Trolled

by Bruce Coville

  Askeladden stretched, then said, “Don’t be so certain, Cody. Is there any place you can be confident she has been recently?”

  “Sure. I talked to her several times in the last couple of weeks, so there are those spots. And I know some of the other areas she has to check when she makes her nightly rounds.”

  “Well, since you know that, we should be able to find her.”

  “And how exactly are you goin’ to accomplish that?” Angus asked, putting his hands on his hips.

  Askeladden did yet another of his elegant stretches, then said, “I can track troll-scent better than any bloodhound can track a human. If I can pick up her trail, I guarantee I can follow it—though it might involve a lot of back-and-forthing while we trace the route she takes on her guard duties.”

  “No!” I said. “There’s a better way. Nettie has to punch out every night after work. So we can just go to the time clock. The last time she punched out will be the freshest trail.” Then I realized another problem and said glumly, “But her scent will be mingled with the ones from all the other guards.”

  “No problem there. I can easily pick out troll-scent from human spoor. And since it’s a good guess she headed straight for her lair after she last punched out, the freshest trail is the one we’ll follow.”

  I didn’t like the word “lair.” It had a sinister quality and made tracking Nettie seem more frightening than when Askeladden had first suggested it.

  But she had to know about the danger the prince was in…not simply sleeping, but in peril of having the glass coffin smashed open, which would cause him to fall into true death, writhing in agony as he went.

  It made me shiver just to think about it.

  Then I realized another problem. “How will I get you into Grand Central, Askeladden? I can carry Angus in my backpack, but there’s no way I could explain to Dad why I’m bringing a cat.”

  “No fears,” said Askeladden. “Just get me out of the apartment and down to the streets. I’ll travel on my own after that. I do know how to ride the subways, after all.”

  “You do?”

  Askeladden looked at me in surprise. “Good grief, Cody. After all this you don’t still think I’m a normal cat, do you? I’ve been with your great-grandmother since before your father was born.”

  “Wouldn’t he have noticed how weird that is?” I asked. “I mean, no offense, but cats don’t live that long.”

  “Troll-cats do. And your dad never paid enough attention to me to get suspicious. As far as he knows, I’ve been ‘replaced’ twice. That’s why I’m called Askeladden the Third. But it’s really been me all along.” He licked his paw, then added, “Your great-granny got me via the troll network.”

  “The troll network?” I said, totally confused now.

  “Did it never occur to you that if both Nettie Thump and your great-grandmother could make it to America, other trolls might have done so, too? There is a small but thriving community of one-headed trolls here in New York City.”

  I tried to reply, but the idea of a whole community of trolls here in the city left me too boggled to speak.

  Askeladden sighed. “As I was about to say, I have done a lot of errands for your great-grandmother over the years. The subways are part of how I get around.”

  “Won’t someone report you, or try to capture you, or something?”

  “Not likely. People enjoy seeing cats in the subway. They figure we’re there for the rats. Also, I’m good at skulking. Most people won’t notice me any more than they would notice a shadow. So I will meet you at your father’s office, and—”

  “You know where it is?” I interrupted.

  “Of course. Your great-grandmother has sent me there more than once to check on him. Aino tends to be a bit of a worrier, to be honest. Now will you be quiet so I can finish?”

  I nodded.

  “All right. I will meet you at your father’s office. You lead me to the watchmen’s time clock and I’ll take it from there.”

  So that’s the plan.

  I’m excited, and also scared. Really scared. I don’t think Nettie would hurt me. But I don’t know how deep under GCT she might be living, and I’ve heard Dad tell Mom there are people down there, too. And not necessarily nice ones.

  But Nettie needs to know what’s going on, and she needs to know it as soon as possible.

  So if my guess about where her trail will lead is right, tomorrow night we will descend into the bowels of Grand Central Terminal.

  Part of me wishes we could go right now. But it’s too late tonight.

  So tomorrow night it is.

  I must be out of my mind.

  Cody’s Life Log

  10/28 (late)

  This was the most terrifying night of my life.

  Part of me wants to forget it. Another part thinks I need to write it all down while it’s still fresh in my mind.

  I think I had better. Maybe doing that will help calm me…or at least help me stop thinking about it.

  I won’t go into a lot of detail about the first part of the night. Let’s just say I arranged things so I would head for Granny Aino’s to feed Askeladden a little later than usual but come home in time to go to GCT with Dad.

  I neglected to mention that when we left for the terminal I would have a brownie in my backpack, and that instead of doing homework I was planning to head for the terminal’s lower levels in search of a troll.

  I got to Gran’s about five-thirty, said hello to Norman the Doorman, then took the elevator up to the penthouse level.

  At six o’clock I came back down with a box containing Askeladden. (That cat is HEAVY!)

  “Whatcha got there, Codester?” asked Norman as I came out of the elevator.

  “Just some stuff Granny Aino wants me to take care of,” I answered…which I figured was pretty close to true.

  A normal cat might have meowed, or yowled, or scratched at the box and messed things up. Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry about any of that with Askeladden.

  Once I was outside, I walked over to the ramp that leads to the building’s underground parking area. I went down far enough to be out of sight of anyone on the sidewalk, then let Askeladden out.

  “See you at the terminal,” I said softly.

  “See you there,” he replied. Then he flicked his silver-gray tail and scooted up the ramp.

  I hurried after him, but when I got to the sidewalk he had already disappeared.

  I rushed back to our apartment, where I put a flashlight and a bottle of water into my backpack. Then I layered one of my T-shirts over all that to cushion it for Angus. “Hop in,” I said, holding the sides of the pack apart.

  He scowled and said, “You know, I do hate traveling this way. Ah, weel…I guess there’s nothing for it.” And with that he scrambled into the pack, made himself comfortable, then looked up at me and whispered, “All right, lad…let’s go on a troll hunt!”

  I hurried out of my room to meet Dad—I didn’t want him getting cranky because I had made him late for work—and off we went.

  An hour or so later, shortly after Dad left the office to check on his workers, Askeladden strolled in. I must have appeared relieved, because he said, “Don’t look so shocked, Cody. I told you I would be here.”

  “I didn’t mean to doubt you,” I replied, blushing a little.

  He flicked his tail and said, “Take me to the time clock.”

  I started out of the office. When I looked to see if the cat was following, I couldn’t spot him! I glanced around and finally located him moving through shadows about ten feet away. He wasn’t invisible, but you wouldn’t notice him unless you were looking really hard.

  He was definitely telling the truth when he talked about his skulking skills!

  When I got to the clock, Askeladden came over to join me. I figured we were unlikely to be spotted, since at that point everyone had already punched in. He began sniffing around, muttering, “Troll trail…old. Troll trail…old. Troll trail…newer, but
still stale.” Finally, he said, “Ah, here we go! This is definitely the freshest of the lot. Follow me, Cody!” He trotted away, his tail straight up and waving like a silver ostrich plume.

  As I had hoped, the scent didn’t lead us through any high-traffic areas. However, after a while it did force us to cross some tracks. This was hard for me, since I’ve been told for as long as I can remember to NEVER do that. Askeladden had to coax me across.

  Once we reached a place far enough from the main terminal that we were unlikely to be spotted, we stopped so I could let Angus out of the backpack. Grumbling about a cramp in his leg from the way he had been forced to travel, he positioned himself on my shoulder and took a grip on my collar. We resumed the hunt.

  Now and again I could hear the scuttle of rats. Even worse was the moment when my flashlight beam fell on a cluster of them.

  They were enormous!

  Askeladden hissed and arched his back. Then he shook himself and said, “I would like to tangle with them. But we have more important things to do.”

  As I had both feared and expected, the trail brought us to a stairwell that led down to another level. Good thing I had Angus and a talking cat to keep me company. Otherwise I probably would have turned back. I’m fairly brave, I think…but not so brave I could have done this on my own. No way!

  It was also good that I had brought my flashlight, because this level was not lit. On the other hand, I almost wished I couldn’t see where we were, since it was downright creepy. And the smell…it was kind of like wet dog, but not anywhere near as nice. There were places where it reminded me of the streets up above when the garbagemen were on strike. Other places smelled strongly of pee.

  In other words, it was nasty. As I swung the flashlight around, I saw some odd lumps against a far wall. When I realized that what I was seeing was blanket-covered people trying to sleep, I shuddered and quickly moved the beam away.

  We had walked a little farther when I heard the ploink ploink ploink of dripping water. I swung the flashlight’s beam in a half circle and saw dark pools that shimmered with an oily skin.

  Beyond one of the pools rose a wall covered with a huge mural done by some graffiti artist…an angel with an arrow stuck in its chest, flying above a city street. The image was beautiful but also disturbing.

  “Who paints a giant picture in a place that’s always dark?” asked Angus. “And how did they do it?”

  I had no answer.

  We continued on, picking our way over discarded building material: chunks of wood, steel bars, concrete blocks, and so on. I tried to be careful but stumbled several times anyway.

  The air was dank. Sometimes it reeked with sewage, or other nasty things that I couldn’t name. I was amazed that the cat could continue to sense the trail.

  I was starting to worry about getting back before Dad noticed I was missing when the cat led us into a tunnel that seemed to go on forever. Sometimes it was cool and dry. Other times we passed through odd spots of steamy warmth.

  How far from the center of the terminal did Nettie live?

  After a while the tunnel opened into an area so wide the beam of my flashlight couldn’t reach the walls.

  “We’re still on the trail,” said Askeladden. “Her scent is very strong here.”

  Seconds later an unfamiliar voice cried, “Who goes there?”

  The words echoed from the walls around us.

  “I said, ‘Who goes there?’ ” repeated the voice angrily.

  More echoes.

  “Just some friends,” called Angus, his own voice surprisingly strong. I hadn’t realized the little guy could be so loud.

  “What’s your name?” asked the voice, closer now and definitely unfriendly.

  “Angus!”

  “We’ve no Angus living down here,” snarled a different voice, louder, fiercer, closer.

  “Run!” yowled Askeladden.

  That definitely seemed like the best idea at the moment. Keeping the flashlight’s beam on the ground directly ahead, terrified of tripping over some rock or piece of discarded track, I sprinted forward.

  Angus, clinging to my collar, whispered, “If I fall off, lad, don’t stop. I can take care of myself.”

  I didn’t have time to wonder if that was true. I ran faster. At the same time, I found myself screaming, “Ned! Ned, are you here? I need you!” I was desperately hoping that I was right that she lived down here—and even more desperately hoping that she wasn’t far away.

  I peeked over my shoulder and saw a beam of light behind us. Whoever was chasing us also had a flashlight. That made sense but also meant he could move as fast as we did.

  Looking behind was a serious mistake, because as I did, I stumbled and fell. My hand hit hard and the flashlight rolled out of my fingers. Even as I felt a new level of panic, I discovered something astonishing: I could still see!

  Before I could think of what that meant, a third voice cried, “Get them!”

  “Get them!” cried other voices, seemingly all around us now. “Get them!”

  “Ned!” I shouted again. “Ned, are you here? NED!”

  Our first pursuer was so close I could hear him panting behind me. Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed my arm.

  I screamed.

  At the same time, I felt Angus jump from my shoulder.

  “What are you doing, kid?” growled my captor, giving me a hard shake. “You don’t belong down here! Wait…what?”

  “Leave the boy be, ya great slobberin’ dafty, or I’ll tear your ear clean off!” cried Angus.

  “Who? What? OWWWW!” howled the guy who had caught me.

  But he let go of my arm.

  It didn’t make any difference.

  The others had surrounded us.

  Shouting and swearing, they reached for me.

  From the Private Diary of Aspen Markonnis

  Tonight, with no knock or warning, King Wergis barged into my cave.

  This is never a good thing.

  “We are uneasy, sage,” growled his middle head. “We fear some disturbance coming our way. Tell us what it is!”

  “I am not a sage,” I replied, trying to hold down my panic.

  The king’s temper has always been unpredictable, but in recent years it seems his wrath is ever closer to the surface. “I am but a poor scrivener who sometimes sees the truth upon the winds,” I said.

  “And what truth do you see upon the winds this night?” his right head demanded. As usual, that head focused on me with its left eye only, the right eye simply rolling in useless circles.

  The tusks of all three heads gleamed in the light of my candles.

  I have made a sketch of the moment, as I have learned that doing this will sometimes save me from repeating the moment in my dreams.

  “What did you see?” demanded his left head.

  “That nothing lasts forever, and all are subject to change,” I replied, cringing because I knew that though my words were true, he would hate them.

  “LIAR!” roared all three mouths. “We shall be king for all our days!”

  Yet I knew I had spoken the truth. Nothing lasts forever.

  Not even the reign of this ever more tyrannical king.

  Friday, Oct. 28

  I was pacing my cave, distraught and fretful, when I heard a distant scream, followed by a voice calling my name.

  I was instantly alert. Was it Martha?

  Another cry, and I recognized the voice.

  Cody!

  What in the world was he doing down here?

  I scrambled out of my home and raced in the direction of the boy’s screams. I can see fairly well in the dark, and it soon became clear that he was surrounded by a group of undergrounders.

  They were angry. Even worse, though he was only a boy, they were frightened of him. This fear fed their anger…and fear-fueled anger is the worst of all kinds.

  It took only a moment to realize why they were so disturbed. Cody had nothing of the underground about him—his clothes were cl
ean and without holes; he was well fed; his skin was a healthy pink, not a pasty white. He was obviously not of our world, and if he was allowed to return upside and tell others what is down here, it would threaten all of us.

  And that was a threat the undergrounders would not tolerate.

  But picking on someone smaller than yourself is a thing I will not tolerate! With a ferocious roar, I hurtled forward. Seizing the first man I came to, I threw him aside.

  I did the same with the second.

  And the third.

  At the same time, I heard the yowling of a cat. To my surprise, I also heard it hiss, “If you value your eyes, get your hands off me!”

  A troll-cat?

  Another voice, smaller, shouted, “Leave go, ya narsty brute, or I’ll gnaw your finger straight to the bone!”

  So Angus was also part of the fight.

  I continued to thrash around me. Stray beams of light flashed over the battle. Some illuminated my face. When the undergrounders realized it was me, saw that I was fighting against them, they turned on me.

  “Let this be, Ned!” shouted one. “You know we can’t let him return now that he’s seen us!”

  “I know no such thing!” I roared as I thrashed about, flinging men in all directions.

  Someone grabbed my shoulders. At once I flung myself backward, crushing him with my great weight. Ignoring his screams, I sprang to my feet. More and more of the men fell—some cursing, some screaming—as my fists connected over and over. Finally, the last of them fled whimpering into the darkness.

  When all were gone, and all was quiet, I turned to Cody. My voice low but ferocious, I growled, “Are you insane? What in the world are you doing down here?”

  The boy cringed, then said the only thing that could have calmed my anger: “I came to bring you news about Prince Gustav Fredrik.”

  Which was how he became the first human I ever invited to my cave.

  Cody’s Life Log

  10/28 (continued)

  “Cave” is hardly the right word for Nettie’s underground home. The place is magical, and amazingly beautiful.

  Hmmm. I wonder if that’s my huldra blood speaking.