The Traitor of Belltroll

by Lindsay Cummings

  And his head almost exploded from the sound.

  He yelped, clapping his hands to his ears. It was horrible, the effort it took to force the Tile symbol away.

  But when the ringing faded, and Albert looked up, there was a massive grin on his face.

  “It’s ringing,” he said. “It’s time for the Trolls to wake up.”

  CHAPTER 22

  The Trolls of Belltroll

  They waited, their hearts pounding in time with the Bells of Belltroll.

  But the Trolls didn’t wake.

  Hydra had been sitting for five minutes already. The horses’ wings were getting tired and Albert’s mind was doing that strange warning thing again, repeating the same two thoughts over and over.

  It didn’t work. You let the traitor win.

  The one golden Bell, with the one real striker and gem, was ringing on a constant loop that only Albert, with his Tile, could hear.

  The others were ringing, too. But something was still missing.

  There was no Realm-ish magic to it.

  Leroy sighed and turned to his friends. “My suspicions are correct, I believe,” he said.

  Everyone turned to look at him. His Pegasus tilted its ears back, like it was listening, too.

  He went on. “We’ve missed the golden ticket, dudes. The Realm always provides the Means to Restore Balance.” When nobody seemed to catch on, he held his arms out. “The Realm! Not us. The only Bell that Albert can hear is the one with the gem and the striker the traitor gave us! Our replacement ones aren’t doing anything.”

  “He’s right,” Albert said.

  Leroy spit over his Pegasus’s side, into the abyss below.

  “If he’s right,” Hoyt said, his arms crossed over his chest, “then why have the Trolls stopped snoring?”

  The rest of Hydra whirled around to stare at him just as the mountain trembled.

  This wasn’t a quake, though. There was a strange, heavy boom . . . boom . . . boom, like in a movie Albert had once seen about giant dinosaurs attacking a city. From far away, each footstep rumbled the ground like an explosion.

  “It’s the Trolls,” Albert said. “It has to be.”

  “They’re up!” Hoyt shouted.

  “Oh, man,” Leroy said. “Oh man oh man oh man. This isn’t good.”

  “Why not?” Birdie cried out. “They’re waking up! This is what we wanted to happen.”

  “Not like this,” Leroy groaned, pointing at the base of the mountain just as a giant, wart-covered Troll stepped out into the light. “There was only one color Professor Bigglesby said wasn’t okay.”

  “And remind us what that was?” Hoyt said.

  Albert, Birdie, and Hoyt all turned to look at Leroy right as a second Troll, and then a third, came stomping out of the middle mountain.

  All of them were the same color.

  “Green,” Leroy said, unable to tear his eyes away from the massive beasts below. “The bad color was green.”

  He barely got the words out before the three green Trolls raised their heads and let loose angry roars that could have knocked a Guildacker from the sky.

  The Realm was a punching bag, and the Trolls were furious enough to use it.

  Their fists were the size of boulders, their feet twice the size of that. They were even worse than Bigglesby had described them to be.

  The Trolls probably could have kept a T. rex for a pet and made them look as small as toy poodles when they stood side by side.

  “What have we done?” Hoyt was saying over and over. He had his hands pressed over his eyes. “We did something wrong!”

  Troll Mountain spun on its axis, deeper and deeper into the ground. With every furious stomp the Trolls made, their fists took out trees like they were little toothpicks. The mountain seemed to spin faster.

  And the cracks in the Realm got deeper.

  “We woke them up,” Birdie growled. “That’s the best anyone’s done so far!”

  “We’re gonna die!” Leroy howled like Farnsworth.

  “Be quiet!” Albert said.

  He angled Spyro into the shadow of the mountain, and the other Pegasi followed just in time. One of the Trolls turned his ugly head and looked up at the spot Hydra had just been flying in.

  He was darker than the other two, and at least ten feet taller.

  And something told Albert that a darker green meant an angrier Troll.

  The Troll bashed his fist into the ground, creating a fissure that lightning-bolted across the meadow and into the trees, knocking a cluster of them down.

  He lifted his head and roared, and the other Trolls beat their chests with their fists.

  “Tarzan Trolls!” Leroy whimpered. “It’s even worse than I suspected.”

  “Oh man oh man oh man.” Hoyt shook like a Chihuahua.

  “Chill out, you two!” Birdie said.

  Albert’s mind was racing. “One Bell worked enough to wake them up. But if they’re up, what made them this way?”

  “Who knows! It’s not like we’ve got a handbook on Trolls,” Hoyt said, poking his head out of the shadows to watch as the Trolls stomped away, heading for the Ring of Emerald.

  “The traitor planned this,” Leroy said, his hands balling into fists.

  “Duh.” Albert glanced sideways at him. Leroy was pumped up.

  “This guy or girl is obviously smart,” Leroy explained. Albert could see trees flying in the distance as the Trolls bashed them out of their path. “Why else do you think the traitor just gave us a perfectly good striker? Not two or three, but one?”

  Albert, Birdie, and Hoyt stood there silently, clearly not understanding where Leroy was going with this.

  He spread his hands through his hair, and it was sticking upward like he was a crazy professor as he shouted, “Because he knew what would happen if we only used one striker, meaning only one Bell would be ringing at the right frequency!”

  “But the replacements are ringing too,” Hoyt added.

  “Not in the same way,” Albert said, finally starting to understand.

  Leroy nodded furiously. “What if all three Bells have to ring together, at the same frequency? What if that magical red stone thing—”

  “Gem,” Birdie corrected him.

  “Gem,” Leroy said, nodding her way. “We know the Realm provides the Means, and the Realm provided those strikers and those gems hundreds of years ago! We just came in here, thinking we could replicate magic that powerful!”

  “Which isn’t possible,” Birdie said. She slapped herself across the forehead. “How could we be so stupid?”

  Albert shook his head. “Not stupid,” he said. “Desperate.”

  “Uh, guys?” Hoyt tapped Albert on the shoulder.

  Albert turned to look at him and saw how pale Hoyt’s face had become.

  “We should probably stop them before they get too far. Because . . . well, there’s only one way out of here,” Hoyt said. “And they’re heading straight for the exit.”

  The Core. Albert’s head was pounding with fear and adrenaline, and his stomach was flipping and turning itself into one big knot. The mountain was still spinning and spinning, sinking deeper toward the tectonic plates that could rumble this Realm to nothing but flecks of mountain dust.

  If something as old and well-constructed as the Brooklyn Bridge had collapsed because of the quakes, what would happen to the rest of New York City if the Imbalance wasn’t stopped?

  What would happen to every city, in every state, in every country?

  The chaos would be unstoppable.

  Leroy let out a little crazy laugh, bringing Albert’s imagination back to reality. “How are four kids supposed to stop three furious Trolls?”

  “Four Balance Keepers,” Birdie said.

  “And one of them has the Master Tile,” Hoyt added.

  They all turned to Albert, eyes wide, but for once, he had completely drawn a blank.

  They weren’t heroes, and they certainly weren’t Troll wranglers. Heck, Alb
ert could barely hang on to a Pegasus, and that wasn’t exactly impressive. . . .

  “A Pegasus,” Albert said suddenly as an idea came to life in his mind. “A horse. With wings. For flying.”

  “Oh, poop on a pecan pie,” Leroy said. “He’s lost his mind. He’s gone mad! Quick, Birdie, knock him over the head before he turns on us.”

  “He isn’t a zombie, you dodo!” Birdie yelped. “He’s just . . . oh, goodness, I’m with you. He really has lost it!”

  But Albert could barely hear them. He hadn’t lost his mind.

  Well, maybe a little bit, with the plan he was forming. But there was a method to his madness. And there was a tiny vial, packed safely away in his backpack, and two more, packed away with his friends.

  “We’re going to take them down,” Albert said, swinging his backpack around to the front. He unzipped it and pulled out the strange vial of lavender liquid that Petra had brewed up for them. He held it above his head and smiled as he thought of how crazy this was. Thanks for this, Petra. When he saw the looks on his teammates’ faces, he knew they were catching on. “We’re going to need some help from our flying friends, and we’re going to have to move quick.”

  “What are you planning?” Hoyt asked. “Fill us in.”

  Hydra and their Pegasi huddled together over the mountaintop, beside the Bell that had caused this new, angry problem.

  When they were done, and everyone was on board, they pulled out their purple vials and tucked them into their front vest pockets. Birdie and Leroy each had one. Albert and Hoyt kept the third.

  “We get one shot,” Albert said. “We can’t screw it up.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Birdie said, tightening her ponytail. Now she was ready. Determined.

  Leroy sat a little taller atop his horse, and Hoyt puffed up his chest.

  “Team Hydra,” Albert said. “Like the old days. But stronger.”

  Hoyt smiled and stacked his hand on top of Albert’s. Birdie leaned out and placed her hand on top, and then Leroy did right after.

  “Team Hydra!” they all shouted, together, like one voice.

  One team.

  Then Albert turned, harnessed the power of his Master Tile, and told the Pegasi his plan.

  CHAPTER 23

  For Petra

  Albert didn’t have to work hard to convince the Pegasi to help. The horses had seen the Trolls of Belltroll. Now their dark eyes were open wide, and their neighs echoed across the sky like a battle cry.

  It was decided without speaking.

  Together, Hydra and the Pegasus herd would become an army, their sole mission to save the Realm.

  Albert was too distracted to notice that the Counter on his wrist had suddenly, strangely, dropped from thirty-nine hours . . . to just one.

  The Pegasi were like black and white rockets, their giant feathery wings tucked in close to their bodies as they careened down toward the ground.

  Albert felt like a pilot riding a fighter jet. He pressed low to Spyro’s neck, clutching on to the thick, silky mane. Behind him, Hoyt shouted in Albert’s ear to slow down.

  But neither Spyro nor Albert were going to listen to that. Today, they were on a mission.

  Faster and faster Spyro and his herd flew. Albert was sure they were going at a speed that only magic could produce. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get over his awe at the things the Realms could do.

  The mountains faded away, and the Ring of Emerald sped by beneath Albert’s feet in flashes of green. Albert’s Master Tile flapped in the wind, the only thing darker than Spyro’s coat.

  “What happens if we miss?” Hoyt shouted into Albert’s ear.

  Albert shook his head. “We die.”

  “That’s encouraging!” Hoyt shouted back.

  They were silent until Spyro’s wings rose high, bringing them to a sudden halt in midair. Albert’s face smacked against Spyro’s neck, and the wind was knocked out of him. But Spyro was hovering just on the edge of the Ring of Emerald, high in the clouds so the Trolls wouldn’t see.

  The other two Pegasi followed, gently flapping their wings as they stopped beside Spyro. Birdie and Leroy both looked like they’d been spat out of a wind tunnel.

  “You guys good?” Albert asked. “You ready?”

  Leroy patted his horse’s pearly neck. “Definitely not ready how the dictionary defines it, but something like that, yeah.”

  Birdie looked like she was going to say something to him, but thought better of it. “We’ll stop them, you guys. We’ve totally got this.”

  Albert turned to look at Hoyt. Hoyt patted his vest pocket gently, where the very top of the purple vial from Petra was just poking out.

  For one moment, Albert closed his eyes and let the wind dance across his skin. The beat of Spyro’s wings was constant and steady.

  Down below, Albert could just barely make out the Trolls, three ugly bald heads bobbing as they stomped about.

  “Remember. We need to lure them back toward the mountain,” Albert said. “Do whatever you have to do to get them to follow you. Then we’ll make them angry enough to roar, and once their mouths are wide open, we’ll throw the potions in, putting them all back to sleep. We’ll find the strikers, wake up the Trolls the right way, and solve this Imbalance for good.”

  We’ve got almost two days left, Albert thought.

  They could do this. They would do this. There was no other choice.

  “I call dibs on not tucking them in,” Leroy said.

  Albert let out one booming laugh. Leave it to Leroy to make a joke in the final moments before what felt like the biggest battle of Albert’s life. The warmth of the laugh gave him renewed energy. He dug his heels into Spyro’s sides, and the Pegasus rocketed toward the earth.

  Albert and Hoyt held tight. It was like the wildest roller-coaster drop of Albert’s life. The wind was screaming in his ears, but he could still make out Leroy’s shouts from across the sky.

  “WE’RE NOT GONNA MAKE IT!”

  He pushed all thoughts from his mind and focused.

  Three Trolls, three Pegasi, and three bottles of Petra’s potion left.

  “Here we go!” Albert shouted, and he felt Hoyt’s body tense behind him as Spyro rocketed past the first Troll’s giant head.

  The smell alone was nauseating. It was like that time his little half brother left an egg sandwich in the back of his mom’s hot car for three days.

  Focus, Albert told himself. It was what his dad would say.

  Spyro’s wings flapped, pulling them right in front of the Troll’s face. The Troll roared as he noticed the Pegasus and lifted a giant, boulder-sized fist to smash them.

  “Dive!” Albert shouted, but Spyro didn’t need any orders.

  The horse tucked his wings tight to his sides, and suddenly they were speeding down, soaring in between the Troll’s legs, and then back out behind him.

  The Troll roared furiously, the sound vibrating through Albert’s chest. Then he turned around, his steps like two massive drumbeats, and followed the Pegasus like a cat chasing a mouse.

  “It’s working!” Hoyt shouted.

  Albert threw his hands in the air and cheered.

  But then the Troll picked up speed.

  “Uh-oh,” Hoyt said, wrapping his arms tighter around Albert’s middle as Spyro flapped his wings faster. “It’s really working! Too well!”

  Leroy’s Pegasus soared past. “IT HAD TO BE TROLLS, DIDN’T IT?!”

  Birdie swooped by, too, whooping and hollering at the top of her lungs.

  Spyro flew at top speed, his hooves only feet above the grass. The Troll roared from behind them as it swiped with its fists, blasting Albert’s and Hoyt’s heads with rotten air.

  “FASTER!” Hoyt yelped. “He’s gaining on us!”

  “I don’t think we can go any faster!” Albert yelled. He looked backward, and his eyes nearly fell from their sockets. A giant fist was inches away from Spyro’s tail. He tried to reach down for his CoreSword, but Spyro suddenly banked
left, and Albert nearly flew off. He gripped Spyro’s mane, and he and Hoyt screamed as the Pegasus zigzagged like a rat in a maze.

  But they were already halfway across the Ring of Emerald, leading their Troll back away from the Core, back to where he belonged.

  He saw flashes of Birdie and Leroy on their separate Pegasi, dipping and diving. Troll fists swung about, trying desperately to grab them as they all avoided capture.

  It was a furious dance.

  One Pegasus soaring left, a Troll chasing after it.

  Another Pegasus flying to the right, and a second Troll beating his fists against his chest in a show of outrage.

  They were angry, all right. But they were following, and that was all Team Hydra wanted.

  “The Hulk has nothing on these guys!” Albert shouted.

  “The who?” Hoyt shouted back.

  They both ducked their heads as a Troll’s green fingertips just barely flitted past them, inches from plucking the Balance Keepers off Spyro’s back.

  “Look out!” Hoyt shouted.

  Spyro pulled up, just as a second Troll lunged for his tail. His hooves kicked off the Troll’s warty hand, propelling them out of the way just in time. They flew over his shoulder, heading back up into the sky, just out of the Troll’s reach.

  “We need to do this now!” Hoyt shouted. He pointed at the ground.

  They were just at the edge of the Ring of Emerald, reaching the forest. The mountain range was ahead.

  As Albert looked down and back at where they’d come from, despair struck him. The Ring of Emerald was destroyed.

  Massive Troll footprints, like crash sites for meteorites, left scars on the ground. With every step, there was another crack jutting out in the grass, and Albert could see from here that the entire Realm was shaking angrily. Even the Trolls looked like they were uneasy on their feet from all the quaking.

  In the distance, there was an earsplitting grinding noise. Troll Mountain was getting closer and closer to sinking so deep that any kind of recovery would be out of the question.

  Below, a blur of green caught Albert’s eye. He turned just in time to see one of the Trolls clip Birdie’s Pegasus with its ugly fingernail.