Angor Reborn

by Richard Ashley Hamilton

  A gray-streaked figure pounced out of the woods and landed in front of him. It wasn’t Jim. It was Sir Barks. Angor Rot was confused. He looked up just in time to see the Trollhunter bounding high over the trees in his Moonlight Armor.

  “Surprise!” Jim yelled as his jumping stilts slammed right into Angor Rot.

  The impact sent the unsuspecting Troll rolling across the mud. Jim used the momentum to backflip and land with perfect balance. Like supercharged pogo sticks, the stilts gave their wearer the ability to clear a hundred feet in a single, thrilling jump before he’d land and spring forward again. Sir Barks hadn’t been so crazy about the constant up and down from the museum to the lake. But to Jim, the Moonlight Armor’s means of locomotion was thrilling—almost as thrilling as watching Angor Rot struggle in the slippery mud.

  “I see you’ve come to our final fight armed with new wonders,” spat the mercenary.

  He pulled four prepared fetishes from his belt and threw them into the muck between them. A quartet of Mud Golems formed quickly and waddled toward Jim and Sir Barks.

  “You have no idea,” said Jim.

  Jim summoned a new weapon from his Amulet. More orbs sparked out of the ticking disc and formed into a metallic longbow. The armor then generated a quiver of streamlined arrows on Jim’s back. In one fluid motion, the Trollhunter nocked an arrow in his bowstring, pulled it tight, and released. The arrow shot through the air and into a Golem, piercing its totem. The mud being made a squelching sound and shrunk into a lifeless blob.

  “Impossible,” said a stunned Angor Rot.

  Jim harpooned the second Golem with another arrow, and it fell apart. But the third Golem closed in on Sir Barks. The little wolf barked furiously as a large, dripping foot loomed over him, about to stomp down.

  “Barks!” Jim shouted.

  He instinctively reached out to his furry companion, launching a camouflaged shield. It landed on top of the pup a split second before the muddy foot did. The Golem raised its leg again to inspect the damage it had done. But Sir Barks stood tall and unharmed in his own toy set of armor. The shield had conformed to his body.

  “YES!” Jim cheered before he arrowed the third Golem, crumbling it, too.

  Incensed, Angor Rot signaled to the last of his sentries, commanding it to charge at the Trollhunter. It knocked the bow from Jim’s hand, plastering it to the ground under a ton of mud. But rather than search for his lost weapon, Jim jumped up and performed a roundhouse kick in the air. His curved stilt slashed into the Golem’s fetish, and the mud monster dissolved.

  Sir Barks dug out the longbow with his paws and dutifully returned it to Jim. Angor Rot’s painted face became a fearful mask. He realized he was outnumbered two-to-one. The armored wolf growled, and Jim said, “Sir Barks—go for the gronk-nuks.”

  Angor Rot took one look at the animal’s sharp, snapping teeth and ran like crazy in the other direction. Sir Barks sprinted after him, followed by the grinning Trollhunter. Angor Rot kept checking over his shoulder while his feet stumbled on the roots and leaves.

  Jim no longer needed his jumping stilts, so he retracted them. In their place, cleated treads popped out of the soles of his boots, letting Jim move quickly through the woods. Pouring on the speed, Jim laughed and said, “Oh man, if only Tobes and I had these babies for Coach Lawrence’s soccer practice!”

  Seeing the Trollhunter gaining on him, Angor Rot broke off a branch and hurled it like a spear. Jim ran over to—and straight up—a nearby tree to avoid the branch. His cleats sank into the bark, allowing him to climb its trunk like some woodland gargoyle. Jim watched the branch sail beneath him. He smirked at a shocked Angor Rot, who continued to flee. Jim laughed as he ran sideways along the trees while Sir Barks kept pace on the ground.

  But the Trollhunter’s happiness died as soon as they reached a clearing in the woods. At first Jim mistook the flickering glow there for more lightning. Only these bolts stayed in place, as did the two figures held in suspended animation behind them. Ronagog and Junipra stared back at Jim with unblinking eyes from inside a stasis trap.

  “I had to do something to kill the time until you returned.”

  Jim and Sir Barks saw Angor Rot emerge from his hiding place in the shadows, a jagged sneer across his lips. He pointed to the stasis crystals he’d arranged in a ring around the lovesick Trolls and added, “These two made for unsatisfying sport. But I thought it wise to have a contingency on hand in the event you somehow out-hunted me. And you almost did.”

  Jim snagged another arrow from his quiver and loaded it into his bow. He pointed it at Angor Rot, only for his target to step in front of the Stasis Trap holding Ronagog and Junipra. The Troll assassin was careful to stand just far enough away that he didn’t become frozen too.

  “Do it!” Angor Rot hissed at Jim, rattling the pouch on his neck. “Strike me down and reclaim your Triumbric Stones! Let fly your quicksilver arrow. But know that it will pass through my body—and into these besotted fools behind me.”

  Jim shifted his sights to Junipra and Ronagog. He now saw that Angor Rot had positioned himself so that the three of them stood in a straight line, one in front of the other. Sir Barks growled, and Jim tightened his hold on the bowstring.

  “Slay me,” demanded Angor Rot. “Slay them. And in doing so, slay the final shreds of your pathetic humanity!”

  Jim had his shot. All his rain-slicked fingers had to do was let go and rid the world of Angor Rot for the last time. As the storm crashed around them, the Trollhunter took aim and released his arrow.

  CHAPTER 16

  PEW

  “This won’t end well for you,” said Gunmar.

  His voice echoed in eerie stereo from the two Stalklings’ throats even as their mirrored eyes reflected Team Trollhunters’ frightened faces. With their ravenous beaks snapping and their leathery wings scraping against the alley walls, the Vulture Trolls closed in—one from the front, one from the back.

  “I see now that the Trollhunter is not amongst your number,” Gunmar broadcast through the possessed beasts. “He no doubt hides like the child he is, quaking in his armor out of fear of my righteous revenge. A pity none of you shall live long enough to see me smite him and usher in the Eternal Night.”

  “Uh, Claire-bear? Now might be a good time to whip up one of them shadows of yours,” said Toby, avoiding a swipe from the nearest Stalkling.

  “I’m trying!” said Claire, mentally urging her staff to open a portal, but nothing happened. “This thing’s tied to my emotions. And they’re completely fried after that stroll down Nightmare Alley!”

  Gunmar’s laugh came out of the Vulture Trolls, echoing off the bricks and garbage dumpsters. Barbara had heard enough. She grabbed the lid off a nearby trash can and said, “Oh, put a cork in it!”

  She threw the lid like a discus, and it whacked the Stalkling in front of her right in the throat, choking off the Gumm-Gumm’s hyena cackle. NotEnrique’s eyes bulged in amazement, and he said, “Nice arm, Doc! Now I see where yer son gets his Glaive tossin’ from!”

  “Quickly—to Delancy Street!” hollered Strickler.

  He led the others past the dazed Vulture Troll and into the street beyond it. The second Stalkling crawled madly after them. Now out in the open, Team Trollhunters rounded the corner onto Main Street, then ran into the park at the town square. Strickler pulled more feather arrows from his cowl, gripping them between every knuckle, and said, “We’ll make our stand here. If we go any farther, we’ll be in the residential area. Gunmar would surely order his Stalklings to attack our neighbors as they slept, forcing our surrender.”

  “And these trees should provide good cover from those flying Creepers!” said Eli.

  Merlin nodded in agreement, saying, “Once again, the bespectacled, socially awkward one speaks most astutely.”

  “Hey, why don’t you lay off my Creep-buddy, fuzz face?!” barked Steve.

  As the wizard shrugged and walked away, Eli smiled at his teammate and said, “Thanks, Ste
ve! But that tactic was just something I read in my Mazes & Monsters rulebook, fourth edition.”

  Steve slapped Eli in the back of the helmet for being such a dork; then he heard two awful shrieks. The Stalklings swooped into the town square, dive-bombing Team Trollhunters. Everyone scattered out of the way, and the Vulture Trolls skidded to a landing on the park.

  “We need to buy Claire time until she can send these things packing to the Shadow Realm,” said Toby. “Who’s with me?”

  “Neep!” answered Chompsky, punching his fist into his open hand.

  The Gnome and Toby charged at one of the Stalklings, while Strickler and Merlin took on the other. Gunmar was at the controls of their bodies like a puppet master, so the Vulture Trolls moved with his grace and skill. They lunged, bit, and slashed in coordinated attacks. They moved like a soldier who’d spent a lifetime on the fields of battle.

  Chompsky narrowly avoided being eaten. He removed his hat, exposing the broken end of his horn, and jabbed it into the Stalkling’s foot. As the Vulture Troll screeched in pain, Toby put his collapsed weapon inside its open mouth and extended it. The Warhammer grew to its full length, opening the Vulture Troll’s jaws like a car jack. The creature squawked, unable to close its beak. Claire then snuck up behind it and thrust her Shadow Staff forward. It caught the Stalkling’s narrow neck between its two tines and stapled it to the ground.

  “Go, Claire!” cheered Barbara from the sidelines.

  “Thanks, Doctor Lake!” Claire said. “I guess it’s the least I could do until my shadowmancy comes back.”

  “Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing great,” said Barbara. “Trust me, I didn’t know how to open black holes or fight flying monsters when I was your age!”

  Across the square, Merlin and Strickler corralled the other Stalkling. It hissed and swung its wings at them—until two tiny hands covered its chrome eyes from behind.

  “Let’s see how swift ya are without yer peepers, bird brain!” NotEnrique teased.

  Strickler flicked his feather darts into the distracted Vulture Troll’s hide. He then stepped aside, swept back his cloak, and said, “Merlin, if you’d care to do the honors?”

  The wizard casually pulled his hand from his parachute pants pocket, pointed at the Stalkling, and said, “Pew.”

  NotEnrique jumped clear as a bolt of electricity flew from Merlin’s fingertip. The Vulture Troll blew sky-high like it had been struck by lightning.

  “Bit of overkill there, wouldn’t ya say, Merly?” asked NotEnrique, waving away ashes.

  “Oh, that’s nothing compared to what I would’ve done if I had my Staff of Avalon,” boasted the wizard.

  The Creepslayerz peeked their heads out from behind a park bench. Seeing that the others had subdued the Stalklings, they stood up and put away their slingshots and stink bombs. Steve scratched the back of his head and said, “So, uh . . . we won?”

  Before anyone could answer, the first Vulture Troll pulled its neck free of Claire’s Shadow Staff. Even though the Warhammer kept its jaws pried open, the Stalkling rushed toward the Creepslayerz with its hooked claws.

  “Eli! Steve! Watch out!” cried Barbara.

  She ran in front of the boys and protected their bodies with her own. They all shut their eyes in fear, then heard another electric sizzle. Barbara, Steve, and Eli each cracked open an eye in time to watch the smoking Stalkling lurch to a sudden stop and keel over. They half-expected to see Merlin behind it, conjuring another lightning bolt. Instead, Detective Louis Scott stood there, his mouth hanging open in confusion, his police-issued Taser still sending currents into the monster he just zapped.

  Toby hastily yanked off his helmet and tossed it behind some bushes before saying, “H-hey there, Detective Scott! So, um . . . how’s Darci?”

  Strickler quickly changed back to his human form. He tried to block the policeman’s view of NotEnrique and Chompsky, but it was too late.

  “Don’t even start with that theater club stuff!” warned Detective Scott. “There’s no way an amateur troupe could afford special effects like these!”

  Barbara let go of Steve and Eli and said, “Louis, I owe you a giant apology for lying to you. And a giant thank-you for saving us.”

  “I said I’d keep an eye out,” Detective Scott said as he retracted the wires back into his handheld Taser.

  “But how did you know to find us here, on Main Street?” asked Strickler.

  “I didn’t,” the detective admitted. “I was responding to a call from the museum. Security cameras show some punk in a devil mask broke in and vandalized the rock show. Told you the full moon brings out all the crazies.”

  Steve yelped when the smoking Stalkling in front of him started to move. He backed away from it, while Merlin pushed back his extra-large T-shirt sleeves and said, “Time to finish cooking this goose, I suppose.”

  “Wait!” said Claire. “Gunmar knows Jim isn’t here. And if we kill this Stalkling, he’ll just make some more with his Decimaar Blade to keep us busy. And we won’t be able to continue our search. If only there was a way to, I don’t know, take the fight to Dark Trollmarket, put Gunmar on the defensive . . .”

  Eli raised his hand to speak, like he was in class, and said, “Maybe these’ll help.”

  With his other hand, he held out a plastic baggie containing the last surviving Pixies. They bobbed slowly inside the bag, still recovering.

  “I was gonna keep them in my ant farm as evidence, in case anyone, y’know, tried to cover up Arcadia’s Creeper activity,” explained Eli. “But a warrior always uses all the resources at his or her disposal during times of war. At least, that’s what it says in my Mazes & Monsters rulebook, fourth edition.”

  Steve whooped out loud and high-fived his teammate so hard, it stung Eli’s palm. Merlin pointed at the smaller Creepslayer and said, “Ooh, I like this one. . . .”

  “Finally!” said Steve. “The old geezer shows us some respect. That’s more like—”

  Before he could finish the thought, Merlin poked Steve and Eli’s foreheads with his index fingers. Tiny sparks passed between the wizard’s hands and the Creepslayerz skulls.

  “Merlin, what’re you doing?!” Barbara demanded.

  “Just erasing their memories of this evening’s events,” said the wizard.

  He removed his fingers. As Steve and Eli stared ahead in a blank-faced daze, Merlin turned toward Detective Scott and performed the same task. Toby swallowed nervously and said, “You’re, uh, not planning on mind-wiping all of us, right?”

  “Hardly. Though I do wish I could make myself forget some of you,” Merlin answered under his breath.

  The wizard clapped his hands, and Steve, Eli and the detective begin walking away from Main Street in a trance. As the rest of Team Trollhunters watched them go, Merlin said, “Go home and rest, you slayers of creeps. For you both have much larger roles to play . . . roles beyond your wildest imaginations . . .”

  CHAPTER 17

  THE HUNTER’S MOON

  The Trollhunter roared as the arrow left his bow. Angor Rot smiled in smug satisfaction.

  At last, thought the Troll assassin. He’s sacrificed his soul, just as I sacrificed mine. Now another has paid the ultimate price. At long last, I am not alone.

  At the last second the bolt veered off-course and planted into the ground somewhere behind Angor Rot. Jim let out a deep, shuddering sigh and lowered his bow.

  “You missed on purpose!” shouted Angor Rot. “All you had to do was kill the fools behind me to end this hunt! What kind of Troll are you?!”

  “I’m not a Troll. At least, not one like you,” Jim said. “And I didn’t miss.”

  Angor Rot saw Jim’s fanged smile, then turned around. The stray arrow hadn’t sunk into the mud as he’d expected. Instead, the metal shaft jutted out from one of the Stasis Trap crystals around Ronagog and Junipra, cracking it open. With its magical core now exposed, Angor Rot watched the entire Stasis Trap surge and buckle—before it exploded.<
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  The blast sent him sprawling, while Ronagog and Junipra fell to the ground. Sir Barks lowered his head, letting the armor plating on his skull and back deflect the chunks of crystal and mud.

  All around them, the rain finally stopped falling. The storm clouds that once bruised the sky had parted. And by the light of the Hunter’s Moon, the Trollhunter stood triumphant over his nemesis.

  “I may not look like a person anymore,” Jim said to Angor Rot. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not still human.”

  The assassin tried to push himself off the earth but could not. He was still rattled by the blast. Angor Rot reached a hand toward his midsection, and Jim wondered if the Troll had caught some crystal shrapnel in his gut during the blast.

  “I . . . I almost feel sorry for you,” Jim continued. “You’ve tried to take everything away from me. My gems. My friends. My life.”

  “I succeeded in those first two endeavors, hunter, and I shall soon fulfill the last,” growled Angor Rot, still struggling to rise.

  “No, I don’t think you will,” Jim said. “I don’t even think you really wanted to kill me in the first place. At least, not before you took something else from me. The same thing you lost ages ago and have regretted ever since.”

  Angor Rot’s yellow eye glared. He clutched at his side, seething with rage. Jim watched Sir Barks wake Ronagog and Junipra with a few face licks.

  “But unlike you, I’d rather die than give up my soul,” said the Trollhunter.

  He reached for the pouch of gemstones dangling on Angor Rot’s neck, about to snatch it back—when the freed Garden Troll and River Troll tackled Jim to the ground. Sir Barks came trotting up behind them, barking excitedly, and Junipra and Ronagog both yelled, “Group hug!”

  “Uh, I’m happy you guys are okay too, and I’m sorry you got caught up in this whole mess to begin with,” Jim grunted under their combined weight. “But maybe now isn’t the best time for a lovefest!”