Abarat: The First Book of Hours by Clive Barker

Author:Clive Barker
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780062044013
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2012-02-14T20:03:07+00:00

Chapter 25

Mischief Undone

A DRAGON IT WAS; a worm of the sea-going variety. It rose up twenty feet above the seething waters, the back of its head spread like the hood of a cobra, and lined with foot-long spikes. Its very appearance rocked the Belbelo so violently that it nearly capsized.

“A’zo and Cha!” Mischief said. “Look at that thing!”

“Get the child!” Geneva yelled.

Two-Toed Tom immediately raced up the length of the rocking vessel to claim Tria from the bow. Even the sudden arrival of the great serpent had not disturbed her from her meditations on Finnegan’s whereabouts. But she put up no protest when Tom took her from her vulnerable position and brought her into the little cabin.

The dragon, meanwhile, was speaking.

“These waters are mine,” it said, its voice deep and smooth; its tone quite equitable. “I demand a toll from anyone who sails through them.” Its head swooped low as it scanned those upon the deck of the Belbelo. “Today, I will be generous. In return for your trespass here, I will only take . . . let me see, what will I take?” It sniffed, its head skimming the creaking boards of the boat. “I shall take a girl-child,” it said. “Where is she? Don’t hide her away.”

The dragon’s head drew closer to the cabin door.

“Bring her out!” the dragon demanded. “Come on! Let me have her and I will guarantee you safe passage.”

He turned to Carlotti.

“What is your destination, sir?” the worm said, all politeness.

Carlotti shook his head.

“Don’t deny me now,” the dragon went on, its terrible teeth perilously close to poor Carlotti’s head, as though in an instant it would behead him.

“You’ll get no answers from him,” said Geneva, glancing around to locate her sword. “He has no tongue.”

“Ah,” said the dragon, turning to Geneva. “Then you tell me, woman. Where are you headed? To the Nonce is it?”

“Maybe.”

“I can work up a current with my tail that will get you there in half the time.”

“I’m sure you can,” said Geneva, pulling her sword out from the heap of garments where it lay.

“Just give me the girl-child,” the dragon said, breathing so hard on the cabin doors they shook.

“Not a chance,” said Geneva, poking the side of the dragon’s throat with her sword, drawing its attention away from the cabin.

The beast threw its cadaverous gaze back toward her.

“Now don’t incense me, woman,” the worm said. “Just let me have my toll.”

“You heard me, worm,” Geneva replied. “Not a chance.”

“Damn thee, woman,” the dragon said. “Take this!”

It made a foul retching sound and suddenly regurgitated the contents of its five stomachs in a noisome torrent that struck Geneva with such force it threw her across the deck. Her sword went out of her hand and spun across the boards.

Geneva pulled herself to her feet, her boots sliding in the slime of the dragon’s stomach juices. Twice she slipped, but on the third attempt, she succeeded in standing upright. She had picked a new weapon—one of the bigger bones the worm had spewed up.

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