Free Bang Goes a Troll by David Sinden, Matthew Morgan, Guy Macdonald, Jonny Duddle Page B

high above Ulf’s neck.
    â€œYou’ll never get away with this,” Ulf said.
    â€œOh, 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.
    â€œNot 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.
    â€œThe 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.
    â€œSplendid,” 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.
    â€œThere’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.

    â€œEnjoy 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.”
    â€œFarraway 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.

    â€¢ • •
    â€œBone, 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.
    Chuck Armstrong was spinning a pistol on his finger. “Let’s get this party started,” he said.
    â€œGentlemen, Lady Semolina, if you would join me behind the security door?”
    The hunters filed out into the corridor, and the Baron pulled a lever on the wall. Metal bars lowered in the archway, sealing off the dungeons. The hunters peered in through the bars.

    â€œBlud, get ready with the bait!”
    Blud revved his engine. He turned the bike to face the end wall of the dungeons, then the Baron pulled a second lever and the end wall started lifting up, revealing the snowy valley outside. It stretched out in front of the dungeons. The snow looked blood-red in the setting sun. Spotlights came on in the valley, lighting up machines and contraptions on either side.
    â€œBehold the Predatron!” the Baron said. “The most thrilling hunting range known to man.”
    Blud sped out on the motorbike, dragging Dr. Fielding along the snow wrapped in the blanket of meat.
    Baron Marackai pulled a third lever and the