In hindsight, could there be anything more ridiculous or surreal? One second, Bular was there, already celebrating the inevitable victory, and the next one, everything had changed.
Too much.
Seriously.
When the dark troll noticed his foe making a step back, he thought that was some kind of cunning strategy. After all, no one would be unhinged enough to jump right into the sunlight.
Who the hell would even have thought that Kanjigar could commit suicide when cornered? Well, definitely not the son of Gunmar, who was watching the result of his own actions in the canal below.
There was a pile of rocks lying there, the one that used to be the noble troll warrior only some moments ago. Bular could also easily pinpoint the amulet shining among the rubble as if mocking him.
Unbelievable.
He had already tried to reach for the accursed thing and learned that it was impossible to get it at the moment. Of course, unless he wished to become the second pile of stones lying nearby. That one would definitely entertain goblins. Stricklander would also be more than happy.
After punching some of the innocent support beams in a fit of empty rage, Bular tried to consider the entire situation once again. Of course, he wasn't the best when it came to planning, but it wasn't like he had any other choice.
The worst thing was the dark troll failing to secure the amulet. Again. How many failures had he already gotten so far? Bular had stopped to count decades ago as it was too humiliating.
On the other hand, with Merlin's artifact under the sunlight, there was no way for any troll, regardless of loyalties or morals, to get it into their possession.
Except impures.
Or stalklings.
Or some other sun immune trolls - what if there were some of those and he simply wasn't aware?
Actually, there were too many unknown factors, and that fact alone was driving Bular crazy. That was the exact reason why he hated overthinking.
He could already imagine his sister's reaction. Barverra would be furious, that was for sure. And as far as the Gumm-Gumm prince remembered, her fits of rage could be as dangerous as their father's. She was feared for a reason.
It was one thing simply not to recover the amulet and totally other - not to recover it because of abandoning the initial plan. Her plan. The Herald of Doom never tolerated the blatant negligence among her subordinates - all of those with their own ideas had often ended dead. Bular wondered if his own familial bonds would mean a thing.
Moreover, there was Stricklander who wouldn't forget mentioning that failure to Gunmar in his next report. That winged bastard had never missed the opportunity to demonstrate the dark prince's incompetence to his father.
Fucking impure.
There was no point in staying under the bridge anymore - nothing could be done until the sunset, after all. Casting one last glance at the desired object, Bular retreated, thinking how he could explain things to his sister. That one would never be easy.
Archie still wondered how Douxie even managed to talk him into this kind of madness. The familiar would never forget about trolls' apparent preferences for cat meat. What kind of intelligent creatures could look at such a graceful and sophisticated form and see only a potential meal? Whatever Douxie tried to prove, trolls remained barbarians - and the hell itself would freeze faster than Archie would change his opinion.
He shuddered at the recollection of his recent encounter with one of the stone brutes. Of course, unlike the times with Douxie or Zoe, that guy had never attempted retreating. No, he clearly had taken too much interest in the cat instead, and neither the fact that Archie could talk or even him shifting back into the dragon form had helped. If anything, it only had made the familiar more exquisite delicacy in that troll's eyes.
On the other hand, the cat-dragon couldn't help admitting that they needed to find the Trollhunter. The current state of things was not that nice, and Archie couldn't get rid of some nasty foreboding that something horrible was lurking in the shadows. He would never dare to ignore that one - his kind tended to have a sharp intuition after all.
Nevertheless, the familiar still wished that Merlin hadn't picked a troll as his champion. Was there any need to complicate everything that much?
In any case, right now, Archie was flying through the night Arcadia in another attempt to contact good-natured trolls. Actually, the cat-dragon had at least a vague understanding of what kind of locations they were frequent to, but tonight everything was suspiciously quiet.
A true calm before the storm. The familiar didn't like that kind of predicament at all. It just screamed about the possibility of something awful happening.
He hated to be right. The sunrise was quickly approaching when the cat-dragon's ears had picked the sound of the distant fight. There were times when clangs of swords could mean anything, but in the modern era, the possible explanations for those were quite limited. It took some seconds for Archie to pinpoint the location of a supposed fight.
Canals.
Thinking about that, hadn't Douxie noticed before that many troll routes included that spot for some reason? Their team even speculated about the possibility of an entrance to the underground settlement located there, but they had no proof.
Maybe this time they could finally get some success after running in circles for some years. Archie sped up, flying in the direction of the battle. He had to be quick - it had been the early morning already. The sun would shoo away any troll, cutting even this vague lead.
The trees were thinning up already, revealing the familiar sight of the canals. The familiar slowed down significantly, shifting into his cat form and landing gracefully on the ground. It was already too light to attempt a flight in the open space. Arcadia was waking up, and that meant too many curious eyes. There had been too many local legends for the one place already, and the dragon wasn't going to add 'mysterious flying black creature' to that list.
But seriously, couldn't those trolls at least try to keep a low profile? Granted, the canals were never such a crowded location, however, there were already cars crossing the bridge. What if someone noticed the weird noises?
Or…
Archie nearly facepalmed, as he got a glimpse of some teen hiding among the bushes on the other bank of the canal. That kid was looking at something under the bridge. The cat couldn't help turning his head in the same direction as well.
Yes, they were there. Trolls, apparently engaged in some kind of death battle. Archie had recognized Bular at once. He didn't know his rival, but the shining silver armor was a dead giveaway. The Trollhunter, Merlin's champion, the one they were supposed to contact.
His position was grave, that was for sure. The dragon even considered launching an attack himself, all risks and consequences be damned, but before he managed even to shift into his true form, something unimaginable had happened.
The Trollhunter just stepped back off the bridge, basically committing suicide. It was unreasonable and totally unhinged…
No, Archie corrected himself mentally as his initial shock faded. It actually made a lot of sense. Merlin's champion had known that he couldn't have won in any case, so he had simply done the most logical thing, namely preventing the enemy from getting the amulet.
And no matter how cynical it may have sounded, the Trollhunter had definitely succeeded in reaching that goal. It was nearly funny to watch Bular's futile attempts to get the magical object. Archie could swear the Gumm-Gumm was way past the boiling point. Nevertheless, the dark prince seemingly decided to retreat temporarily or something, leaving the pile of rocks that used to be his enemy not that long ago.
The cat-dragon wondered what to do right now. Probably, going back and reporting to Douxie made the most sense. Though…
No, he had to stay for some time until the new champion appeared. With all this sudden succession, there was no guarantee that the new Trollhunter wouldn't prefer to keep a low profile. Probably, all other good trolls would try to stay underground for a while as well. Especially if their protector wasn't a good warrior.
Besides, Archie had suddenly remembered about the unwitting witness of the death battle. His head snapped round to search for the teen, but there wasn't anyone around anymore. Most likely, the poor kid had run away at some point. Of course, the familiar couldn't blame him for that, but apparently, now they all had another problem to solve. The boy would clearly go around spreading the rumors about monsters… Why was it so difficult to keep the secrecy?
The cat sighed, looking around in a search for a comfortable observational spot. Apparently, he would have to wait for a while…
Sometimes Barbara truly hated the human body's limitations, especially that nearly ridiculous lack of endurance. One could imagine that after all those decades taking a fleshbag form, she would have gotten used to that, but no. Some hectic shifts in a row would always drain her to the point of barely making it home, only to collapse on her own bed. Jim would be displeased after that, lecturing her on the importance of taking proper rest. Her boy could be such a concerned mother hen sometimes, even though it should have been her role. When had he managed to grow so much?
Well, to the woman's defense, this time, she had written a note to her son. So, hopefully, it wouldn't be that problematic.
'Late night at work. Sleeping in. Mom'
That way Jim would know that she hadn't been exhausted to the point of not being able to scribble some lines.
But seriously, why this last substitute shift had to be so busy? Was there some weird position of stars that provoked unfortunate incidents or something? Barbara had barely managed to find some minutes to take a break during all of that. Though…
The main problem had been elsewhere. The shift itself may have been hectic, but it wasn't even close to the truly hellish ones. The problem was her not sleeping for several nights in a row - and the human work had nothing to do with that. It was all about the night side of her life, be it keeping in check impures or scheming together with Bular.
Speaking about that one, hopefully, at least there would be more luck regarding it. Barbara had some nasty nagging feeling that some kind of a disaster had happened there as well, something way more complicated than her working herself to the point of collapsing. Knowing Bular's reckless tendencies, that wouldn't be such a shock.
Initially, the redhead had planned to check on her brother right after the shift's end. Nevertheless, the exhaustion made her reconsider it. She was simply neither in the mood nor in proper condition to run across the neighborhood in the futile search for some big dumbass.
Still, the woman prayed that no matter what kind of stunt her brother had pulled that night - and, oh boy, he definitely had screwed royally, - it wouldn't make matters worse. They were already wasting precious time - more delays were out of the question, especially at the moment.
Recently, Barbara had got a hunch that Stricklander had been trying to find her hiding place. To be honest, that would make so much sense - those last few years, she had been basically playing mind games with the changeling. No, of course, it had never been an open confrontation - the head of the Janus Order was too smart to make such a mistake. Yet it still remained a battle of wits, the constant search of each other's weak spot.
The daughter of Gunmar often wondered how exactly she felt about that standoff. Yes, it was infuriating that someone dared to challenge her in her own field. Yet, at the same time, the woman couldn't help admitting that Stricklander was a worthy rival. No one had ever lasted for that long after defying the Herald of Doom. Yes, she had been lenient so far, but the changeling definitely had more than enough guts as he should have had no idea about her wavering outlook.
And right now, Stricklander just made his own move in that game, no more, no less. On the one hand, the daughter of Gunmar was skeptical that the winged schemer would get any result. No one in their right mind would expect the Herald of Doom hiding among fleshbags, after all. But on the other - the leader of Janus Order was truly intelligent, and she seriously doubted that he would neglect throughout research or throw away a theory without checking, only because it sounded crazy.
Perhaps, Barbara had to become more serious. She had no right to tolerate such an insolence - the impure was too close to Jim and would never hesitate to use her son as a bargaining chip. He knew nothing about honor, true to his roots. Maybe Bular was right, and they just had to get rid of that cunning bastard a long time ago. But well, where was the guarantee that the next head of the Janus Order wouldn't be similar or even worse? All impure were more or less the same. At least Stricklander was predictable to some degree - the daughter of Gunmar had already got some good reading of his approach to things. He could live. For now. Until he would dare to cross the line. And then... Well, then she would make him regret that he had been born into this world.
God, she definitely was too exhausted! Barbara's mind just kept running in circles without giving any proper replies.
The woman closed her eyes in an attempt to have some rest - she didn't plan to sleep, just relax the psyche. Nevertheless, she soon drifted into a slumber, or at least that form of it she could allow for herself. Growing in the bloodthirsty community had taught the daughter of Gunmar to be well-aware of surroundings even during the relaxation. The human form may have dulled her senses, but it had never managed to take away that habit fully.
After some time, she could hear the faint noise of Jim starting the day downstairs. It was easy to imagine him doing some cleaning, then switching to cooking - Barbara had seen that so many times to form a clear mental image, so warm and endearing. That was her boy's peaceful life she wanted to protect, no matter what kind of price she had to pay herself.
Eventually, the mother heard approaching light steps, the door creaked, and then she felt Jim taking off her glasses. How could she possibly forget about those again? Now her son would be needlessly worried once again.
A light kiss on the forehead, covering her with a blanket, a barely audible 'love you, Mom'... How ironic - it was as if their roles had switched over the years. It hadn't been that long ago when Barbara had been the one to tuck Jim's blanket and kiss him during his sleep after checking if everything was right. Her boy was growing too fast, and she had no idea how to feel about that. It wasn't even about troll vs. human aging rates. The teen was quite mature for his age, sometimes too much. Had she failed in protecting his careless childhood?
Waking up early had never been a problem to Jim. Well, to be honest, it had been slightly challenging when he had just taken over most of the household chores. But eventually, it had become a habit - and it made the teen quite proud. His mother did her best in providing for their little family alone, so taking some burden off her shoulders felt great. Not to mention that Barbara was never that good when it came to chores and especially cooking. Jim still shivered at the memory of some food atrocities they both used to have as dinner. The teen seriously wondered how she could make the combination of good ingredients barely edible. It wasn't that difficult to cook most of the dishes. Or maybe it was like that only for him. His mother, apparently, could burn even the water.
Jim had taken over the kitchen relatively early - as far as he remembered, it had happened after several meal disasters in a row. Yes, at first, it had been scary to take a knife or turn on a stove, not to mention that those initial attempts had been in secret. His mom had freaked out when she had found out. Now the teen understood the extent of irresponsibility and the danger of trying that stuff without proper supervision. Jim still wondered how Barbara hadn't banned him from the kitchen altogether after that.
However, even though the woman had been reluctant at first, she permitted her son's cooking attempts eventually. Probably, back then, the mother had decided to respect his determination. In the beginning, she had always been standing nearby, worried sick every time her boy had picked up a knife. But as time passed, Jim had managed to prove his own capability.
Initially, he had only prepared simple dishes, not sure if he could cook something edible. It wasn't so far-fetched to assume that his mother's incapability ran in the blood or something. The success was quite unexpected, even if it wasn't that difficult to cook anything tastier than Barbara's sorry excuses for food. It still had given the boy more confidence in trying new things. So by now, checking new recipes on the Internet had become a habit. The kitchen had fully become Jim's domain, where every cooking utensil was in a position convenient to him. Not to mention that Toby never refused to taste his 'experiments', even if most of those went against his diet.
Yes, cooking had become something the teen enjoyed wholeheartedly. It somehow made his soul peaceful. Unfortunately, this activity held something unsettling as well. As far as the teen knew, James Lake Sr. was really good at it as well. Jim was never sure what to think about that fact. His memories about the father were never perfect. Could it be otherwise, as the boy was only five back when his biological dad left them? Since then, James had never called, visited, or showed any other kind of interest. It was like the man had crossed his previous family out of his life. And that neglect hurt the most. What had they done to that person to deserve such attitude?
Sometimes Jim tried to remember how their family life had been back then. It wasn't easy as there were only bits and pieces when it came to recollection. Still, even fragmented, some of the memories made no sense. The teen could recall many happy moments from his early childhood with his father, but there were also some odd or even horrible times with his dad being angry or outright abusive. Which ones were true and which were just a fruit of his imagination? Maybe Jim was subconsciously demonizing the man, and it hadn't been that horrible in reality. The teen had heard somewhere that the mind could fill the gaps with false reminiscence. Maybe that was the case here. Maybe, it was just easier to hate James Sr.
In any case, everything connected to the person in question tended to bring too many painful thoughts, including the boy's own name. That one felt like a brand left from his father, the cruel reminder of reality. In the end, James was the name of both of them. The teen preferred Jim though and avoided the full variant as much as possible.
Perhaps, he should have tried to stay away from cooking as well, but giving up on that one would be hard - it certainly helped Jim to relax and often made him forget about some horrible or depressing stuff. Besides, why had he to abandon something he genuinely liked, only because some good-for-nothing parent happened to enjoy that one as well?
There had been too many issues when it came to his deadbeat dad, that was for sure. Jim would never share most of those with Barbara - his poor mother had already had too much on her fragile shoulders. Wouldn't it be just cruel to pile even more problems for her to solve? No, he had to be a grown-up here.
The teen discussed a lot with Tobes instead. After all, they were not that different from brothers by this point, and even though his friend didn't have more life wisdom (they had been in this world for the same amount of time, after all), it was still comforting to hear his opinion. Toby had always been the most accepting person around, and it was a huge pity that not many people noticed that side of his.
And if there was a need for an adult input, Jim would simply ask Mr. Strickler. The history teacher was probably the most sympathetic person he knew, a true teacher and mentor to many. The man was just an embodiment of warmth and life wisdom. Was it that weird to respect his opinion or turn to him for advice?
Yet, there were also things that he mostly preferred to keep to himself. Like that weird feeling of something being seriously off, which often drove Jim crazy. There were times when everything simply seemed too constricted, too suffocating. And some days, he could swear there were things most people knew nothing about (that one was actually dangerous - one misstep, and he would definitely join Eli in his unhinged search for aliens).
No, the teen enjoyed the peaceful life together with his mother, the friendship with Toby, and even the school life (though that one could use some improvements). On the other hand, he definitely wanted something more than just that, no matter how vague his idea about that 'something more' was.
Jim had actually tried to bring it up in casual chats with his best friend, without emphasizing his own feelings about the surrounding world. Alas, Toby had never taken it seriously, mostly concluding that his buddy was just bored of routine. Well, Jim could only blame himself for such misunderstanding as he wasn't sincere enough. But what exactly did he want? Some more excitement? An adventure? A purpose?
The last one probably sounded the closest to the truth - Jim often thought about the future and his own reason for living. That one was another thing he mostly kept to himself because there was no certainty how other people would react. Probably there would be some sympathetic pats and advice not to think about it until he was older at best. The teen definitely didn't want to imagine the worst outcome. People could be cruel sometimes without any sound reason.
There was also the matter of lingering nightmares - those grew rarer over the years but still continued to haunt Jim's sleep. They were horrible dreams of his father chasing him through the house, calling him a monster, and hitting him with a bat. Well, to be honest, it was more like some faceless entity doing that, yet the teen identified that one as his biological dad. Probably the reason for such image was that Jim didn't remember how James Sr. looked or sounded - he left when his son was still small, and Barbara had thrown away all of his photos. The teen would most likely never recognize the man if they met on the street, and honestly, Jim wouldn't care less.
If that person had no wish of being his father, why should he have had any desire to be his son? Not to mention that even his subconsciousness seemingly painted the man as a villain.
This problem wasn't that easy to hide. Toby knew about those dreams (not in detail though as Jim deliberately omitted them), and Barbara certainly had noticed her son waking up from nightmares. Of course, she always attempted to talk, but when it came to his mother, the boy kept avoiding the honest answer. It was way easier to dodge any discussions, to keep telling that he dreamed about something else even if his lack of creativity with excuses most likely confused the woman. Jim would rather pretend to have a great variety of weird or illogical fears than tell the truth.
There were only two things the teen was afraid of - the one of losing his close people and the one of becoming a monster. Okay, the second one was clearly abnormal, illogical, and totally uncalled - he had to admit that. Jim himself had no idea how to explain it. Well, he remembered having some weird tendencies in the kindergarten, and those even caused some bullying, but he was more than sure that he had overgrown all of those a long time ago. It wasn't like the teen behaved the way that would suggest anything inhuman.
He was a human, without any doubt. It would be stupid to think otherwise.
Jim banished unpleasant thoughts into the darkest corner of his mind and finished with cooking. Now he just needed to bring the breakfast to his mother and head off to school.
Barbara had returned from yet another late shift. Recently, it had become even worse. Sometimes Jim wondered why his mother had to work so much. What had she done wrong to deserve that kind of fate? The boy knew the answer - it was all his bastard biological father's fault. The man had no decency to help at least financially, let alone taking any part in his son's life.
Probably, that was the main reason why Barbara was a true hero to Jim. Continuing to stand proudly, never letting her worries out, protecting her child from all the bad stuff - she had always been strong, and the teen hoped to be able to demonstrate the same level of willpower one day. He just needed to take more burdens off her shoulders. It was not only about the household. The boy also tried to keep all the troublesome stuff from his mother and solve any problems himself. Probably, it was not healthy for him, but he wanted to protect her from worries, at least occasionally.
Barbara was sound asleep, even forgetting to take off her glasses. How long was that going to continue? Jim wished he could find a job already, maybe something part-time, fitting for a minor. Perhaps, then the woman wouldn't overwork herself anymore. The boy once tried to start the conversation about that, much to his mother's chagrin. She was vehemently against any part-time job.
'I wouldn't mind if you found that one for a life experience or to be able to buy something for yourself, kiddo, but doing it for my sake is out of the question. It's my job to take care of you, not another way around. I'm not even sure if allowing you to take over the household was a good decision,' those were exactly her words back then. There was finality in those, and her tone suggested that the woman would never accept anything else.
No matter how much Jim would prefer to own a Vespa, for now, his bicycle was the only means of transportation. Barbara had never liked scooters as she found them too dangerous. Well, maybe one day the teen would get the one - hadn't he already proved to be responsible enough?
What was the point of thinking about the bad stuff? Perhaps, something amazing was waiting for him.
Or not.
The first thing that had met the teen the second he went out was an overturned trash bin.
Just great, raccoons strike back once again. Or aliens. Or whatever monsters Eli has seen.
Seriously, there should have been a way to stop those annoying night raids. Probably, he needed to do Internet research later.
"We're late for school, Jimbo", Toby informed him casually instead of a greeting, appearing right in the midst of his dealing with trash.
Meeting with his best friend had always helped to lighten up Jim's mood a lot. He was truly blessed to have a person like that nearby - Tobes just knew how to make any worries go away and did that without trying hard. That was quite a precious talent.
Well, on the other hand, it wasn't like his plump best friend's presence automatically solved all the troubles. For example, it was not going to fix the fact that both boys were going to be late for school.
"Sorry, Tobes. Busy with the lunches," Jim knew that he was the one to blame this time. After all, he had decided to cook delicious lunch this morning. Usually, there had been more than enough time for that, but today he tried a new recipe. In any case, Toby didn't mind that despite his frequent, obviously-not-serious complaints about the impossibility to keep with his diet when certain someone continued to tempt him with his tasty cooking.
"One for me, one for mom and..." Jim took out a paper bag and handed it to his best friend. The reaction was much like he expected - Tobes opened the bag at once, checking contents by smell.
"Balsamic mushrooms, meatloaf, chunky, sun-dried tomatoes," he started to name the ingredients one by one.
"And cardamom," the lanky teen added, decided not to drag intrigue too much. They had no time for guessing games.
"Ohh!" Toby smiled with approval. "Taking a chance there, Chef Jim".
"What's a life without a little adventure?"
Yes, it was just a regular morning with familiar and enjoyable banter, and all of that had washed away all the remaining worries.
"I can't eat this. I'm on a diet," Toby claimed demonstratively after savoring the smell once again. They both knew it was a simple formality though. There had been some sense of deja vu in the entire situation. How many times had it happened so far?
"You've been on a diet for the past fourteen years, Tobes."
Well, maybe for not that long, but Jim could swear that his best friend made such declarations as long as he knew him.
"I know".
"You're 15," it was also more like a running gag by this time. His best friend had never refused a perfectly cooked lunch.
"Long-term goals. My body's still changing," Toby hid the lunch in his own bag. That one was quite a sore spot - the boys used to be around the same height for many years, and then Jim just had to overgrow his best friend by an impressive margin. At least, the plump teen didn't get too depressed because of that, claiming to be a late bloomer.
Both boys were riding their bikes as fast as they could as the time was running short.
"It's eight o'clock!" Jim pointed out with some annoyance.
"We're going to be suspended, on account of meatloaf!" Toby complained, even though no one forced him to wait for his neighbor. It had always been like that, no matter what happened, good or bad, they stuck together. It probably never even occurred to the plump teen that he could go to school alone. That was not their way. They had been a two-man single unit for years.
Nevertheless, as it wasn't the first time, both friends had already figured out the possibility of the shortcut through the nearby canal. Well, more like Jim had figured, and Toby followed begrudgingly.
"Take the canal, Tobes. It'll save us five minutes," Jim turned right, knowing that his buddy would ride after him, even if he didn't like the idea.
"Not... the... canal!" the redhead definitely didn't have any good memories about their previous attempts to save some time. Usually, those ended in some falls and nasty bruises.
"Oh, live a little," Jim dismissed the complaint at once. How was it possible not to feel some thrill riding a bike off-roads through the bumpy trail? The world itself felt less constricted during those brief seconds.
Well, his best friend definitely didn't share the sentiment.
"It's living that I'm worried about," he probably wanted to add something like 'preferably, without broken bones', but talking was already distracting enough when the plump teen did his best to control his bike.
Despite being late, that should have been just another boring and trivial day, and deep inside, Jim felt a bit sad because of that. His soul craved for something, something impossible to describe with words alone. Funny thing, sometimes the teen could swear he was capable of way more. It was quite a pity that hunch was just a weird delusion and mostly ended in embarrassments during P. E. lessons as the boy somehow overestimated the limits of his own body.
"Come on, Tobes. Don't you ever want a little more excitement?"
Excitement. Was that one the right word? Was that the thing he had been looking for all this time? Alas, Toby still wasn't in the mood, more worried about possible traumas.
Jim accelerated, and soon enough, the canal appeared between trees. The weird thing was something seemingly calling him there. The teen dismissed it quickly though - what was the point in such delusion?
The boy got ready for pulling one of the stunts he did pretty regularly. His mother would freak out if she ever learned about them - most of those could be traumatic if failed. Still, the teen couldn't help craving the sense of thrill he felt with his bike up in the air. That was an illusion of flight, an attempt to leave the boring land even for some seconds. Toby would never understand that - he preferred a more grounded and safer approach to crossing the canal.
Jim landed with grace and turned around to call his friend:
"Come on, Tobes!"
Probably he should have explained to Toby that slowing down right before the canal was a bad idea - higher speed would help to get enough momentum to cross it swiftly. Without it, on the other hand… Jim didn't even want to imagine the devastating result.
Yes, that would be just another typical morning, but... Before Jim had managed to get any other thought, he heard an unfamiliar voice.
'James Lake'.
Ok, that was crazy - he hadn't seen anyone nearby during his jump. Or maybe it was just a fruit of his imagination. The teen tried to look in the direction of the mysterious sound, still not seeing anyone. His mind barely registered Toby clumsily driving down the canal and crashing on the background.
There was something on the bottom of the canal, something that hadn't been there previously.
A pile of rocks? Who would put that one there and why?
And that voice came from it, apparently. That was nuts. Yet, some kind of the sixth sense told him to believe in it.
Jim approached the pile cautiously, not that sure about anything.
"Hey! Hey, Tobes," he called out to his friend. Some proof that he wasn't going crazy would definitely help. "Did you hear that voice?"
"What voice?" Toby also came near mysterious debris and started to look around.
So it was only imagination in the end. Probably it was no reason to stay for longer and...
'James Lake'
It was real. The voice called out once again, freaking out both boys and forcing them to jump back, landing on their butts.
"That! That pile of rocks knows my name," Jim got to his feet, recovering from the initial shock. In hindsight, his statement sounded quite ridiculous, but he didn't bother.
"It's a pile of K-spat. Minerals don't talk," Toby tried to find at least some semblance of logic even in this totally surreal situation. The redhead thought for a second and concluded that a prank could be more than possible. He knew several guys in school who could do that.
"There's got to be a walkie-talkie in here or something," he added. It was not that difficult to imagine some pranksters chuckling nearby. Maybe they had even filmed the entire thing in the hope of uploading it to the Internet.
Yes, the prank made perfect sense. Talking pile of rocks didn't.
Jim started to search through stones hoping to find a supposed walkie-talkie. There was something there, something glowing serene blue. The next moment, the boy extracted a round-shaped object.
Whatever it was, that one was obviously not a walkie-talkie. It was metallic, with a glowing blue gem in the middle, something resembling the hands of a clock, unknown runes encircling the entire thing, and weird images of some monster beings.
It was nearly eerie that it felt like that thing was calling for him. Not just at the moment - no, it was the same as the call that had led the teen to the canals.
"Huh. It looks like an amulet," Jim said in some confusion.
Amulet. That word came to his mind immediately when he started to ponder what kind of object it was. In a way, it was as if someone whispered the answer to him.
On the other hand, Toby still was dead set on his prank theory, yelling angrily:
"Who's doing this? Come out now!"
Yet his voice was the only one echoing in the dry canal. Jim wasn't even listening to that, his eyes glued to the mysterious amulet.
The strange voice had come out of that thing, he knew that for sure.
It wasn't just a prank.
There had to be more to that.
The amulet held some kind of secret.
It was his key to the world full of wonders.
"Hello. I'm listening," the teen said softly, putting the weird object to his ear. Probably, he looked like someone out of his mind. If it was an actual prank, someone would get hilarious footage.
Yet, it was also mesmerizing. It even made Toby also come closer, joining his best friend in his unhinged activity of listening to the inanimate object.
At that moment, they both genuinely believed in magic, waiting for some kind of miracle to happen.
Instead, the reality reminded about itself in the ugliest manner, breaking the tension with a shrill school bell.
They actually were late, so late that even their kids would have detention, according to Toby. Who would care about mysterious talking objects when there was an actual earthly huge problem hanging above their heads?
"Come on. Come on, Tobes. We can still make it," Jim hopped on his bike, banishing all the thoughts that had nothing to do with school. If they hurried, there would be at least a bleak hope for getting in time. There was no need for detentions - those were definitely far from excitement the teen wished for.
In haste, neither of the boys had noticed three glowing pairs of eyes watching them intently from the sewers...
One could mistakenly assume that the Trollhunter's duty got finished with their death. It couldn't get farther from the truth, as all the deceased protectors entered the Void - a mystical space between life and death, where they receded to guide and assist the current Champion of Merlin.
Kanjigar had been there many times while still alive, but it felt way different to enter it as a soul. The Void itself felt serene and solemn. The former Trollhunter could sense his predecessors being around, their emotions flowing right inside his mind. Some were sympathetic, some displeased, some indifferent. It couldn't be otherwise - all of them had different personalities, so their attitude towards Kanjigar's demise differed drastically as well. Maybe, later he should have tried to talk to some of them.
But not now, as the troll warrior had one last duty regarding the amulet. No one ever told him how the succession rite worked, yet he still somehow knew what he had to do. Was that also a part of the magic?
Kanjigar once heard from his predecessors that it was possible to watch the current Trollhunter in the world of the living, but at the moment, it seemed to be unavailable.
Perhaps, the reason was the absence of the Champion. How long would it take until the next one was chosen? In the past, it had taken from mere seconds to several days.
The sense of time inside the Void was pretty distorted, but Kanjigar assumed that no one would be able to take the mantle until the sunset. After all, he made sure that the amulet would land in the spot under sunlight to prevent it from ending in Bular's hands. Nevertheless, it simultaneously complicated the matter of succession as well. But was there any other choice?
The troll warrior wondered how long it would take before anyone at the Trollmarket noticed his absence. Someone would go investigating for sure, and that one had the highest chances of becoming the successor. Could that one be Draal? The possibility was high, yet even now, the father would prefer him to stay away.
Couldn't there be anyone else?
His train of thought stopped abruptly, as Kanjigar sensed it all of sudden - a bright and strong-willed soul approaching the amulet's location. The one the ancient artifact deemed to be worthy of the noble mantle of a protector.
The former Trollhunter reached farther with his senses as if trying to evaluate his successor as well. The aspects of their personality shined before him like facets of a gem. They were brave, with a strong sense of justice. A truly noble spirit, determined, responsible, and loyal. There was a lot of kindness and protectiveness too.
That was definitely someone worthy of the position, much to Kanjigar's relief. He could feel some conflict in that soul, some doubts, and probably even fear, but weren't those just things to overcome?
The troll warrior focused more, and the name he needed to call came to him naturally.
"James... Lake," it escaped his lips before the realization hit him heavily.
That was a human name. How could it be possible? Was his successor a changeling? Maybe a troll raised by humans - that would be far-fetched but no one could deny such possibility as there was a precedent?
Another option would be an actual human succeeding the mantle, which had never happened before. Hadn't Merlin given the amulet to trolls exactly because such a burden would be too much for humans to bear?
But could he doubt the amulet's choice? Kanjigar decided to believe in it, no matter what and called that obviously human name once again.
They said the only time you could refuse the role of the Trollhunter would be before picking up Merlin's artifact. According to rumors, it was still possible to run away then, and it would just choose someone else. Nevertheless, no one had ever checked - becoming a protector to the entire trollkind was a huge honor, and no troll in their right mind would reject that.
Yet, the mysterious James Lake wasn't in a hurry to take over the sacred obligation. For a second, Kanjigar even thought that he had run away. Everything could happen for the first time. Or not the first - someone had started that weird rumor of possibility to reject the mantle after all.
And then the troll warrior finally saw his successor as he had picked up the amulet.
"A fleshbag?"
"A child?"
The other former Trollhunters suddenly appeared beside Kanjigar, voicing their shock and barely hidden discontent. That was a successor no one had expected - he didn't look that big even for a human, not to mention his rather skinny build. It would be one thing if that James Lake was a fleshbag warrior as some of those were impressive, but everyone could tell that he had never gone through any real battle.
Besides, the current Trollhunter was very young. Kanjigar had never been that knowledgeable about humans, but even he could see that his successor wasn't an adult. Even though he most likely wasn't a small child as well, there was no point to argue that he was barely an adolescent.
A part of Kanjigar felt guilty - after all, he prayed for anyone but Draal as the next Trollhunter. Yes, there was no way that his selfish wish actually caused the current predicament, but it didn't change the gnawing feeling.
Other ghosts had started to leave already, some silently, some grumbling complaints. Someone even threw a tasteless joke about the possibility to beat Unkarr's record, though Kanjigar hadn't caught up who exactly muttered that one. In the end, only one other Trollhunter had remained by his side, and that certain someone was a huge surprise to see.
Deya the Deliverer. The first champion, the Banisher of Gunmar.
Now that Kanjigar actually had thought about that, she was the only one who hadn't voiced any kind of opinion so far. He knew Deya too well - she wasn't the one to stay silent. Especially not when she disliked something. No, Deya was bold and sassy, with some mischievous streak. She was a relatively young troll, after all, younger than a lot of her successors.
Yet now, the first Trollhunter didn't even look like her usual self - she was watching the newly chosen champion with a forlorn expression. It brought back memories about the times soon after the Gunmar's defeat when Deya had been often upset after facing her kind's prejudice.
"He's such a skinny-legs," she pointed out at last. "It won't be easy for him..."
"I wonder why the amulet has chosen him," Kanjigar sighed, figuring that Deya might have actually wished to discuss the matter with someone.
"Yeah, the times are dark for our kind, yet the amulet just happened to choose a true calamity," the female troll suddenly muttered with barely concealed sarcasm.
Those weren't words regarding James Lake. No, Kanjigar knew that his predecessor was simply quoting skeptics who were against her own being the trollkind's protector.
Did it mean that Deya wasn't actually against the idea of a human Trollhunter? It would make sense - if anything, she had always been able to think outside of the box.
"Are you approving of him?" Kanjigar asked carefully. The female troll shook her head:
"I cannot approve of someone I don't know even if I feel sorry for them".
"I see," he nodded. She was right actually, there was no place for blind trust in their position. However, the following reply certainly took Kanjigar aback.
"I'll believe in Skinny Legs instead," Deya's voice was full of determination. "Even if no other troll does... Our kind isn't a huge fan of outsiders. This kid will need to face a lot".
Kanjigar understood the reason for that resolve perfectly. It would be weird if someone used to be known as the Calamity couldn't sympathize with someone who was going to face a lot of skepticism.
"My friend," Deya looked at him seriously, "we both know our rules. The boy will come to the Void eventually. Among all of us, former Trollhunters, you will be his main advisor as our representative. I have a request though..."
She went silent as if in doubt.
"What kind?" Kanjigar asked her, knowing that he wouldn't be able to say no in any case. He respected the first champion too much for that.
"If he ever questions his right to hold the mantle," Deya answered slowly, "just let me talk to him..."