Salamaine's Curse

by V. L. Burgess

  “You came,” Mudge said. “I wasn’t sure …”

  “Of course I’m here. Umbrey said you needed me.”

  Mudge nodded and chewed his lower lip. Unable to meet Tom’s eyes, he looked away. Though just ten years old, the boy looked weighed down with worry.

  Tom’s gaze moved to Willa. She dressed in simple wool clothing and styled her long, pale-brown hair in a heavy braid. Tom had remembered that she was pretty. He just hadn’t remembered how pretty. Or how unassuming she was about it. She was one of those girls who didn’t try to be attractive—a fact that made her even more attractive. But as he looked closer, he noticed the shadows under her hazel eyes, suggesting she hadn’t slept in days.

  He frowned. It didn’t make sense. Something wasn’t right. They had defeated Keegan. They’d recovered Salamaine’s sword, brought Keegan’s reign to an end, and installed Mudge as rightful heir and ruler of the Five Kingdoms. The battle was over. Or at least he’d thought it was.

  Then he considered what he’d seen since he’d left the Purgatory. The darkened streets. The silence and fear.

  “What’s out there? What’s everyone so afraid of?”

  “They haven’t told you yet?” Willa said, her face pained. “You don’t know about Salamaine’s Curse? About the scavengers?”

  Tom shook his head. “Tell me.”

  Porter dragged a hand through his hair. “It’ll take too long to explain—”

  “Then skip the explanations. Just give me the facts.”

  Tom could almost feel his brother’s impatience. But instead of arguing the point, Porter gave a curt nod and collected his thoughts. “When Salamaine was king, he made a mistake. A bad mistake. As a result, hundreds of innocents lost their lives.” He stopped, shook his head, and corrected himself. “Or rather, almost lost their lives. For they didn’t die, not completely. They came back from the dead to hunt Salamaine, seeking revenge for their deaths.”

  They came back from the dead? Tom’s mind shot to the creature he’d seen on the dark map in the boathouse. “Scavengers,” he said, as though testing the word aloud. “I saw one. It came to life on the map of the Cursed Souls Sea.”

  Porter nodded again. “For centuries the scavengers were trapped in that sea. But not anymore. We fought off the first wave, but more are on their way here—hordes of them.”

  “It’s my fault,” Mudge said. He ran his fingers lightly along the hilt of the Sword of Five Kingdoms, which he wore tucked into his belt. “When I woke Salamaine’s blade, I woke the scavengers. They want to avenge their deaths. That’s why they come.”

  “Until we stop them,” Umbrey interjected, placing a reassuring hand on Mudge’s shoulder.

  “How do we do that?” Tom asked.

  “The Black Book of Pernicus.” Umbrey withdrew the map from the inner pocket of his coat rapping the scroll of parchment against his palm. “It’s the only way.”

  Tom’s confusion must have been obvious, for Willa added, “Pernicus created the scavengers. It’s said the answer to destroying the creatures lies within the pages of his book.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Tom said. “If we have the map, let’s go.”

  Willa shifted uncomfortably, her gaze sliding from Umbrey to Porter.

  Porter cleared his throat. “Technically,” he said, “the map doesn’t belong to us. It will only reveal the book if the map’s owner wants us to find it.”

  Tom frowned. “Who owns it?”

  Another heavy pause, this one broken by Umbrey. “He’s waiting below,” he replied gruffly. He gave the map another sharp rap. “All right, then. Enough talk. Let’s get this done.”

  He ushered them toward a set of stone steps that led to a lower level. A basement dungeon of some sort. The rock walls felt dank and damp, wet to the touch. There were no windows. The only light in the room was provided by flickering torches, encased in wrought iron sconces on the walls.

  The room had been designed to hold prisoners before trial, Tom guessed. Rather than partitioning the space into a series of small cells, the jail encompassed the entire basement. It was one huge, open cell. Stone walls on three sides, stone floors, iron bars across the front. It could easily house dozens of men. Likely, it normally did. But at the moment, it held only one prisoner.

  Keegan.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A CURSED SWORD

  The door to Keegan’s cell was open. Tom hesitated on the threshold, feeling as if he were about to enter the lair of some lethal, predatory animal. Though Keegan did nothing to acknowledge them, Tom was certain he was alert to their every move. He hung back for a moment, cautiously taking the man in.

  Keegan wore dark wool pants, a brocade vest, plum shirt, and expensive black boots. A fur cape was dramatically draped over his shoulders, and his hair and goatee were immaculately groomed. If not for the overwhelming threat of menace he exuded, some might have considered him darkly handsome. At the very least, he looked like a rich, powerful nobleman.

  Tom tore his gaze away from Keegan to sweep the rest of the room. It was unlike any jail cell he’d ever seen. Gilt mirrors, thick animal skin rugs, finely crafted table and chairs, shelves of books, and an enormous four poster bed with a rich silk coverlet. The opulence was unnerving. The only indication he could find that Keegan was a prisoner, rather than an illustrious guest, was the iron chain that looped from his ankle to a peg in the wall.

  Despite the lateness of the hour, Keegan sat at a candlelit table laden with fine china and crystal goblets. A bloody slab of meat filled his plate. He slowly sliced and chewed his food, dabbing his mouth with a napkin, sipping his wine. He seemed perfectly indifferent to their presence, a rich aristocrat not to be bothered with the petty comings and goings of his jailors.

  “Careful you don’t choke on that,” Umbrey said. “What an unseemly end to your reign. The mighty Keegan died in jail choking on a bone.”

  Keegan looked up. His lips curled into in a small smile. “Ah. My good friend, Umbrey. So nice of you to visit.” He set his knife and fork aside and pushed back his plate. “I always did appreciate your humor. I must remember to make certain you’re smiling when I post your head on a pike outside the gates of my new palace.”

  “An impressive threat for a man with a chain around his leg.”

  Keegan gave a royal shrug. The chain rattled across the stone floor as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Do forgive the noise. My latest accessory. Meant to keep me humble, I suppose. Wallow in my disgrace and all that.” He made a bored motion with his hand, then idly drew one long, yellow, talon-like nail along the rim of his goblet. “I see you’ve brought your little friends with you. What a rare treat.”

  Porter stepped forward. “You know why we’re here.”

  Keegan leveled Porter with a long, silent gaze. “You know why we’re here, sire,” he corrected.

  Porter didn’t speak, but only continued to glare at him.

  Keegan released a forlorn sigh. “Youth today. No respect.” He shook his head, then continued, “Of course I know why you came. Even in here I can feel it bubbling and brewing outside— such glorious tension and anxiety, such utter terror.” His dark eyes shimmered. “Scavengers. They’re on their way.”

  “Unless we stop them,” Porter said.

  “With my map,” Keegan countered. His lips twisted in a smile of dark satisfaction. “My people need me.”

  “Your people despise you,” retorted Willa.

  “Are you so certain of that?”

  Willa brought up her chin. “Yes.”

  Keegan shook his head. “How painfully naïve. Permit me to enlighten you as to the way the world works. The good people of Divino may cringe in their homes as my army marches triumphantly through the streets, but they allow it. Why? Because everyone has food on the table and the wagons run on time. They need me.”

  A map of the Five Kingdoms filled one entire wall of his cell. Keegan rose and moved to stand beside it, his chain dragging behind h
im. Divino was at the heart of the map. The remaining four lands were equidistant from the center, spread out like the jagged claws of a crab: Aquat, an island chain bordering the Cursed Souls Sea; Incendia, a land ringed by fiery volcanoes; Terrum, a dense, jungle-like expanse of thick forests; and finally, Ventus, an icy mountain range beset by frosty winds.

  “What did you think would happen?” Keegan asked. “You’d put a child on the throne, ask everyone to play nice, and all the problems in the Five Kingdoms would magically disappear? I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.” He drew his hand across the map. “Five kingdoms. Each with its own self-interest. I maintained order. There is a delicate balance to it all, of which you know nothing.”

  “Then I will learn,” Mudge replied, his voice small but defiant.

  “Will you? Tell me then, what makes a good ruler?”

  “Courage, honor, integrity, loyalty.”

  Keegan gave a harsh laugh. He brought his fingers against his thumb in what was apparently the international symbol for yak-yak-yak.

  “No. That is precisely wrong. There are only two kinds of people in the world. Those who inflict pain, and those who suffer it. Allow me to demonstrate.”

  He returned to his seat at the table and leaned back, assuming a posture of cool elegance. It was just an ordinary chair, but something about Keegan’s pose made it seem regal, as though he was sitting on a throne. He turned his focus to the outer guard. A dark, simmering heat burned in his eyes. The guard stiffened, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

  “Why is my glass empty?” Keegan said.

  The guard sprang to action. He rushed to refill Keegan’s glass, apologizing profusely for the delay. He bowed and retreated up the stone staircase and out of the room.

  Satisfied, Keegan took a sip of wine. He turned to Tom and his friends. “Fear. Fear is how one controls.”

  Tom shook his head. “Temporarily, maybe. But not for long.”

  “Is that so?” Returning his attention to the table, he reached for a plate of tiny, decadent cakes, drenched in what looked like chocolate glaze, and popped one into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, then took his time licking the rich glaze from his fingers.

  “Why do you think the citizens of Divino allow me to live in such luxury?” he asked, gesturing around his cell. “Because they dare not displease me, that’s why. I am temporarily inconvenienced, not vanquished. They know it.”

  “Your own men have deserted you,” Porter answered flatly. “The Watch has fled.”

  “No. They have not fled. They simply await my command.” He leaned back in his chair, staring in satisfaction at Tom and Porter. “Just as the mapmaker’s sons have come to serve me.”

  Tom looked at Umbrey, then shifted his gaze to Porter, Willa, and Mudge. They all looked pale, tense. Defenseless against Keegan. This wasn’t right. They had defeated him.

  But they still needed him. The bitterness of it lodged in his throat.

  A cruel smile played about Keegan’s lips. “Ironic, isn’t it? You thought the battle was over when you gained that pretty sword, yet it’s only just begun.” Thoroughly enjoying himself, he leaned forward, saying in a dramatic whisper, “A cursed sword. Such a shame. If only you’d known.”

  “The blade still had the power to destroy you,” Porter shot back.

  “Destroy me?” Keegan’s dark brows shot upward. “My dear boy, do I look destroyed? All you’ve done is waste my time. An offense you’ll pay dearly for, I can assure you, but not until I’ve availed myself of you and your brother’s unique gift.”

  “What do you want, Keegan?” Umbrey said with a growl.

  Keegan shook his head, making a tsking sound with his tongue. “So righteous, all of you. Salamaine’s curse created the scavengers, yet here you are, coming to me to save you from them.” He rose and looked at Umbrey. “You brought the map?”

  Umbrey removed the rolled scroll from his coat.

  With a careless swipe of his arm, Keegan cleared the table, sending the china and crystal crashing to the floor. He grabbed the map of the Cursed Souls Sea and spread it across the newly vacant surface.

  “Read it,” Keegan commanded. “Show me the Black Book of Pernicus.”

  Not about to take orders from Keegan, Tom looked at Umbrey. He gave a curt nod. “Do it, lads.”

  Porter stationed himself at one end of the table. Tom wordlessly followed suit, taking the opposite end. Their eyes met, and together they placed their fingers on the edges of the map.

  Thick clouds of silver mist rose from the map. The sea began to froth and foam. Waves rose and crashed. Beneath the surface of the ocean, shadowy creatures slithered and writhed. Tom’s stomach clenched. He broke out in a fine sweat. Rather than the euphoria he normally felt when touching a map, he felt nauseous, dizzy. Seasick. As though the floor beneath him pitched and rolled.

  As he watched, a stark outcropping of rocks rose from the depths of the Cursed Souls Sea. The rocks shifted, growing larger and broader until they became a barren island. The scattered remains of an ancient city spread across the island. Dominating the northern end was a towering fortress surrounded by barrel-chested guards, all of whom brandished glistening scimitar swords.

  “Arx,” Keegan breathed. “It does exist.”

  Within the fortress was a single black book, floating in mid-air. From the corner of his eye, Tom saw Keegan remove a gold key from his pocket and place it on the map. The pages of the book fluttered open.

  Next, Mudge lifted the Sword of Five Kingdoms and touched it to the map. A brilliant light shot from the book. Mudge cocked his head and moved closer to the map, studying it intently. His focus locked, he looked from the book, to Keegan’s key, to his sword, as though puzzling something out. Then the boy’s face changed. Before Tom could ask him what he saw, a high-pitched scream filled the room. Tom jerked back his hands and the spell was broken. The images of the island, the fortress, and the book all vanished. The map returned to its dry, flat state. But the terrified screams continued.

  He glanced at Porter. His brother had gone even paler than usual. So had Willa.

  Another scream echoed through the room. It took Tom a moment to realize the sounds weren’t coming from the map at all—or from anywhere in the basement cell. The panicked screams came from somewhere beyond the courthouse.

  Then he heard something else. Umbrey had told him he would know it when he heard it. He’d been right, for this was a sound he knew he would remember for the rest of his life. A low, steady, desperate moan. The sound of hunger and pain and rage all coiled into one. An animal-like howl with a human edge.

  Above their heads, the door to the courthouse crashed open—or possibly was knocked off its frame—impossible to tell which from where he stood. Tom’s gaze shot to the ceiling. The slow, heavy shuffle of feet echoed overhead. It sounded as though someone—or maybe a group of people—had entered the courtroom above them. But the sounds they made weren’t normal. He heard grunts and groans, followed by staggering, stumbling footsteps. As though whoever was up there was dragging something very heavy behind them.

  Willa’s eyes widened in horror. She grabbed Mudge and pulled him protectively toward her.

  “We were supposed to have time,” Porter said, panicked. “I heard the reports. They were last seen crossing Mumdai. They’re not supposed to be here yet.”

  “Release me!” Keegan cried, pulling at the chain that secured his ankle. “I won’t die like this! Not ripped apart by scavengers.”

  “Shut up!” barked Umbrey.

  “Release me now or you’ll all die—all of you! You saw the map. You need me! You can’t open the book without my key!”

  Mudge tore away from Willa and ran to the outer cell wall. He grabbed the thick iron key that unlocked Keegan’s shackle and rushed back to the cell.

  Porter blocked his way. “No. You can’t let him go. Think of everything he’s done.”

  In that instant, Mudge looked far older than his years. He met Porter’s eyes.
“I know what he’s done. But he’s right. The book would be useless without him.” He turned to Keegan. “If I release you, you will accompany us as our prisoner.”

  “Fine. The key. Now.”

  “Swear it.”

  “Yes, yes, I swear. Now give me that key!”

  Mudge tossed it to him.

  Keegan caught it and freed himself. He shook off his chain, then reached for a torch and held it aloft. His eyes met Tom’s. “Marrick’s chosen,” he said, his lips curled back in a sneer. “This horror was not created by me, but by your good and brave King Salamaine. Look. Look what he has wrought.”

  Tom looked.

  The creature from the map, but much, much worse. Now there were more of them. Too many to count. Filthy, battered, and bruised, their clothing hung in tatters from their skeletal frames as they stumbled down the rough stone steps, pushing and shoving past each other to gain entrance to the basement cell. They moved with their claw-like hands stretched out in front of them, their feet lurching unevenly, monotone grunts and growls issuing from their throats.

  Odd clumps of hair sprung from their scalps. Their skin was gray and peeling, their lips rotted off to reveal blackened gums and tangled teeth. The putrid stench of rotting flesh hovered in the air around them.

  The word zombie flew into Tom’s brain and lodged there. But rather than provide him with the shot of adrenaline he desperately needed to jolt himself into action, the realization of what he was facing froze him in place. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. His feet felt cemented to the cold stone floor. Run! Get away, now!

  He cast a panicked glance around the room. The rush of adrenaline he’d hoped for finally came, but it was too late. The stairs, their only exit, were blocked by the creatures. There was no where to run, no other way out. They were trapped inside.