by David Sinden
“What have you done with it?” Bone asked.
“It’s a surprise,” Blud said, tapping the side of his nose. “You’ll have to wait and see.” The small man stepped across the corridor to a door marked TROPHY PROCESSING ROOM. “Come on. It’s time to grease the guillotine.”
Both men stepped inside. In the center of the room stood a tall contraption. This was the guillotine, a machine used to remove the heads of hunted beasts as trophies. It looked like a large metal bench with chains across it, and two steel uprights at one end. Between the uprights was a big metal blade.
Rats scurried across the room, sniffing around a basket on the floor at the end of the guillotine.
Blud kicked his way through the rats and jumped up on to the bench. “Get the grease,” he said.
From a tub in the corner of the room, Bone scooped out a handful of grease. He rubbed the grease up and down the steel uprights.
“Let’s try it,” Blud said. The small man took a meaty steak from his pocket and handed it to Bone. “Stick this under the blade.” He pulled on a rope at the side of the guillotine and the big metal blade started lifting up.
Bone laid the meat on the end of the bench.
Rats started jumping up, trying to nibble it.
Blud was singing: “You are the greaser. Grease, grease, grease. I am the chopper. Chop, chop, chop.” He let go of the rope and the metal blade dropped between the uprights. It thudded down, chopping the meat in two. A bloody chunk of steak fell into the basket on the floor. Rats scurried over, climbing into the basket to gobble the meat up.
“Blud! Bone!” they heard. “Where are you?”
Footsteps were coming along the corridor outside. The door opened and Baron Marackai looked in. He saw the meat in the basket. “You’re not to play with the guillotine!” he shouted. “We’ll need that nice and sharp for after the hunt. We’ll be making trophies from the trolls’ heads.”
Blud jumped down from the bench. “Sorry, Baron,” he said.
A rat scampered up Blud’s trouser leg.
“Are the giant and the vet secure?” the Baron asked.
“Yes, Baron,” Blud said, hopping and wriggling. He shook his leg.
“Then it’s time to prepare the Predatron. I want all the machines checked.”
Blud squealed as the rat nibbled.
“And stop messing around!”
Chapter 14
WITH THE SOUND OF THE RIVER FADING BEHIND them, Ulf and Tiana crept down a narrow passageway. They came to a dead end.
“We’re lost,” Tiana said.
Ulf took out his compass, checking his bearings.
Gumball crept beside him. “Gumball help,” the goblin said.
Gumball reached out and tapped his bony knuckles against the wall. It sounded as if the wall was made of metal.
Ulf pushed against it and a sheet of rusty corrugated iron bent outward. “Thanks, Gumball,” he said, ducking through.
He came out in a wide tunnel that was lit by a line of electric lightbulbs.
Tiana flew after him. “What is this place?” she asked.
The line of bulbs stretched in either direction, and rail tracks ran along the ground. The tunnel was made of rusting iron. Ladders were bolted to the walls, leading up and down through hatches.
Gumball scurried to Ulf’s side. “Nasty here,” he muttered.
“What do you mean, Gumball?” Ulf asked.
“Professor shut it long time ago.”
“Professor Farraway?”
Gumball stepped into the light. “Professor friend. Professor made me spotter,” he said proudly.
“I can’t think why,” Tiana muttered. She flew off down the tunnel.
The little goblin looked at Ulf, grinning with his broken teeth. “Gumball good spotter. I see everything.”
Ulf saw Gumball’s eyes creeping toward his compass. He slipped it back in his pocket.
“Ulf, look at this,” Tiana called.
Ulf ran to look. The fairy was hovering by a contraption on a wrought-iron stand. It looked like a huge metal box with a large tube poking from it. It had a mechanism of springs, rubber belts, and freshly greased cogs. Inside the box, Ulf could see big black balls, and on its side was a lever. A sign read STICKY STUCKY.
“What is this, Gumball?” Ulf asked. He turned back. The goblin was creeping up behind him, reaching for his pocket.
Gumball quickly pulled his hand back and started biting his dirty fingernails. “Hunters built the machines,” he mumbled. He pointed to a hatch in the wall that was bolted shut. “They hunted beasts out there.”
Ulf slid the bolt sideways and swung the hatch open. Daylight flooded in as he looked across a wide snowy valley. In its middle, a tall metal pole was sticking out of the ground. Hanging from the top of the pole, on a chain, was a large metal ball.
Further down the valley, he could make out the long metal arm of a crane. It was white with fresh snow, and on its end was a big mechanical claw.
On the ground by the crane, he saw the snow move. A hatch lifted open and a big man with a thick beard climbed out, carrying a pot and a shovel. Behind him came a small man dabbing his nose with a red rag.
“Look,” Ulf said.
It was the Baron’s men.
“What are they doing?” Tiana asked, flying to Ulf’s shoulder.
The big man began shovelling snow from the base of the crane. As he dug, Ulf heard a clang. It sounded like the ground beneath the snow was made of metal, too.
Nearby, the small man poked the snow with a stick, and a large metal disc sprang up on a spring. “Bone, here’s one!” he called.
The big man trudged over carrying the pot. He dipped his hand in, scooping out a lump of grease. He greased the spring, then pushed the disc back under the snow.
Ulf looked along the valley. He saw metal pipes poking up from the snow. On the sides of the valley he could make out snowy balconies and spotlights. The valley was entirely manmade. “I don’t like the look of this, Tiana,” he said, closing the hatch. “We should hurry.”
Ulf set off along the tunnel with Tiana flying after him. Beside the railtrack he found a four-wheeled cart turned upside down. Ulf turned the cart over.
“What are you doing, Ulf?” Tiana asked.
The cart had a wooden seat and pedals on the floor. Ulf lifted it on to the tracks and sat in it. “We’ll go faster in this,” he said.
He started pedalling and the cart began to move. Tiana perched on the front, holding on tightly as they picked up speed.
Gumball came running after them.
“Oh no, are you coming too, Gumball?” Tiana asked.
The goblin caught up and hopped in behind Ulf. “Gumball be passenger,” he said.
As they rolled forward, the tunnel widened. Above them, Ulf saw huge iron pistons stretching from one wall to the other. He pedalled past a sign saying THE CRUSHER.
The track weaved between girders, cables, and pipes. It was as if they were inside the workings of a huge machine. Ulf pedalled harder. Up ahead the track divided. One route continued straight; the other looped left and downward. The cart veered to the left.
Tiana shrieked as they whirled down.
Ulf lifted his feet. The pedals were spinning. “This is more like it!” he called.
Tiana clung to the front of the cart, trying not to be blown away.
“We’re going under the valley,” Ulf said.
The track twisted and turned and the cart sped down between dozens of metal columns. The columns rose from floor to ceiling. Ulf saw more tracks running off into the darkness as they shot past a sign saying FOREST OF FEAR. Above him, through metal grating, Ulf could see snow.
The track weaved, then twisted upwards again. Ulf pedalled up a slope and the wheels squeaked. As he reached the top, the cart lurched round a bend and Ulf saw a sign saying DROWING POOL.
Gumball stood up and leaned forward. “Wolfy pedal good,” he said.
“Sit down,” Ulf said. “Yo
u’ll fall out.”
Gumball wobbled and fell on to Ulf. “Oopsy,” the goblin said, grinning. He sat back down as the track straightened.
They passed shelves full of boulders lined up above a metal chute. The chute was poking out into the valley. SKITTLE ALLEY, another sign read.
“Look, Ulf!” Tiana said, pointing ahead.
The track was coming to an end. Ulf saw empty pedal-carts parked in a circle. Beyond them was a big wooden door.
Gumball pulled a lever on the side of the cart and it squeaked to a halt. He hopped out and scuttled behind the pedal-carts. “Loadem Lodge behind that door,” he said. “Good luck.”
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. . . .
Chapter 15
ULF 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!”
Chapter 16
ULF 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.
