Salamaine's Curse (3 page)

The serpent shot toward him at torpedo-like speed. But instead of ramming his boat, the serpent performed an abrupt ninety degree turn and slithered along the side of it, rubbing its body along the wooden length as though scratching an itch. Tom's hull tilted wildly, nearly tossing him overboard. He caught his balance and watched as the serpent slithered in a sinister figure eight, twisting itself between his boat and Fred's, as though daring Tom to make the leap.

The boats rocked and pitched, knocked about by the creature's enormous weight and length. As the serpent reached the bow of Tom's boat, it abruptly swerved from its menacing orbit. Moving with astonishing agility given its size, its head and neck shot out of the water. It stopped just short of Tom's face, its burning red eyes inches away, its fangs glistening, its slimy forked tongue almost tickling his nose.

The creature released a shrill hiss. A gust of blazing hot, foul breath brushed Tom's skin, fanning his face like a blast of air from a roaring fire.

Tom let out a frantic yelp and lurched backward. His sneakers slipped on the boat's wet floor. He lost his footing and fell hard, slamming his back against the boat's edge. White-hot shards of pain shot up his spine. He let out a low groan and rolled onto his hands and knees in time to see the serpent, wearing an expression that could only be described as a sinister smirk, slide back into the murky depths. It was toying with him, Tom realized, playing some kind of twisted game. Anger surged through him, temporarily replacing the terror that had paralyzed him in place. Getting to his feet, he tightened his grip on an oar, brought it over his head, and swung it down hard. He hit the serpent's flesh, landing with a soft
splat
that did nothing to injure the creature or drive it away.

Instead, the creature's blood-red eyes flashed with fury.

Retaliation was swift and brutal. The serpent's tail shot out of the water and slammed against the boat. Wood splintered and cracked, flying everywhere, leaving a hole in the side of the boat the size of an enormous shark bite. Icy water poured in, drenching Tom's feet and ankles.

It was only a matter of minutes—maybe seconds—until his boat would sink. Left with no other option, Tom sprang into Fred's boat. The vessel rocked heavily toward the bow. He shifted to the stern, but the boat still wouldn't stabilize. It took him a second to realize why. Their boats remained securely tied together. As the lead boat continued to take on water, it was pulling Fred's boat down with it.

Tom lunged for the rope and fumbled with the knot, frantically tugging until it slipped loose. He set his boat free and watched it flounder, then sink beneath the murky water with an audible
glub, glub, glub.

The serpent thrashed about in a state of frenzied excitement, as though searching for Tom in the boat's watery remains.

The cutlass. Now was his chance. Tom spun toward Fred and tugged at the duct tape that fixed the sword to his palm. He'd nearly worked it free when the sound of the serpent's rattle rang in his ear. Tom froze. His gaze shot to the lake. The creature's glowing red eyes watched him. Then, before he could react, it lifted its tail from the water and drew the hard, rattlelike tip down his cheek in a slow caress. Tom's blood went cold.

The serpent lunged. Tom, gripping the cutlass, twisted sideways and dove for the bottom of the boat. Having missed Tom, the serpent coiled its enormous tail around Fred, lifted the statue, and slammed it into the dark, frigid depths of the lake.

Seconds passed.

The creature coughed up a spray of feathers and whacked its tail against the water, leaving Tom with the distinct impression that it was
his head
the monster had hoped to devour, not Fred's toy parrot. And it was definitely not pleased with the substitution.

The serpent shot out of the water and lunged again. Its fiery eyes blazed, its fangs glistened. Tom ducked and swung his cutlass, aiming for thecreature's throat.

He missed.

Instead of hitting the serpent's neck, his rusty blade sliced through the creature's tail, severing the rattle tip from the rest of its body. The serpent gave a shrill, high-pitched whine and arched out of the water, thrashing madly. Then gravity took hold of it. The full weight of its body collapsed on top of the boat, smashing it into a thousand pieces and pitching Tom into the lake.

Cold. Icy cold. The shock of it stabbed his skin like thousands of sharp, stinging needles driven into his body at once. His muscles locked in a spasm of protest, but fortunately he didn't need to swim. His life vest returned him to the surface. Gasping, Tom drew in a lungful of air. He brought up the cutlass and peered into the darkness, readying himself for the serpent's next attack.

But the water was eerily quiet. The creature was gone— at least for the moment. The only sign that the serpent had been there at all was the rattle tip of its amputated tail, which glowed a deep pinkish-orange as it bobbed in the water in front of him. Tom stared at it, totally transfixed. The rattle was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. It looked like some rare jewel that had come to life before his very eyes. Unable to stop himself, he reached for it.

A splash sounded behind him. Tom whirled around, his heart beating wildly.

Fred. The statue popped to the surface. Apparently his hollow build gave him enough buoyancy to float. Fred stared at the sky with an expression of mild surprise on his face, as though he hadn't expected to find himself in a lake at midnight, victim of a sea serpent attack.

Tom knew exactly how he felt.

Icy cold seeped into his body. He could feel his limbs tingling, his fingers and toes going numb. He had to get out of the frigid water fast or he wouldn't be able to move at all. And he definitely didn't want to be in the lake when the serpent decided to come back. Left with no choice, he grabbed a single oar floating nearby and swam toward Fred.

He reached the statue and clumsily heaved himself across it. Straddling Fred's chest, he rode him like a chubby surfboard, paddling frantically toward the beach, terrified he'd spot a pair of burning red eyes trailing him in the water. Fortunately, his luck held and he made it back before the serpent returned.

Half-frozen, he dragged Fred ashore and parked him at the water's edge. Then he flopped face-down in the dirt, breathing hard.

A shadowy figure emerged from the bushes and strode toward him. Tom tensed and reached for the cutlass, but abruptly realized it must have slipped away from him somewhere in the lake. The man moved forward, stopping only inches from his head. Tom angled his neck back and saw a booted foot. A
single
booted foot and a wooden peg leg. Relief poured through him.

Umbrey.

“Interesting vessel you got there, lad.” Umbrey nodded toward Fred. “But if you judge a man by the ship he captains, I'd say you're in pretty rough shape.”

“At least I came back alive.”

“Ah. The first rule of sailing: Don't drown. Well done.” Umbrey peered down at Tom. “Looks like you got a little wet, however.”

“It's a wet lake.”

“Aye. Most of them are.”

Tom and his friends had dressed Fred to resemble a pirate, but Umbrey was the real deal. Peg leg, ruffled shirt, knee breeches, and a velvet blazer. His skin was weathered from the sun and his voice was low and deep—the kind of voice that could carry orders across the deck of a ship.

Tom was about to ask him what had brought him there when something occurred to him. He scanned the beach. “Hey. Where'd everybody go?”

“Mortimer was here a few minutes ago. Discovered they were missing from their beds and chased ‘em all back to school.”

Tom groaned and rolled over. Perfect. Just when he thought the night couldn't get any worse. He'd earned another demerit on Professor Lost's list.

“What happened to you?” Umbrey demanded.

“There's something in the water. An eel … a sea serpent. I don't know. It attacked me.” He reached into his pocket for the rattle tip of the creature's tail, which he'd grabbed before heading for shore. He withdrew it and passed it to Umbrey.

“So that's the stink on you.” Umbrey gave the tail a shake. “A folly.
Pholidae,
technically. Nasty creatures. Fortunately for you, they like to play with their food before they eat it. Gives a man a fighting chance.” He looked at Tom. “How'd you know its weak spot was its rattle?”

“I didn't. I was aiming for its throat.”

“Beginner's luck, eh?”

Wincing at the throbbing ache in his back, Tom slowly got to his feet. “Yeah, I feel real lucky.”

“Watch your tongue, lad. Sarcasm is not becoming of a sailor.”

Tom wanted to remind him that he wasn't a sailor at all, just a normal fourteen-year-old kid who'd discovered a world he'd never guessed existed, met a twin brother he'd never known he had, and learned that he had been born with the unique ability to make ancient maps come alive. A dubious skill. It had led to him being chased by an evil army, nearly torn apart by savage dogs, swarmed by dragons, and threatened by tribal warriors. Now he could add attacked by a sea serpent to the list. He would have mentioned that, but Umbrey wasn't the sympathetic type. He probably would have just accused him of whining.

So Tom turned his attention instead to removing his life vest and wringing the ice water from his shirt. When he finished he found Umbrey watching him, a curious expression on his face.

“You don't know then, do you?”

“Know what?”

“About follies. There are men who've devoted their entire lives to hunting these creatures.” He held the tip of the folly's tail aloft and gave it a soft shake. “Just to claim this prize.”

“That thing?
Why?”

“Think, lad. What does the word
folly
mean?”

Tom vaguely recalled seeing it once on a vocabulary test. He dredged his memory. “I don't know … doing something foolish, I guess. Building something ridiculous. Acting without thinking or showing good sense.”

“Aye. Like making a wish and not understanding the consequences.”

“Right.” Tom nodded, then froze as Umbrey's words slowly sank in. “Making a wish? You don't mean …”

“I do.” He tossed the tail back to Tom. “Only the one who captures the serpent's rattle can make the wish, and only once. So think hard before using it, if you choose to use it at all.”

If
he chose to use it?
If?