Salamaine's Curse

by V. L. Burgess

  Tom shook his head. Nothing like sticking to the pure, unvarnished truth to really motivate people.

  Umbrey slapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. “On the other hand, you might just succeed in ridding our lands of those vile creatures once and for all. So. There you have it. You’ve been told what you’re up against. Who among you will risk his life to help them?”

  His crew gave a roar and surged across the plank, joining the men of the Crimson Belle. Umbrey nodded approvingly. “They’re a rough, scurvy lot, but they’ve got spine.” Then he stepped down from his makeshift podium and looked at Zaputo. “They’re well trained, as loyal as the day is long, and they follow orders. You’ll get no trouble from them.”

  They wasted no time getting to work. There was much to do, and little time to do it. A few of the Divino captives—very young children and infants, along with the elderly or those too ill to fight—were escorted back to the Purgatory. The rest of the men and women of Divino remained aboard the Crimson Belle to assist with the coming battle at Arx.

  They transferred dinghies from one ship to the other and lashed them to the side. The Crimson Belle lost her sleek lines, but the boats would be necessary for them to get everyone ashore.

  Next they fashioned club-like torches for weapons. Using brooms, mops, oars, or any other piece of wood they could get their hands on, they wrapped one end in heavy canvas and soaked it in kerosene, creating what looked to Tom like dozens of enormous matches. Last of all, they primed and loaded their cannons.

  As they worked, Zaputo’s bird perched itself on the deck rail, its beady eyes watching the proceedings with an intensity that was unnerving for a creature that wasn’t human.

  “Is it just me, or is that bird kind of creepy?” Tom said to Porter, pausing between the tasks of finishing the torches and loading them on the boats.

  Porter wiped the sweat from his brow and shrugged. “It’s a bird.”

  “I know that. But there’s something about it.” Something he hadn’t liked the moment he set eyes on the thing. Not only had his dislike been instant, but it had been tinged with recognition. There was a reason he didn’t like it. He’d seen it somewhere before. “I mean, doesn’t it look familiar to you?”

  “No.”

  Tom sighed. There was something about that bird…

  As if reading his thoughts, the bird turned its beady eyes on Tom. With a single beat of its wings, it soared straight toward him. Tom gave a yelp and hit the deck. The bird’s razor-sharp beak missed his eye by mere inches.

  Porter smirked and looked at him. “If I were you, I’d forget about the bird, and get back to work.”

  Tom rose shakily, looking for the bird. It was perched far above the deck, on the crow’s nest. Forcing himself to ignore it, he returned his attention to his work. It was almost time to go.

  Zaputo strode to the quarterdeck and surveyed the sea of faces below him. “If any man or woman wishes to leave this vessel, do so now.”

  No one moved.

  Zaputo gave a satisfied nod. “No ship has ever lasted the night in the Cursed Souls Sea,” he said. “We will return before the sun sets.”

  Or not at all, Tom thought.

  Umbrey nodded. Satisfied he’d done as much as he could to help, he turned to go.

  Tom stared at him in shocked disbelief. “You’re not coming with us?”

  “Me? No, lad. Not this trip. A ship only has room for one captain at a time.”

  He crossed the plank to the Purgatory and threw off the lines that bound the ships together. Using his good foot, he kicked the plank into the water. A swarm of greedy undertoads, apparently mistaking it for food, issued high-pitched squeals of delight. They grabbed the plank with their skinny suction cup fingers and dragged it underwater.

  “Safe voyage!” Umbrey called as he began to drift away. “Keep your wits about you and bring back that blasted book!”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CORAL CANYON

  “Eat now. The water will be too rough to balance a plate once we enter the Cursed Souls Sea.”

  Tom turned in surprise to see Porter standing behind him, offering a plate of food. He took it with a word of thanks and lifted the fork. It wasn’t as good as the food Umbrey served—this meal consisted of some kind of fish stew and spicy rice—but it was plentiful and filling and Tom was glad to have it. He scraped the plate clean, then washed it down with a tankard of cool cider.

  To his surprise, Porter hadn’t walked away after delivering the food. Instead, his brother sat down beside him as he ate and stared across the horizon. Although Porter’s posture was relaxed, Tom knew him well enough to recognize the subtle tension that ran through him. Sensing he had something on his mind, he waited for Porter to break the silence that hung between them.

  “You get any sleep?” Porter finally asked.

  Tom shrugged. “Yeah, some.” After last night, he’d badly needed it. He’d allowed himself to drift off shortly after the Crimson Belle had gotten under way. As it was now midday, he guessed he’d slept for four hours or so. He glanced at his brother, noting the dark smudges beneath his eyes. “You?”

  “A little.” Porter heaved a sigh and dragged his fingers through his pale blond hair. “Why’d you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Tell Zaputo that the attack on his men was all your idea. Put your neck on the line like that. I wouldn’t have done it for you.”

  “Thanks, guy.”

  Porter laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant …” His voice drifted away for a moment. Then he gathered himself and said, “I don’t know. Maybe I did. I mean, it worked, but what were you thinking?”

  “Thinking?” Tom repeated. “I wasn’t thinking at all. I just … did it. It just seems like every minute that passes where we aren’t dead is a good thing.”

  Porter gave him a long, hard look. “So that’s it? That’s your strategy? Just do whatever it takes to stay alive one more minute?”

  “Yeah. Pretty much.”

  “And that works for you?”

  “Look, we made it, didn’t we? We’re still here. So I guess everything worked out okay.”

  “Maybe for now.” Porter shifted, stretching his legs out in front of him. Tom could almost feel the agitation coursing through him. “But what happens when it doesn’t work out?”

  “What do you mean? You think things might go wrong?”

  Porter regarded him as though he were an idiot. “When has anything we’ve ever done not gone wrong?”

  Excellent point.

  “Okay. So you’re worried about what’ll happen when we get to Arx.”

  “Right. But not just that. This is my home. It’s all I have.” Porter shook his head, obviously working himself up to what he really wanted to say. His gaze locked on Tom. “You don’t care, because you don’t have to. You come here, pull all these ridiculous stunts and act like some kind of hero. If things don’t work out, you can just shrug it off and leave. I don’t have that option.”

  Tom looked at his brother. For a second, he thought he was joking. Then he realized Porter was completely serious. Tom suddenly understood why the only time he felt connected to him was when they were bringing maps to life. The rest of the time he just didn’t understand him. Didn’t want to understand him.

  “So that’s your way of saying thanks, huh?”

  “Thanks?” A muscle twitched in Porter’s jaw. “You’ve been lucky, I’ll give you that. But you’ve got to stop pushing it. One of these times your luck’s going to run out. You’re going to try to play hero and end up killing somebody. I don’t want to be around when that happens.”

  Tom let out a low breath, battling an urge to shove his fist in his brother’s face. “You want to keep score, fine. Let’s go back to your carefully thought-out plan to take on Zaputo’s crew. Real smart thinking. How’d that work out for you?”

  Porter’s pale eyes darkened. He opened his mouth, then seemed to change his mind. “What
I’m trying to say,” he began, his voice low and controlled, “is that we need a plan. If we try to just figure things out when we get to Arx we won’t make it out alive.”

  Tom removed the map of the Cursed Souls Sea from his inner coat pocket and spread it open. He pointed to the island of Arx. “Look. The Crimson Belle lands in the southern harbor and we all row ashore, battle the scavengers, and somehow manage to live long enough to actually make it across the island and into the fortress, where we grab the Black Book of Pernicus.”

  “Right.”

  “Then what?”

  Tom blinked. As he looked at the map, Porter’s meaning suddenly became clear. They hadn’t come up with an escape strategy yet.

  Their plan to get ashore was a blunt one. The assembled group of captives and crewmen would divert the scavengers with a noisy battle on the southern end of the island, allowing Tom, Porter, Willa, and Mudge time to sneak past the scavengers and race to the northern fortress. A clear path and a running start—that was the best they could hope for.

  But no one thought the battle could go on indefinitely. There were just too many scavengers. At some point, the captives and crew would have to retreat back to the relative safety of the Crimson Belle.

  Which meant that once Tom and his friends made it past the beach, they were on their own.

  So how were they supposed to get back to the ship? They couldn’t return the way they came—not by themselves, when the landing beach would be swarming with scavengers. Obviously their best bet would be to grab the book and leave directly from the fortress. But how? Even if the Crimson Belle came around to wait for them off the northern end of the island, how were they supposed to get back to the ship from a towering fortress perched on a cliff? Jump and swim for it? The fall alone would probably kill them.

  “I see what you mean,” Tom said. “I guess I haven’t figured it out quite yet.”

  “Well, you let me know when you do. If we could fly, we might stand a chance. But since that’s not going to happen, we need a plan.”

  As if listening to their conversation, Zaputo’s bird left its perch on the crow’s nest and soared past their heads, gliding over the sea in tighter and tighter circles until it dove into the water and snatched an enormous fish in its talons. It dropped the flopping fish on the deck with an ugly splat! then proceeded to make a meal of it, tearing the fish apart with its beak.

  “We’ve got to bring ropes,” Porter continued. “Once we grab the book, we’ll scale down the tower to the rocks at the base of the cliff. From there, Zaputo can send his crewmen with a boat to pick us up. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. That’s our only way back to the Crimson Belle.”

  Tom mulled over Porter’s plan. In theory, it might work. Except for one thing. He glanced at the map. Unlike the relatively calm southern shore, the waves at the northern tip of the island violently crashed against the fortress cliff.

  “The sea is pretty rough there, isn’t it?” he said.

  “I’d rather take my chances against the sea than a beach full of scavengers.”

  “Right.” Tom nodded. He thought for a long moment, but couldn’t come up with a better solution. “If only we could fly,” he said absently, his gaze landing on the fiery bird. Moving with vicious efficiency, it had torn off the fish’s flesh, spread its guts across the deck and pecked apart its bones.

  “Yeah. But I don’t think even you can pull that off.”

  As Tom watched the bird devouring its meal, Zaputo stuck two fingers in his mouth and emitted an ear-splitting whistle. The bird gave a sharp caw and tore off the fish’s head. Grasping it in its talons, it flew to the captain. Zaputo gave the bird an approving pat, then sucked on the slimy fish head, smacking his lips in satisfaction.

  Tom’s stomach turned. Disgusting.

  Willa and Mudge approached. “Look,” Willa said, indicating a shimmering spot in the distance. “The Coral Canyon. We’re almost there.”

  Already? Tom thought, battling a sudden bout of nerves. Keegan had allotted them only three days to retrieve the Black Book of Pernicus and return it to him. Tom knew they had to move fast. He wanted to move fast. But that didn’t make the prospect of landing on a scavenger-infested island any less terrifying— particularly if they didn’t have a firm plan in place to get off that same island.

  He rose and moved to the ship’s rail. Porter tucked the map away and joined him. Together the four watched in fascinated silence as the Crimson Belle sailed toward the canyon. From a distance, it looked like nothing more than a glowing pink blur on the horizon. But as they drew closer, Tom was able to make out a series of jagged peaks jutting up out of the sea.

  He had assumed the Crimson Belle would merely have to make its way through a single, hourglass-shaped gap in the canyon. Difficult, but not necessarily deadly. What he saw before him, however, made his throat draw tight with fear.

  The passage to the Cursed Souls Sea was far more treacherous than anything he could have imagined. The canyon wasn’t actually a canyon at all. It was an obstacle course, filled with razor-sharp columns of glittery pink coral that shot up at random intervals, thrusting out of the sea like a series of spiky stalagmites. The ship would have to slalom its way through them to get to the other side, fighting against wind and currents which threatened to drive them into the coral and shred the hull.

  If they’d been in a car, Tom would have wanted to slam on the brakes and turn around. But obviously that wasn’t an option.

  Ignoring the fluttering drum roll in his belly, his gaze returned to Salvador Zaputo. The captain had moved to the foredeck beside the ship’s pilot. He lowered the spyglass he held, seemed to think for a moment, then calmly conveyed an order to his crew.

  If he was at all intimidated by the task of safely navigating his ship through the perilous canyon, his face didn’t show it. He looked cool and collected, completely in command.

  Tom swallowed hard and tried to draw some comfort from that. He noted Willa’s white-knuckled grip on the ship’s rail. “We’ll make it,” he said to her. “If Zaputo’s not worried, we shouldn’t be.”

  Willa let out a shallow breath. “Right,” she said, forcing a shaky smile. But Tom noticed her grip didn’t lessen any.

  Zaputo’s men furled the mainsails, leaving nothing but the topsails fluttering. They paused for a moment just outside the entrance to the Coral Canyon. The ship stalled, as though caught between shifting currents. Or perhaps giving them time to reconsider their decision to enter the canyon. Up close, the coral glittered like thousands of shards of broken glass, just waiting to rip them to pieces.

  Despite the reassurances he’d offered Willa, Tom found he couldn’t calm his own nerves. His stomach performed a series of somersaults and his heart fluttered in his chest. The Crimson Belle shuddered and groaned as though issuing a final protest, or maybe a warning of imminent danger ahead, just the way the Purgatory had before it plunged over the edge of the earth.

  All around him, Tom could feel the passengers and crew of the Crimson Belle catching their breath and holding it. Waiting. Porter clutched the map in his fist and shifted anxiously. Mudge locked his palm around the hilt of the Sword of Five Kingdoms, which remained tucked at his side. The boy chewed his lower lip. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but his words died in his throat. No one dared break the tense silence that surrounded them.

  The moment stretched out. Then, like a roller coaster reaching the crest of a hill, the ship’s bow drifted into place and the ship launched.

  They shot forward, propelled by winds and currents and gravitational forces Tom couldn’t begin to define. Had Zaputo not been the captain he was, or his crew so highly trained, the Crimson Belle would have splintered into pieces many times over. Instead they repeatedly came within a hair’s breadth of collision with the jagged coral peaks, only to veer away from utter disaster with just seconds to spare.

  Then, just when Tom was certain their luck would finally run out, they passed their last obstacle. The
y’d made it through. But any elation he might have felt at still being alive withered and died as he looked at what awaited them.

  The Cursed Souls Sea.

  The sky was bile green, thick with whirling gray clouds that twisted around and around like the eye of a tornado. Water spouts and towering waves sprang up from a churning sea that frothed and foamed in violent shades of purple and black. Within the waves Tom caught glimpses of scaly, gargantuan creatures that looked like squid—only unlike the squid he was used to seeing, these were armed with enormous fangs. Other sea monsters lurked just below the waterline, but Tom couldn’t see those as clearly. He could only make out a sinister, slithering impression of the slippery beasts.

  That alone was terrifying. But worst of all was the wind. It seemed to come at them from all sides, howling and screeching as it whipped across the deck. It wasn’t a normal wind at all. This sounded like demonic laughter, as though Pernicus himself was marking their approach and shrieking with delight.

  As though he’d been eagerly expecting them.

  As though the ship, and all those aboard it, was heading right into his trap. They sailed headlong into the Cursed Souls Sea.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ARX

  The Crimson Belle pitched and rolled, carried by swiftly moving currents that were beyond even Zaputo’s control. A few pockets of the sea were as dark and slick as blackened sheets of ice. Other stretches churned with violently twisting whirlpools that sucked everything that came near them into their deadly wake. They scooted past those dangers, only to be drawn up into towering waves that shot them skyward, then sent them plummeting down the opposite side.