blinky, and ARRRGH!!!. As Gunmar’s power grew, Jack decided with great regret that Jim would have to be tested for paladin potential. But Jack had figured on having months, even years, to properly train his nephew. Now with the news of a bridge being reconstructed in the San Bernardino Historical Society Museum, those months and years had been shaved down to mere days.

The Killaheed Bridge had been the ancestral home of Gunmar the Black in the far northern region of Scotland known in Gaelic as A’ Ghàidhealtachd. It is where he murdered every blood relative, erasing his surname in favor of “the Black,” and began the Gumm-Gumm cult with himself as the principal deity. The bridge was the nexus of his ancient power, and its shipment from across the ocean toward California must be what was powering his quick regeneration and drawing weak-minded trolls, a new army of Gumm-Gumms, back under his influence.

For months, trolls had been infiltrating San Bernardino at night and creating havoc. Nothing so far as abduction, not yet, but Jack, Blinky, and ARRRGH!!! had been kept busy enough that they’d had little chance to search out Gunmar himself. It had been a gamble revealing themselves to Jim, and, inadvertently, Tub. But in war, such wagers were necessary. This was the lot of the trollhunters.

(Trollhunters. I couldn’t help smiling a little. I liked the sound of it.)

21.

Jack waited for us in an unlit clearing with the burlap sack over his shoulder. The clay wall before him was cracked to reveal patches of intricate tile mosaics and begrimed frescoes created by troll artists of yesteryear. Entering this clearing from the tunnel was like traveling from throat to stomach; the rumble of motor vehicles, somewhere far above us, completed the illusion.

He seemed smaller inside that scrap-metal armor than he had before, more the dimensions of an adolescent boy than an inscrutable devil. Surely he had heard our approach, yet he did not react. I was about to say something when I noticed a group of trolls off to the right. Tub and I skittered aside, but Blinky and ARRRGH!!! showed no alarm. In fact, in their strange faces I saw pity.

It was the same routine I’d seen in the red-light district. These trolls stood in a trance before a leaning tower of flickering, half-busted TVs, their faces pressed to the sets, their long tongues lapping at the screens.