Bang Goes a Troll (14 page)

T
HE NEXT DAY
, U
LF WOKE LATE WITH THE SUN ON
his face. He opened his eyes. He was back in his den at Farraway Hall. Folded outside his door were a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He pulled them on and stepped out into the sunshine.

Tiana came flying from the paddock. “Good afternoon, Ulf,” she said. “You were brilliant last night!”

Ulf rubbed his eyes. “Was I?” he asked.

“Don't you remember? You stopped the troll hunt. You saved Dr. Fielding.”

Ulf licked his teeth. His fangs had receded back
into his gums. The memory of his transformation was a blur.

“How did we get home?” he asked.

“Orson straightened the helicopter blades and we flew back this morning. After waiting for you, of course. You went wild last night, chasing snow hares. Dr. Fielding let you loose in the mountains.”

Ulf smiled.

“Come on. Dr. Fielding asked me to come and get you,” Tiana said.

The fairy flew off and Ulf followed her up the side of the paddock into the yard.

“Afternoon, Ulf,” he heard.

Orson came out of the feedstore. The giant had a crutch under his arm made from a tree trunk, and a bandage wrapped around his head.

“Are you okay, Orson?” Ulf asked.

“Nothing that a barrel of apples and a bucket of tea won't mend. You were brave last night, Ulf. You showed those hunters.”

“They'll all be behind bars by now,” Dr. Fielding said, stepping out from the side door of Farraway Hall. “The department for National and International Criminal Emergencies was very interested to hear what they'd been up to.”

“NICE?” Ulf said.

“I called NICE from Loadem Lodge. They've arrested the hunters and are dismantling the Predatron.”

Dr. Fielding was carrying the bat-cage with Gumball's messenger bat inside. She smiled at Ulf. “Thank you for saving me last night,” she said. She put the bat-cage down and gave Ulf a big hug.

“That's okay, Dr. Fielding,” Ulf said, wriggling away.

He looked at the bat. It was nibbling a grasshopper, feeding up for its journey home. “I couldn't have done it without Gumball. Gumball rescued me.”

“It seems Professor Farraway knew what he was
doing, making Gumball a spotter,” Dr. Fielding said. She glanced at Tiana and winked.

“I still think he smells.” Tiana giggled.

Dr. Fielding knelt down and opened the door of the bat-cage. “Would you like to release the messenger bat, Ulf?” she asked.

Ulf reached in and picked up Gumball's bat.

“One moment, Ulf,” Dr. Fielding said. From the pocket of her white coat she took out a scrap of paper. On it, she'd written, THANK YOU.

Dr. Fielding slipped the message into the ring on the bat's leg, then Ulf released it into the air. He watched as it circled high above the yard then flew off over Farraway Hall.

“Bye-bye, batty!” Ulf heard. Druce the gargoyle was bounding along the rooftop, waving.

Ulf watched the bat fly away until it was a tiny dot in the distance. “What about the trolls?” he asked Dr. Fielding.

“Trolls are tough beasts. They'll be fine,” she told
him. “Those young ones will be safely back with their families by now.”

Ulf wondered if they'd eaten the Baron.

“There's something I don't quite understand,” he said. “How did Marackai know about the Predatron?”

Dr. Fielding glanced at Orson. Orson nodded. “I think there's something you should see, Ulf,” she said.

Ulf followed Dr. Fielding into her office.

“You'd better sit down, Ulf. I'm afraid this is quite shocking.” On Dr. Fielding's desk was a leatherbound photograph album. “We found this at Loadem Lodge.”

Ulf sat in the chair at Dr. Fielding's desk. He opened the album and started turning the pages. Ulf saw old black-and-white photographs. “This is horrible,” he said.

In each photograph, a hunter was holding up the head of a dead beast mounted on a plaque like a
trophy. There were troll heads . . . griffin heads . . . giranha heads . . . jackalope heads . . . and in one of the pictures a hunter was holding the head of a werewolf.

Ulf felt sick. “How can humans be so cruel?” he asked.

“Those hunters aren't just any humans, Ulf. They're all Farraways,” Dr. Fielding said. “They're the Professor's ancestors.”

“Professor Farraway?” Ulf asked.

“The Professor was born into a long line of hunters, Ulf.”

“I don't understand,” Ulf said. “The Professor was a good man.”

Dr. Fielding turned the pages in the album to a photograph of a man standing beside a single metal tree. “This man is the Professor's great-great-grandfather,” she said. “It seems he built the Predatron.”

The man's face looked twisted and mean.

“Professor Farraway wasn't like the rest of his family, Ulf. He stopped the Predatron when he inherited the Farraway estate. He set up the RSPCB to protect beasts and to make amends for what his ancestors had done.”

Ulf felt shocked. “You mean all the Farraways were bad?”

Then he remembered being chained to the guillotine. Marackai had called the Professor a traitor to the Farraway name.

“It wasn't Marackai who was the disgrace to the Farraway family, Ulf. It was the Professor.”

Dr. Fielding closed the photograph album. “It's over now, though,” she said. “Marackai's gone, thanks to you.”

Dr. Fielding whistled and the Helping Hand scuttled in. “File this under Historical Hunting, will you please?”

The Helping Hand took the photograph album and carried it to a cupboard at the back of the
room.

Dr. Fielding opened her office door and Ulf followed her into the corridor. “You should do something fun today, Ulf. You've had a tough night.”

“I'm okay,” Ulf said.

She ruffled his hair. “Why don't you come to the hatching bay with me? We've got some jellystoats that are due to be born any moment.”

“I will in a bit,” Ulf told her. “There's something I need to do first.”

Dr. Fielding headed down the corridor. “Okay, I'll see you later.”

Ulf ran up the back stairs. He raced through the Room of Curiosities and opened the library door. It was dark inside. “Professor, are you in here?” he asked.

On a table by the end wall, a candle flickered on, lighting up a portrait of Professor Farraway.

“I know about your family,” Ulf said.