Umbrey gave a decisive nod. “Looks like we’re late to the party. Come. Follow me.”
Tom trailed behind as Umbrey—moving at remarkable speed for a one-legged man—shot down the circular staircase. Umbrey threw open the door at the base of the tower to reveal a world pitched into chaos. The battle raged all around them. The din of blade striking blade, combined with shrieks of rage and groans of pain, was deafening. Blood seeped into the cobblestone ground. Bodies of the dead and wounded had already begun to litter the courtyard. The brutality of the fight, the roar of the combat, was worse than Tom could ever have imagined.
He staggered to a stop, temporarily thrown off-balance by the nightmarish quality of the scene. Porter, Willa, Mudge. Where were they? He gazed around wildly, searching for a glimpse of them.
Umbrey gave him a shove to get him moving.
“This way, lad!” he shouted above the roar of the battle.
“No! I’m meeting them back at the boat!”
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. The Watch grabbed them as soon as they moved through the gates. Your friends tried to fight back, but it was useless. Porter’s hurt—it’s bad, lad. And now Keegan has them.”
Umbrey’s words shot through the panicked jumble of Tom’s thoughts. Porter was hurt. Badly hurt. Their plan—that during the chaos of battle, Porter, Willa, and Mudge would go after the stones—hadn’t worked. They had grossly miscalculated the deadly determination of The Watch.
“Where are they?” Tom asked.
“Keegan’s private quarters. I’ll show you the way.”
Tom grabbed Umbrey’s arm as he turned away. “Wait, I can’t. Not with the sword.” He glanced around, his thoughts spinning as the battle continued to rage around them. “Let me leave it at the boat, then we’ll go—”
“Leave the sword? Are you daft?” Umbrey’s face darkened. “Didn’t you understand me? Keegan has your brother.”
“I know! But we can’t risk losing—”
“What, the sword? You’d choose that over your own brother?”
“No! That’s not what I’m saying!”
“Then listen, lad. The only thing we have to bargain with is that sword. Keegan doesn’t care if Porter lives or dies, but he wants that sword. If we go to Keegan without it, Porter’s a dead man.”
Tom shook his head. He clenched his fingers around the sheathed sword. “There must be another way.”
“Not if you want to see Porter and your friends alive. Trust me, lad. I know a thing or two about dead. That’s a ship that only sails in one direction.”
The very words Umbrey had said to him in the bell tower the night they met. They’d come full circle.
From the corner of his eye, Tom caught a flash of black and the glint of a blade. The Watch. Reacting instinctively, he wheeled around and swung the blade he held—still encased in its animal-skin sheath—to block the man’s knife. The guard, caught by surprise, staggered backward. Not missing a beat, Umbrey drove his knee into the man’s groin. The guard uttered a low moan, then collapsed to his knees.
Umbrey let out a sigh of satisfaction, then turned and studied Tom appraisingly. “So what do you say, lad? Are we going to use that sword to save your brother’s life, or aren’t we?”
Tom gave a curt nod. “What do we do?”
Umbrey’s lips curved in a small smile. “Follow my lead. It will all work out. You’ll see.”
Tom sped after Umbrey as the one-legged man tore through the chaos surrounding them. In the market square, townspeople had taken up arms against Keegan’s guard. Battles raged on every corner, panicked livestock raced through the streets, and carts were overturned and set ablaze. It was a scene of utter devastation—until they reached their destination.
Eerie stillness hung over Keegan’s private quarters. On either side of the walk leading to the main door, torches flickered. After the wild pandemonium engulfing the rest of the city, the regal calm of Keegan’s personal domain was profoundly disturbing. But the quiet conveyed something else. A message so clear there was no way for Tom to miss it.
He was expected.
Tom pulled to a stop, gulping air and attempting to steady his rocketing pulse. But his pulse refused to be stilled. The knowledge that Keegan was holding Porter, Willa, and Mudge inside sent a chill down his spine.
Tom moved toward the door, but Umbrey’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Wait.”
Umbrey’s gaze found his, his expression hard and tight. “Before we go in, lad, there’s something you should know—”
Whatever he might have said was lost as Willa’s scream tore through the night air.
Tom jerked away from Umbrey’s grasp, threw open the door, and raced inside.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KEEGAN
“Welcome home, Tom.”
Keegan sat in a lone chair in the center of a vast hall. Flanking him on his right and left were a dozen members of The Watch. They stood at attention, their tall black boots highly polished. Their black cloaks were tossed loosely over their shoulders, secured with Keegan’s all-seeing red eye. They wore their hoods up, obscuring their faces, which served to give them an even more sinister appearance.
Three additional members of The Watch stood to the left of Keegan’s chair. Each of them gripped the arm of a hostage. Porter, Willa, and Mudge.
Tom studied his friends. Their hair and clothing were tousled, but Tom saw no evidence of blood or bruises. Umbrey had said that Porter had been badly injured, yet Tom could see no sign of that. To his relief, just the opposite was true. Porter stood with his boots planted firmly on the ground, an expression of raw fury on his face. They were held against their will, but none of them appeared seriously hurt. At least not yet.
Tom cast a questioning glance at Umbrey, but Umbrey looked straight ahead, his focus locked on Keegan and his guards.
For a moment, no one moved. Then Keegan rose regally to his feet. He strode toward Tom, his eyes burning with a dark, unnatural intensity.
“The lost twin. So nice to finally meet.” He gave a thoughtful nod. “It is Tom, is it not? Remarkable. I have been waiting thirteen years, three hundred and sixty-four days, twenty-three hours, and assorted dismal minutes for this moment to arrive. And here we are.”
Umbrey stepped forward, his peg leg sounding a steady beat against the polished marble floor. He bowed to Keegan, sending him an obsequious smile. “All good things to those who wait.”
Keegan’s gaze flicked to Umbrey. “Indeed. The mapmaker’s sons delivered to me intact. You’ve earned your gold.” He removed a small pouch and tossed it to Umbrey. “I believe we may now consider the balance paid in full.”
Tom sucked in his breath. Umbrey. The pieces fell into place. Battle, blood, and betrayal. He’d almost figured it out, but he’d been too slow. Fueled by rage, with Porter’s curses ringing in his ears, he lunged for Umbrey. Two members of The Watch caught him easily and pulled him off.
“So much useless bravado. Tedious, really.” Keegan made a tsking noise with his tongue. “But in my excitement, I’ve gotten ahead of myself. There was a point to all this, wasn’t there?” He cocked his head to one side, as though lost in thought. Then he brightened. “Ah, yes! Now I remember. The sword.”
The blade, tucked in its sheath and obscured by his sweatshirt hood, hung heavily against his back. “We didn’t find it,” Tom bit out.
Keegan turned sharply. “What was that?”
“We didn’t find it.”
Keegan frowned, then looked at the guards who held Tom’s arms. At his silent signal, they lifted Tom bodily and slammed him against the wall.
“We didn’t find it, Sire,” Keegan corrected. “If you’re going to lie to me, please have the courtesy to do it respectfully.”
Tom stared into his feverish eyes. Lunatic. Sociopath.
Keegan glared at him, then jerked his head toward Porter, Willa, and Mudge. The guards dragged them forward. Carefully watching Tom’s reaction, Keegan drew one long,
talon-like nail across the chest of each of his friends.
“I think we’ll begin,” Keegan drawled, “with him.”
The guard dragged Porter closer and shoved him onto his knees.
Keegan removed a highly polished dagger from the pocket of his coat and pressed it to Porter’s throat. “You may be interested in a swap,” he said to Tom. “Your brother’s life for the sword. A bad trade, in my opinion, as the boy appears utterly worthless. But he may hold some sentimental value to you.”
“Don’t do it!” Porter grit out.
The blade moved, lightly nicking Porter’s throat. A trickle of blood dripped to his collar.
“No!” Willa and Mudge screamed. Whether they were urging Tom not to hand over the sword or urging Keegan not to cut Porter, or both, was impossible to tell.
Tom clenched his teeth, his blood roaring in his ears.
Keegan arched one dark brow. He gave a sharp bark of laughter. “You hesitate! A gross miscalculation on my part. It must burn, doesn’t it? The knowledge that your parents chose him,” he drawled, “over you. I suppose you’ve wanted him dead for years. I know I would have.”
Tom glared at him in mute, powerless rage.
“Give me the sword and you all walk free. Or you can choose to watch your friends die, one by one.”
“Do as he says, lad,” Umbrey urged.
Keegan’s eyes moved to Umbrey, then back to Tom. He gave a light sigh. “Such good advice, yet you persist in ignoring it. Ah, well. Your choice.” He tightened his grip on the blade and made to drive it into Porter’s neck.
“No!” The single word tore from Tom’s throat. “Take it! Take the sword!”
Keegan studied him for a long moment in silence. “Take the sword, Sire.” He lowered his dagger. “How very sensible of you to see it my way.”
Tom jerked out of the guards’ grasp. Ignoring Porter’s screams for him not to release the sword, he pulled off the sheath that hung across his back. Quickly, before he could consider the weight of his actions, he removed the blade and slid it across the marble floor.
Keegan trapped the sword with his boot. He reached down and carefully lifted it. Bringing it before his face, he examined the blade. “The Sword of Five Kingdoms,” he breathed. “I hold it at last. How very satisfying.” He turned to leave and nodded to his guards, adding as almost an afterthought, “Kill them all.”
“Wait!” Umbrey lunged forward.
Keegan gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “You served your purpose. Take your gold and leave.”
“Do you have the stones?” Umbrey pressed.
Keegan paused, his eyes narrowing. “Why?”
“Without the stones, we have no way to tell whether they’ve brought the real sword or a fake. I mean no disrespect, Sire, but if these four are dead, it’s me your men will come after once their trick has been discovered.”
As Porter’s curses rained upon Umbrey, Keegan tilted his head, considering.
His gaze flicked to his sergeant-at-arms. “Bring me the stones.”
The man took off at a run, his boot steps echoing down the long marble hall.
Keegan paced the length of the room, his nails clicking furiously as he strode back and forth. Tom reluctantly lifted his gaze to Porter. But instead of the fury he expected to find there, he saw only defeat. Grim resignation to their fate. It was, in its own way, worse.
Keegan’s man returned carrying a black velvet box. As Keegan resumed his seat, the man lifted the lid and presented the box.
Five simple black stones. Unremarkable in all aspects but one—they glowed. As Keegan placed the stones within the sword, an unearthly silvery-white glow rose from the center of each one.
The Djembe war cry, aiy-aiy-aiy-aiy, echoed into the room. Tom’s attention shot to the window, judging the distance. The battle was drawing near, but they would be too late to stop Keegan.
“Excellent. That’s all I needed to see.”
Tom’s head snapped around. Umbrey. He stood inches away from Keegan, a broad blade shoved before the tyrant’s face.
“The sword,” Umbrey continued. “Hand it over.”
Keegan, absorbed in the task of fitting the stones into the sword, was caught completely unawares. He jerked to his feet, knocking over his chair. He turned to the members of his guard, his face a mask of raw outrage. “Kill him!” he shrieked. “What are you fools waiting for? Kill him! Now!”
The Watch didn’t move.
“Kill him or I’ll kill every one of you! Your wives and your children, too! Do it!”
The Watch, their faces hidden beneath their cloaks, stood immobile.
Umbrey smiled and inched up his blade. “Let that be a lesson, Sire. If you’re going to give orders, make sure the men you’re giving them to belong to you.”
As Tom watched, astonished, the guardsmen surrounding them tipped back their hoods and let their cloaks fall to the floor.
Umbrey’s men.
The same rough, embattled crew who had dashed to Umbrey’s aid in the rat-infested warehouse.
Tom felt the grip on his arm released, and watched as Porter, Willa, and Mudge were freed as well. Umbrey grabbed the sword from Keegan’s grasp. Two of his men locked Keegan’s arms behind his back and dragged him off to the side of the room. “You’ll die for this!” Keegan shrieked. “All of you! I’ll hunt you down!”
Umbrey looked at him, disgust written clearly on his face. “Shut him up,” he said.
One of his men drove his fist into Keegan’s jaw. Keegan collapsed to his knees.
“You—you planned this?” Tom managed to choke out.
“Brilliant, wasn’t it?” Umbrey beamed.
“You didn’t think to tell us?” Porter roared.
“Sorry about that, lads. But it had to look real. That was the whole point, wasn’t it?”
From the courtyard came the sound of metal striking metal. The final battle between the Djembe and The Watch was almost upon them.
Umbrey listened for a moment, then calmly righted the chair in which Keegan had sat. He picked up the Sword of Five Kingdoms and resumed the task of placing the stones in the hilt. “You see,” he said, “while you were after the sword, it occurred to me that the biggest problem lay ahead of us: how to steal the stones from Keegan. Then it hit me. The prophecy. Blood, battle, and betrayal. Marrick was telling us how to do it. Win Keegan’s trust, and he would give us the stones. He was the one to betray. All in all, I’d say it worked beautifully.”
To Tom, Umbrey seemed just a little too pleased with himself. “Why don’t you get slammed against the wall next time?” he said, rubbing his shoulder.
“Or get your throat cut,” Porter added.
“Minor annoyances,” Umbrey replied dismissively. “No real harm done, eh?”
His words trailed away as he placed the last stone into the hilt of the sword. “Are you ready, lads and lass? Ready to see the most powerful weapon the world has ever known?”
Umbrey stood and thrust the sword in the air.
Nothing happened.
It was a magnificent sword, but that was all. No spark, no light. Nothing to indicate Marrick’s hand at play. After everything they’d been through, it was just an ordinary sword. Tom’s heart plummeted.
The sound of bodies crashing against the outer door reverberated around the room.
“Well, so that’s that.” Umbrey gave a decisive nod and tossed the blade to Tom, who caught it easily. “At least we have another weapon at hand. Sounds like The Watch isn’t giving up as quickly as we’d hoped.”
The door slammed open, and the battle between the Djembe and The Watch spilled inside. In that instant, the room seemed to explode. As the combatants lurched toward them, Keegan moved. He jerked a dagger from his boot and sliced open the thigh of the guard who’d been holding him. The man released him with a howl, freeing Keegan to lunge toward Tom.
He caught Tom from behind, knocking him to the ground. Instinct took over. Tom rolled hard and twisted right,
barely avoiding Keegan’s dagger. He brought up the sword, intending to go for Keegan’s throat. Keegan caught the blade with one hand, blood pouring from his palm, while he thrust his dagger at Tom’s cheek.
Suddenly Porter was there. With one fierce kick, he struck Keegan, knocking loose the man’s grip on the sword. The sword skidded across the floor, sliding between the legs of Umbrey’s men, The Watch, and the Djembe, who were all embroiled in battles of their own.
Tom and Porter lunged for the blade.
Keegan lunged, too.
Mudge got there first. He lifted the blade in his scrawny arms and swung it toward Keegan with all his might. The blast of pure white light emitted from the sword knocked Keegan across the room, sending him crashing against the wall.
The beams supporting the wall collapsed in a pile of rubble, and the remaining members of The Watch and Keegan tumbled into the pile of smoldering ruins. The battle abruptly ended.
Stark silence fell over them all.
The entire room stared at Mudge in disbelief, but no one looked more stunned than Mudge himself. He stared at the glowing white sword in his hand with an expression of utter amazement.
A memory flashed through Tom’s mind. He and Porter standing in the lake, calling the sword. Vivienne’s words: Marrick’s chosen is not here. He hadn’t been. Not at first. It wasn’t until Mudge had entered the lake and whispered for the sword that it had emerged from the depths of the lake.
Porter looked hard at Mudge, recalling something else. “Your oval,” he said. “The metal your father gave you.”
Mudge frowned, then fished in his pocket and handed the oval to Porter. Porter stared at it for a long moment, then gave a shout of laughter. “STH. Your father was right. That is who you are. But those aren’t your initials,” he said. “They’re Marrick’s mark. You’ve been carrying it the whole time. STH. Salamaine’s true heir.”
“Mudge?” Willa breathed, her eyes round. “Salamaine’s true heir?”
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