Something sparked in the corner of Jim's vision and he froze in his tracks, as a strange jolt of energy surged through him. Yellow beams – crackling with an energy akin to magical electricity – shot up in front of him. If he could have turned his head, he would have discovered the same sight behind him – yellow beams of…light energy? Except, it didn't feel like daylight. There was something cold about this energy. While the Amulet of Daylight always filled him with warmth, this energy brought a shiver down his spine.
Or maybe that was the six-foot-tall hunk of living rock standing just a few feet away under the shadow of a small oak tree. Jim was still frozen in mid-step, his arms still gripping his sword like a baseball bat, ready to swing. The troll laughed in cruel amusement, as Jim tried to scream. His mouth was open, but his teeth were clenched and his throat felt tight, and all that resulted from his efforts was an incoherent grunt. He couldn't move his lips, couldn't move his arms. His muscles were tight, as if pulled by invisible forces. He tried to move his head, to crane his neck and discovered that he could at least move his eyes around. It was little consolation as he looked up at his fingers, wrapped around the sword hilt, and willed them to move.
Not even a twitch.
Jim glanced back at the troll. With a twirl of his staff, the troll sent a shadow streaking across the ground, the energy traveling over the grass like a snake, slithering toward Jim's feet, racing up his legs. When the shadow spread through his chest, Jim let out several frantic groans, his chest heaving as much as was possible in his paralyzed state. The invasive shadow seemed to be smothering him. His heart thumped against his diaphragm, making it even harder to breathe. It was as if all the daylight had left him, all the warmth snuffed out by the darkness.
Jim's eyes flicked frantically up and down the troll, as he approached his frozen victim. The troll bent to meet Jim at eye level and unleashed a wicked grin. Sharp fangs bared, he chuckled evilly at Jim's feeble efforts to free himself.
"You've wandered into my web." His voice sounded like death. "A human hunter."
Jim tried to scream again, genuinely terrified of this new enemy. An assassin, Strickler had called him. He could kill Jim right here, right now, and Jim could put up no resistance.
"I am Angor Rot…" the troll continued, pacing around behind Jim's prison. Although Jim couldn't see him, his voice sent chills through his tight muscles. Jim grunted, trying to somehow push past the paralysis and get one word out. His grunts turned to muffled screams as the troll added, "And I will be the last you see before you die."
Fear coursed through him and he briefly pondered how pathetic he must look, his eyes wide and his voice strained as he continued trying to yell for help. Blinky! Toby! Claire! Anyone! But right now, he couldn't care less how pathetic he looked or sounded. This troll was going to kill him. An image of his own motionless body flooded his brain. His funeral. His mother…never knowing that it was his secrecy and lies that had taken her son from her, leaving her with no closure. Leaving her all alone.
All alone with Strickler.
He grunted again, more from anger than fear.
The troll straightened, staring down at Jim like he was no more than a fly. His grin turned taunting. "Shhh…it's useless to speak."
Jim grunted as Angor Rot began to twirl his index finger as if tracing something in the air. Suddenly, Jim felt stinging against his right cheekbone, and a yellow light flickered in the corner of his eye. It felt like the tip of a needle was scraping across his skin, engraving some unknown design into his flesh.
He unleashed another series of incomprehensible groans, as the path of the invisible needle cut dangerously close to his eye, sweeping its frigidly cold point up the bridge of his nose, and over his eyebrow with bone-rattling pain. The paralysis apparently didn't prevent him from feeling pain. Figures. The nonexistent tip was ice cold, mirroring the cold that had spread through his chest, the chill that raced over his spine…
"I have killed hunters in the past," Angor Rot continued, ignoring Jim's tortured cries. "But never a human. Such curious game."
The finger stopped tracing, and just as quickly, the sensation of the needle went away, leaving only the faint memory of the pain lingering. He briefly wondered if this was what it was like to get a tattoo. He glanced down, trying to see what had happened to his face, and hoping that whatever it was wouldn't be permanent. How would he explain that to his mother?
Angor Rot continued, unconcerned with Jim's silent struggle. "I will not give the sweet release of death…" He paused to let Jim squirm. "…not yet."
Jim whimpered, the menacing vow to spare him for the moment not doing much to ease his fears. He glanced at his hands again, still relentlessly clutching the sword's hilt. Jim's finger twitched on the hilt. Just a bit. But not enough to help him. He wondered when – if – this paralysis would wear off.
"I will relish this hunt," Angor Rot added, smirking at his captive's reaction.
Jim's eyes flicked frantically up and down, side to side, searching for any means of escape, any hope of rescue. He strained his ears, listening for the others, willing them to come racing to save him. His teeth clenched tighter and his throat burned, as he tried to call louder, louder. But it was useless. Just as Angor had said. The words were frozen on his tongue, which had long been plastered to the roof of his mouth.
"Relax," Angor Rot breathed as if savoring the taste of the word. "Your friends won't help you now."
That only sent Jim into another burst of frantic screams, as the troll's claw-like hands suddenly filled with yellow energy – not unlike the beams and the tracing across his face. Angor Rot spread his hands and the energy grew into a mist of light warping the air around them. The design on Jim's face glowed to match the energy, and he could see it dissipating as it seemed to be drifting off his skin to join the energy the troll was holding. Was he absorbing energy?
Jim suddenly felt something shift in his own energy. Frigid fingers trailed up his spine cutting all the way to the bone. The chill found his lungs, his heart, his throat…A strange, malevolent force pulled the air from his lungs, half smothering him. He felt his heartbeat kicking against his ribcage, and darkness seemed to be moving in across his field of vision.
Jim's mind raced. He screamed and screamed and screamed until he thought his vocal cords might break. Stop…stop! What…what are you…doing to me? Why do I feel so...drained?
The energy was being siphoned off of him. He could feel his muscles getting weaker, even as the paralyzing force maintained its hold. The sword was getting heavier, the armor weighing like lead. But there was no way for him to set it down, no way for him to relax his tightened muscles. It was a strange feeling. What was happening to him?
As Jim watched, the troll extended his weird-looking staff. His eyes followed the sharpened tips of the staff as they came to rest on his forehead and right below his nose. It was almost as if he were measuring something. The touch was slight, but his lungs hitched, as he pushed out another series of useless screams. He shivered, dread writhing in his stomach, wondering what was coming next. Had Angor Rot changed his mind about killing him now, or was he merely toying with him some more?
Pale yellow light continued to rise from the marks on his skin. Then, just as suddenly, Angor Rot drew the staff back, clutched it in both hands and raised it above his head, the energy culminating in the staff's tips. Angor Rot's voice was low and ominous as he began mumbling an ancient chant. He moved the staff in undulating waves, brandishing it over his head and out to his sides. Strange, cold, dark energy spiraled all around Jim.
The troll's eyes popped open, and his chanting abruptly broke off. He bent to meet his captive's eyes again, and Jim had stopped screaming. His lungs had iced over. His stomach was tangled with regret – at his own vulnerability. At his own stupidity for being so naïve as to fall headlong into this trap. His throat was choked with resignation.
His friends weren't coming to his rescue. They had lost their fight with the golems.
He had failed.
Angor Rot was baring his teeth in that wicked grin. "The next time we meet, hunter, Daylight will be mine to command."
Jim barely had time to consider those words before Angor Rot twirled his staff, and a swirling, black portal opened up in the air behind him. Jim watched as he stepped into the inky blackness, leaving him suspended in this maddeningly silent prison. The ice left his throat, the smothering shadow lifted from his chest, and he could breathe easily again.
But he still couldn't move.
His heart rate kicked up a notch, realizing that if his friends had failed against the golem, he would be stuck here until someone else came along…if anyone ever did before…
"Jim!" Toby's voice interrupted his morbid thoughts. Dizzy with relief, Jim would have collapsed if he could have. He tried to glance behind him as they approached, hearing the disturbing sound of crunching glass and knowing that they had at least one golem on their heels.
"He's in a stasis trap." He heard Blinky's admonishing tone. "Don't touch the stones."
The warning came an instant before a heavy force crashed into Jim's back, throwing him to the ground. He groaned as feeling returned to his bones, his muscles, his lungs. He pushed himself to his knees, his arms quaking with the effort. He blinked, swallowed past the dryness in his throat, sucked in several hungry breaths of air.
"Master Jim, the golem!"
At Blinky's anxious cry, Jim was jarred back to the present, reminded of the imminent danger. He reached for his sword, ignoring the weakness he still felt in his muscles and bolted to his feet, charging toward the rampaging monster with a loud growl.
He was no longer vulnerable. And he was about to prove it.
With an astounding amount of coordination and power that surprised even himself, Jim met the golem head-on, slicing the sword through the golem. Glass shattered and shards rained down over him, but he didn't care. His cut was clean, prying the stone doll from the monster's chest. Spinning around, his blade hit the doll in midair, slicing it in half. The golem collapsed into a pile of glass and aluminum cans.
Jim dropped to his knees, catching his weight on the hilt of his sword. He was trembling, as Blinky, Toby and Claire gathered around him. Jim looked back at them, searching their faces with wide blue eyes. He wondered if they had seen Angor Rot at all, if they had caught any of the one-sided conversation.
"Jim, your face…" Toby trailed off, the horror evident in his tone.
Jim swiped the back of his hand across the design still glowing on his right cheek. Although he couldn't see it, he could still feel the mark burning over his skin. He looked up as Blinky walked around to get a better look at the mark.
Jim wanted to speak, but his words caught in his throat.
"The golems," Blinky said, a troubled expression clouding his face. "They were a distraction."
"What does it mean?" Claire asked.
Blinky had knelt beside Jim, placing a stabilizing hand on his shoulder. His next words held a haunted tone. "The sigil of Angor Rot." He looked intently at Jim, his brown eyes filled with concern. "Master Jim, I fear that you have been marked...for a fate worse than death."
Jim tried to look unconcerned. Tried to remain unfazed by the interpretation of the invasive lines that now marked him as another victim of Angor Rot. But he couldn't shove down his fear, the dread that thickened in the back of his throat. Jim could see the fear reflected in his mentor's eyes, as he stared back at him.
What did that even mean? What kind of fate could be worse than death? He couldn't begin to guess what this news meant for him, but as Blinky helped him get to his feet, Jim's stomach twisted. This encounter was going to be the subject of many, many nightmares for a while.
Lucky me…