Bang Goes a Troll (10 page)

He was holding something in his hands.

“Hang on, what's that you've got?” Tiana asked suspiciously. She flew over to Gumball.

The little goblin was clutching Ulf's compass.

“Hey! Give that back, slimeball!” Tiana cried.

“Mine now,” Gumball said. “My shiny.”

“Thief!” Tiana said. “Ulf, he picked your pocket!”

Gumball clutched the compass to his chest.

Ulf climbed out of the pedal-cart. “It's okay, Gumball, you can keep it now,” he told him.

“Keep?” Gumball asked.

“Yes,” Ulf replied.

Gumball stepped forward. He was smiling. “Friend,” he said, holding out his bony hand.

Ulf shook it. Gumball's hand felt cold and frail. “Thank you for helping us get here,” Ulf said to him.

Tiana glowed furiously. “But he stole it from you, Ulf!”

“We don't need it anymore,” Ulf told her. “Come on, it's time to save Dr. Fielding and Orson.”

He stepped past the pedal-carts to the wooden door, then looked over his shoulder. “Gumball, are you coming too?”

The little goblin was polishing the silver compass. “No. I keep watch,” he muttered, stepping into the shadows.

“Oh, sure he will,” Tiana said, flying to Ulf's shoulder. “He'll be off as soon as we're inside. He only came for your compass.”

The goblin's white eyes were blinking in the shadows. Ulf smiled, then he pushed the big wooden door open and stepped inside. He found himself in a stone corridor. Ulf glanced down a line of flaming torches lighting the walls. He could hear a voice coming from beyond a stone archway at the end of the corridor: “AND THIS IS WHAT YOU'LL BE HUNTING!”

It was the voice of Baron Marackai. . . .

U
LF CREPT ALONG THE FLAME-LIT CORRIDOR PAST
doors marked TROPHY-PROCESSING ROOM, BAIT ROOM, and ARMORY. He stopped at the stone archway, hidden in the shadows. Tiana flew beside him and hovered above three levers sticking out from the wall.

They peered into what looked like dungeons. Standing less than ten yards away, with his back to them, was Baron Marackai. The Baron was dressed in a fur coat and serpent-skin boots. With him were five humans in camouflage clothing.

“Hunters,” Ulf whispered.

They were facing a row of cages. Inside each cage a big green troll was snorting and grunting.

“As you can see,” Baron Marackai said, “we have gathered only the finest specimens. Each of them is young and unblemished. Their heads will look splendid displayed on the walls of your homes.”

Baron Marackai led the hunters along the row of cages.

“Ven can ve kill zem?” a man with a red face asked.

“Not long now, Herr Pinkel. In just a few moments, I shall release these beasts into our magnificent hunting range where you can pursue them with weapons of your choice.”

“We no be in danger?” a man with a ponytail asked.

“Of course not, Señor Pedroso. I can assure you that these beasts do not stand a chance. Everything has been carefully designed to the hunter's advantage.”

At that moment, Ulf heard a clattering sound from back down the corridor; a pedal-cart was pulling up in the tunnel.

“Quick, Ulf, hide,” Tiana whispered.

Ulf crawled quietly into the dungeons and hid behind a large wooden crate. It smelt of meat.

Tiana perched on his shoulder. They peered around the side of the crate as the Baron's men entered through the archway.

The Baron turned to the men. “About time, too,” he said. “Are the machines ready?”

“All oiled and greased, sir,” Blud replied.

“Marvelous!”

The Baron faced the hunters. He smiled. “Tonight marks our opening night, so I have prepared a special treat for you, a bonus prize for one lucky shooter.”

The Baron strode along the cages. At the end of the row was a cage draped in camouflage netting.
He pulled the netting aside. “Imagine that big head on your wall!”

The hunters gasped.

“A giant!” a big man in sunglasses said.

“Not just any giant, Mr. Biggles,” the Baron replied. “This is the RSPCB's giant!”

Inside the cage, Ulf saw Orson lying on the floor unconscious.

Bone stepped across with a bucket of water and threw it over the giant.

Orson's eyes opened and he slowly sat up. “What's going on?” he groaned.

“Welcome to Loadem Lodge,” the Baron said through the bars.

Orson stood up, hunched over. He was too big for the cage. He saw the trolls in the cages alongside him. “What are they doing here?”

“The same as you, Mr. Orson,” the Baron replied. “Preparing to die.”

The hunters laughed.

A man in a cowboy hat pointed his finger like a gun. “Pow! Pow! I'm gonna get that giant!”

“There's plenty of him to aim for, Mr. Armstrong,” the Baron replied.

Orson shook the bars of his cage. “Where's Dr. Fielding?” he demanded.

Baron Marackai grinned. “Oh, that reminds me. Blud, fetch the bait!”

Blud left the room, and a moment later Ulf heard an engine start. Blud rode back through the archway on a black motorbike, dragging Dr. Fielding on a rope. She was being pulled along the stone floor.

“What has he done to her?” Tiana whispered in horror.

Dr. Fielding's hands and feet were tied, her mouth was gagged with a crusty red rag and she was wrapped in a blanket of meaty steaks.

The trolls started grunting and drooling when they smelled the steaks. They clattered their tusks
against the bars.

Baron Marackai was laughing. “Oh, I do love your outfit, Dr. Fielding,” he said, prodding one of the steaks with his finger.

“I'll crush you, Marackai,” Orson boomed from his cage.

The Baron turned. “Empty threats under the circum stances, Mr. Orson.”

He faced the hunters. “Everyone, please do show your appreciation for Dr. Fielding, the RSPCB vet.”

“Boo! Hiss!” the hunters cried.

“Tonight, she will be our bait. We shall use her to lure the trolls to your guns.”

Dr. Fielding lay wriggling on the floor, wrapped in the meat blanket and unable to stand.

The Baron raised his right hand. “Death to the RSPCB!” he said.

The hunters held up their right hands and folded down their little fingers. “Death to the RSPCB!”

Ulf clenched his fist.

“Ulf, don't do anything stupid,” Tiana warned.

“Hunters, it's time to begin the hunt!”

Ulf leaped over the crate. “Stop!” he shouted, diving and knocking Baron Marackai to the floor.

“Werewolf!” the Baron cried. “What are y—”

Ulf bashed him on the nose.

“Ouch! Bone, get him off me!”

Ulf felt a pair of strong hands dragging him off. The big man threw Ulf to the floor, pinning him down with his boot.

“Well, well,” Baron Marackai said, standing up and rubbing his nose. “So you decided to join us after all, werewolf.” He glanced to the hunters. “I loathe werewolves,” he said.

A woman with a moustache peered down at Ulf. “Can we hunt it?” she asked.

“Not this one, Lady Semolina,” Baron Marackai said. “This beast's mine.”

Ulf was struggling beneath Bone's boot. It was pressed hard to his chest and he could barely breathe.

“Leave him alone or I'll tear your arms off!” Orson called through the bars of his cage.

Baron Marackai laughed. “No you won't, Mr. Orson. You're going in the Predatron where you'll be killed like any other beast. Hunters, fetch your weapons! BONE, BRING THE WERE-WOLF TO THE PROCESSING ROOM!”

U
LF WAS CARRIED, PUNCHING AND STRUGGLING
,
down the stone corridor to a room that was writhing with rats.

“Lay him on the guillotine,” the Baron said.

Bone dumped Ulf onto a contraption in the middle of the room.

“Face up,” the Baron ordered.

Bone flipped Ulf onto his back, pressing him flat on a bench. Ulf scratched Bone's arm.

“Ow! Stop squirming, you little twerp.”

“Tie him,” Baron Marackai said. He stood at the end of the contraption and pulled on a rope.

The big man pushed Ulf's head out over the end of the bench and began wrapping him in chains.

Ulf looked up.

As the Baron pulled the rope, a large metal blade was lifting high above Ulf's neck.

“You'll never get away with this,” Ulf said.

“Oh, but I will,” the Baron replied, grinning. “The RSPCB is finished.”

Bone pulled the chains tight around Ulf's legs and arms. “Can I do the chopping?” the big man asked.

“Not yet,” Baron Marackai said. “I want his beast head.”

The blade was suspended above Ulf, ready to drop. The Baron tied the rope to a hook on the floor, then stepped to the wall and reached up, opening a high metal hatch. A cold wind blew in and Ulf could see the sky outside. Evening was setting in.

“The moon will rise soon,” the Baron told him,
checking Ulf's chains. “Wrap more on, Bone. I don't want him breaking free when he transforms.”

Bone wrapped more chains around Ulf and fastened their ends with a padlock. He took the key from the lock and handed it to the Baron.

“Splendid,” Baron Marackai said, slipping the key into the pocket of his fur coat.

Ulf tried to move his arms and legs, but he couldn't.

“There's no point in struggling, werewolf,” the Baron said. “You're not getting out alive.”

Ulf twisted his neck and saw a basket below his head at the end of the bench. It was writhing with rats.

The Baron felt in the basket and pulled out a chewed piece of meat. “Come and finish your dinner, little rats,” he said. The Baron wiped the meat up and down the rope that secured the guillotine blade.

Ulf saw the rats scurry to the rope. They started chewing it.

“Enjoy your transformation, werewolf. It will be your last,” the Baron said. He rubbed the stump on his right hand where his little finger was missing. “You've messed up my plans once too often. But soon I'll be rid of you. Farraway Hall will be mine.”

“Farraway Hall belongs to the RSPCB,” Ulf said. “Professor Farraway never wanted you to have it.”

The Baron stepped to the door. “My father was a traitor to the Farraway name,” he spat. “Come on, Bone. It's time to go hunting.”

Ulf looked up at the blade, then at the rats gnawing the rope. “Let me out!” he shouted, struggling.

As the Baron and Bone left the room, the Baron glanced over his shoulder. “Now, now, werewolf. Try not to lose your head.”

He grinned, then slammed the door shut behind him.

• • •

“Bone, start the machines!” the Baron ordered.

The big man headed off down the corridor to the pedal-carts.

Baron Marackai walked to the archway. He stood by three levers on the wall, looking into the dungeons.

Blud was revving the engine on his motorbike. The trolls were oofing, reaching through the bars trying to grab Dr. Fielding in the blanket of meat. The hunters were waiting with weapons: pistols and rifles, bows and arrows, knives and harpoon guns.