The Huldra Hostility Read online

  Camp Lac Igam

  Book 2

  The Huldra Hostility

  By Michael Almich

  Published by Michael Almich at Smashwords

  Copyright © 2014 Michael Almich

  Cover Design Copyright © 2013

  by www.viladesign.net

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or to events or locations is entirely coincidental.

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  Dedication

  For my Father, Walter Almich, who loved to read, and catalyzed my passion for it. I miss you and wish you were here to see this book.

  ***********

  A special thanks to Jeanne Christy, Karen Remund, Melissa Almich, and Beth Meyers for their pre-publishing CATs (corrections, advice, and thoughts).

  Camp Lac Igam

  Book 2

  The Huldra Hostility

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: "Oi em a pooka,"

  Chapter Two: He was a target waiting for an arrow

  Chapter Three: " You cannot save him now, Shylock."

  Chapter Four: "Looks like Shy is our wolf howler,"

  Chapter Five: “I heard the laughing again… coming from the trees.”

  Chapter Six: Mission: rescue and return

  Chapter Seven: “Trolls, reds, goblins, and worse… She gathers them”

  Chapter Eight: Sunshine and chocolate chip cookies had been taken from the world

  Chapter Nine: “We will be OK without the axe.”

  Chapter Ten: A fire was lit in his belly that wouldn’t go out anytime soon

  Chapter Eleven: It was like the air itself held the hint of wrongness.

  Chapter Twelve: A glare of glory in his eyes

  Chapter Thirteen: “They are waiting for something or someone”

  Chapter Fourteen: He knew in his heart that he was right

  Chapter Fifteen: “Shylock, that was a hábrók.”

  Chapter Sixteen: “What if the moon is not out?”

  Chapter Seventeen: It was more like a symphony of flight

  Chapter Eighteen: Mostly troupes of trolls, and gaggles of goblins

  Epilogue: That moment of dreams where lucent thought overcomes sleep

  Pronunciations

  About the author

  Connect online

  Chapter One

  "Oi em a pooka"

  Shy couldn't see his mom through the open door to the principal's office, and by the tone of her voice, he was glad he couldn't. From the hard chair in the hallway, his sightline only included Principal Christie's desk. He could see the pained expression on the principal's face as she spoke to his mother. It must be because of the incident last week, he thought. Or, he added to himself, maybe the one back in March.

  He was so happy that school was almost out. He absently traced the lines of the cement block wall with his eyes. There wasn’t anything he could have done differently, he assured himself.

  The new school year started off poorly, and then it had just gotten worse. The first day he got in trouble for decking Crutch. He had dropped him right on the sidewalk outside the school with one punch. Shy wasn't so worried about that incident though; the bully had it coming to him.

  What worried him was the suspicious activity he had seen in the shadows behind the bully that fall day. That sighting of fairy creatures on the first day was just one of many over the course of the school year. As time went by, he began to notice a movement here, or a noise there. Often, it was in the periphery of his vision. It was never enough to raise anyone else's suspicions, but, after what had happened at camp, it certainly put him on guard.

  He had never even imagined that mythical fairy creatures were real until he went to Camp Lac Igam last summer. At camp, Shy had come to grips with the fact that he had a special ability. He could see through a certain type of fairy magic called Glamour. He and his new found friends went on to solve the fossegrimen’s riddle and find a fairy treasure, only it wasn't gold and other riches. It was a box that contained an ancient recipe that would give humans the ability that he already had. It had been hinted to him that this ability, in the hands of humankind, would probably lead to the destruction of fairykind. So, Shy had wanted to simply return the box and recipe, and forget all about it.

  It turned out to be far more complicated.

  The box also contained some ancient magic to protect it from the Unseelie, or evil fairies. This magic would give them enough power to control and dominate the Seelie fairies. Shy didn't really understand it, but it had occupied his thoughts continuously.

  As soon as school started, he had tried to learn everything he could about fey, fairies, Seelie, Unseelie, myths, legends, and folklore. One answer led to another question. Until, finally, his teachers started to notice. Mrs. Nelson thought he was obsessed with monsters and fairies. She had even told him so. She was a kind teacher, though, and tried to encourage him to turn his interest into a way to learn. He probably wouldn’t have ended up sitting in the hall, outside the principal’s office, eavesdropping on his mother’s conversation with the principal, if it had ended there.

  After Mrs. Nelson pulled him out of class to talk to him about his obsession, he took her words to heart, and backed off for a couple of weeks. However, around Halloween, two things happened to change the situation. First he had received the email from Tad, and then came the events on the first of November.

  When Shy had gotten home from camp, he had immediately emailed his counselor, Tad. He didn't get an immediate response, which was disheartening. So, within a few days he sent a second email to Tad, telling him about his fairy sighting on the first day.

  Finally, the day before Halloween, he received a long reply email from Tad. He had a reason for his delayed reply. It seemed that they had never found Gust after the camp games last summer. Clancy, the director of the camp, had eventually called in the authorities. Over the period of several weeks, the search and rescue had turned up nothing. It seemed he had just vanished. The search was formally closed by the sheriff. Clancy held a small, private memorial that Tad and Meg attended. Since Gust had no next-of-kin, and very few friends outside of the camp, he just remained a missing person.

  Then, a few days before he sent his reply to Shy, Tad received word from Clancy of a mysterious note she found stuffed in the camp mailbox. Since she only checked the mail at the camp a couple times a month during the off season, she didn't know when it had arrived.

  Clancy didn't know what to make of it, so she sent it out to the counselors from last summer to see if they could make any more sense of it. It was a ransom note, Tad was certain. He had called Mad Meg, and they agreed. It appeared the Unseelie fey had captured Gust and now were demanding the box, the very same one Shy had stashed at the old white farmhouse he lived in with his mom. Tad asked if it was still safe. He wanted to know what Shy was doing to protect it.

  Shy replied that, beyond hiding it, he hadn't taken any special precautions to protect the box. He found out two days later that his statement to Tad wasn’t entirely accurate.

  On the first of November, Shy woke up like any other day. Shep was lying across his feet at the foot of
the bed. Shy had grown taller over the summer and began to fill in a bit over the course of the fall, but Shep was still bigger than him. He subsequently took up most of the bottom half of Shy's bed, and was often reluctant to move and get going in the morning. Shy couldn't understand why, when all he did was lie around all day.

  On that particular day, Shy locked the farmhouse door as usual on his way out to the bus stop. Shep stayed outside during the day, lying in the open garage if the weather turned foul. He always accompanied Shy to the bus stop, however, and was always there when the bus dropped him off in the afternoon. Shy surmised that the dog's companionship and protectiveness was why Shy's mom allowed him to get off to school by himself, and come home to an empty house. She worked long hours since she had divorced Shy’s father.

  They lived in a rural farming area of southern Minnesota. The farms were spread out, and he had quite a walk to and from the bus stop every day. His route to school took him first along the road that passed through the woods behind his house, and eventually reached Claire's house. From her place, they would walk the last half mile to the stop. She was a good friend and they had become even closer after the events of last summer. Normally the walk to the stop was quite boring. It would consist of Shy kicking a rock along the road, and Shep trotting at his side. When he would reach Claire's she would scold him to quit kicking rocks and tell him everything she had watched on TV the night prior, how all of her homework went, and what interesting stories she had seen on the news. Shy usually didn't get the opportunity to say much, but he was fine with that.

  That morning, as he trudged alongside the woods, he noticed Shep acting unusual. The dog rarely ever growled or barked, so when Shy heard the rumble coming from the deep chest of the big black dog, he stopped.

  "What is it, Shep? What do you see?" he asked as he scanned the woods to his left.

  The big dog leaned into Shy and nudged him forward. Shy shrugged it off, but did keep one eye on the woods, as he remembered hearing reports of coyotes attacking house-pets. Shy thought that they weren't supposed to bother bigger dogs, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious and alert. He kept watch, but also went back to kicking his rock.

  Then, Shy heard Shep growl again, and the fur at the nape of his neck stood erect. He looked in the direction the dog was staring. The woods were dark in the early morning of the crisp fall day. The mixed broadleaf trees had shed most, if not all, of their leaves, but there seemed to be a fog hanging along the edge of the woods. Shy began to feel a nervousness creep over him, and picked up his pace. Shep matched him, but continued looking to the left and behind them.

  Shy could see the bend in the road far ahead that signaled the end of the small forest they were passing through, and the open farmland that surrounded Claire's house. Suddenly, he heard chattering whispers! He stopped again and squinted into the forest. Shep again started to growl, and nudged Shy forward.

  Shy stared at the foggy edge of the trees and his vision began to blur. He felt a slight snapping feeling, and his vision immediately cleared. Wherever he looked, the fog had cleared and Shy could see movement in the shadows. Small black figures hopped from shadow to shadow, avoiding the weak morning sunlight. He quickened his pace, and Shep's growling slowed and deepened further.

  Shy looked ahead; it was still a considerable ways to the end of the trees and the openness of the farm fields. Shep had now edged forward, and Shy again looked into the trees. He caught a clear glance of his followers: goblins!

  They were the same beetle black, bat-snouted, fierce-looking warriors that had surrounded Portia and Shy at the end of last summer camp. They must have realized that they had been spotted and their chance would soon slip away, because they suddenly leaped and sprang like crickets into the road ahead of Shy. He felt, more than actually saw, the few that covered the road behind him. They wanted the box… he knew. Just like at summer camp. They were probably under orders of the huldra.

  He tried to put on a brave front as his mind raced, searching for a plan. He had to get to Claire's house. The circle of goblins began to tighten, their gold tipped short spears thrust out in front of them. Their gait was unnatural in the open; they seemed built for jumping, twisting, and grabbing. They moved with a jerky motion, swaying slightly from side to side on the gravel road. Shy's only thought was to run and break through the line, and then sprint for Claire's. He would need to make a cut at the last second to avoid the spears. He had been imitating his favorite running backs in the front yard with Shep this fall. So, he reached deep down inside and tested his heart, his confidence. He could do it.

  He took one step forward, and instantly the goblins in that direction pointed their spears at him and began to jibber agitatedly. Before he could take another step, he felt commotion at his side. He turned and jumped back from Shep, or what had been Shep.

  He was now standing next to a nondescript man dressed in a long black leather trench coat, a black turtleneck shirt, black jeans, and surprisingly crisp, white canvas high-top shoes. He found out afterwards that this man was a pooka and that a pooka was a type of fairy that could change shapes. For a pooka it was once a year, on November first, that he could change into human form.

  The pooka, or Shep, strode in front of Shy. The goblins no longer chattered amongst themselves. Rather, they steadied their spears and resolutely closed in. Shy turned to watch the three foot high, black tusked goblin warriors tighten their circle and shut down any escape routes.

  The pooka now paced slowly around Shy, glaring at the goblins. Shy studied his intense face for a second, and then he quickly turned back to the goblins. It seemed wherever Shep passed, a wave of what Shy could only describe as fear would pass through the goblins in front of him. Before Shy could dwell on that thought, though, the first wave of goblins attacked.

  Half of the goblins, following some prearranged plan, rushed in at Shy and Shep. The remainder tightened their circle further, in case either of their two victims escaped the onslaught. Shep plunged forward immediately, while Shy, staring at the goblins behind them, remained frozen in place. He heard grunting from behind him. It sounded like Shep, yet he could only stare in horror as two goblins fast approached in their jerky, limping gait. Just as the first gold spear tip was about to reach him, Shy heard a gruff voice from behind.

  "Move!" the voice demanded.

  Shy could only force his legs to stumble two steps back, but it was enough. Shep, the pooka in his annual day of human form, leapt in front of Shy and wrested the spears away. Snapping the gold spear heads off by stepping on the end of the stick, Shep now had fashioned two staffs that he simultaneously spun as he advanced on the two goblins. They split and tried to approach him from either side.

  "Watch our backside," came the gruff voice a second time in a muted foreign accent.

  Shy turned and was floored by what he saw. In the few seconds that Shep had faced the goblins in that direction, the same amount of time that Shy had remained frozen, the pooka had decimated their ranks. Only one still stood, and it was limping back into the trees. The sun was now almost up. The shafts of light that were appearing through the leafless branches of the trees glinted off the black armor of the goblins strewn across the dirt road. Shy heard an ugly gurgling sound, and turned back towards Shep.

  It just didn't seem possible to the boy. Again, Shep had defeated almost all of the little black warriors that had been in front of them. Two ran off and followed the earlier one back into the woods. The rest were strewn about the ground, some leaking their black blood. Shy watched as the blood hissed and boiled, and eventually disappeared. In fact, as he continued to watch, mesmerized, the goblins faded from his sight one by one.

  Shep held the last remaining goblin several feet off the ground by its neck. It gurgled as the pooka held it firm.

  Only then did Shy's companion of many years, his pet, turn and look at him. The pooka smiled. Shy was uneasy, for at the time, he had no real idea who this person was. As they silently stared at each other, and the g
oblin thrashed and squirmed, Shy noticed the shaggy black hair. He looked into the man's eyes and saw something familiar. It all came crashing together as the Pooka spoke again.

  "She sent 'em. Dat damnedable 'uldra. I was wishin' this un 'ad give us sumpin. But 'ees no gonna talk," the pooka said as he looked at the last goblin, and flung him to the ditch. Shy watched as it picked itself up and ran. Then he looked back at the man.

  "You're Shep?" Shy asked. Then without waiting for an answer, he stated, "You're Shep!"

  "Wat were ye spectin', sumpin like-a wee lass up da road?" He gave Shy a sharp smile and a wink.

  Shy didn't know what to do, or think. Here was his buddy that he had shared his deepest thoughts with, that he had spent his summers with. Only now he was a person… a man… not a dog! Shy couldn't even begin to form the questions that had exploded in his brain, when Shep began to speak again.

  "Oi think we 'ad best be getting you up da road for da wee lassie. Oi 'ave a few tings to tell you as we go."

  Shy watched him shake out his hair, swipe at an itch on the side of his head, and turn and set out up the road. Shy looked around once more into the trees, and he saw no movement. He scuttled up next to the man in black.

  "What are you? I mean you must be fey…. Right?"

  "Oi em a pooka," he began, "an' you are in danger."

  "What's a pooka?" Shy asked.

  Shep ignored the question, but stopped to brush a fleck of dirt off his almost sparkly white canvas Converse.

  "Shylock, ya are bein' followed. All da time. I can watch out fir'ya here, but not at that school of ya's. D'em unseelie wan dis box. Dey wan it bad. Dat 'uldra's a bad 'un. You mind yerself… use dat gift n' look. Oi'll be changed back on the morrow. Oi only 'ave one day a year like this," he said as he pointed at his man body. "It's moi one chance a talk t'ya."