Sophie Quire and the Last Storyguard by Jonathan Auxier

Author:Jonathan Auxier
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Abrams
Published: 2016-02-29T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE NINE-ARMED DEATH

Sophie tried to scream as she plummeted down the long, narrow shaft, but the rush of air took the breath from her lungs. She fell for what must have been at least thirty feet before crashing to the floor, Sir Tode’s cage landing on top of her. To her relief—and then, immediately, dread—her fall was broken by something soft and slimy beneath her.

Sophie struggled to her knees. “What’s down here?”

Peter, who had jumped after her and was already on his feet, helped her up. “I’d rather not say.”

“Good heavens,” Sir Tode exclaimed in the nasal tones of a person trying very hard not to breathe. “It smells like a sewer crossed with an abattoir.”

“Follow the river, my cub!” A voice rang out high above them. “But whatever you do, don’t raise the floodgate.”

“Akrasia!” Sophie cried.

But Akrasia could no longer attend her. Taro had appeared at the opening and was trying to climb down after them. The tigress pounced on him and dragged him away. The two of them disappeared from view, battling their way across the floor of the library.

Sophie heard a giant crash, and the next moment, the opening was sealed shut by a fallen bookcase, leaving them in complete darkness.

“We have to help Akrasia!” she cried as rubble and books rained down on them.

She felt Peter’s hand grab her own. “No—we have to keep moving.”

Sophie picked up Sir Tode’s cage and then took Peter’s arm and followed him through the darkness.

For those of you who have never had the pleasure of visiting a dungeon, it will suffice to say that such places are as dreadful and damp as every romance and revenge-ballad has ever described. Most romances and ballads, however, leave out one crucial fact: Dungeons are generally built underground and, thus, have no windows. Without a torch to light the path, Sophie was forced to stumble blindly through complete darkness, clinging for dear life to Peter’s arm.

“Just stay with Peter,” Sir Tode said in a reassuring tone. “He’s in his element down here.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Peter said. “It would be nice to use my nose without gagging.”

They soon came upon what Sophie assumed was the channel that Akrasia had spoken of. She could hear water moving beside her. She tripped, her dress catching on something brittle and sharp—something that clattered across the slick floor. “Please tell me that wasn’t a skeleton,” she said.

On this subject, Peter remained troublingly silent.

They soon came to a larger area that was dimly lit by two rows of open trapdoors in the ceiling. An enormous iron gate separated the chamber from the rest of the dungeon. “I think that’s the menagerie up there,” Sophie said. She could hear the distant roars of animals. The foul odor was stronger here, and, as her eyes adjusted, she began to realize why.

Huge deposits of dung and molted fur rose up from the ground like rotting mountains. Thousands of skeletons and animal corpses lay scattered across the stones, many of them with viscera still attached.

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