Salamaine's Curse

by V. L. Burgess

Zaputo stopped. Turned. Looked at Mudge. “What did you say?”

  “He didn’t mean it!” Porter shouted. “He’s confused! He doesn’t know—”

  “Silence!” roared Zaputo. He laid his fingertips on the blade and lowered it, turning the sword away from Tom’s chest. Then he stepped toward Mudge. Softly he growled, “I would like to hear this child speak. This child who would dare to insult me in front of my crew.”

  Porter shot Mudge a look of warning. A look which Mudge ignored.

  “You fill your ship with human cargo. You earn your money selling the men, women, and children of Divino. Have you no pity?”

  “Pity for the people of Divino?” Zaputo scoffed. The fiery bird riding on his shoulder let out a sharp caw! as though joining Zaputo in mocking Mudge’s words. Zaputo slowly shook his head. “Let me show you how the people of Divino treat their brothers in Aquat.”

  He lifted the thick gold chain he wore around his neck and reached for the ornate golden orb which dangled from the end. His fingers found a tiny, sensitive trigger. Like an over-sized locket, the orb sprang open to reveal a hollow interior. Nestled inside was a small, shriveled object that resembled a walnut shell. Zaputo removed it and held it between his thumb and forefinger.

  “A mana seed,” Willa breathed, unable to keep the awe from her voice.

  “It was a mana seed,” Zaputo corrected. “But no longer.” He rapped it against the ship’s rail, producing the sharp, dry echo of hardened stone. “For centuries, my people were fed with the rich fruit of the mana tree. Our land was prosperous, lush, and beautiful. But one day the seed began to shrivel and die. There was no more fruit. No more food. My people starved. We turned to Divino for help, but they did nothing. Nothing. They would have let us starve to death.”

  “But you didn’t starve to death,” Porter interjected. “Divino must have helped you in some way.”

  “Help?” Zaputo’s eyes went black. “Your ruler, Keegan, gave me a choice. Use my fleet of ships to ferry his slaves, in return for barely enough food to keep my people from certain starvation, or watch them die. That was how Keegan helped me—by giving me a choice. Do his evil deeds or let my people die. I chose for the people of Aquat to live.”

  Zaputo took a step back. He planted his legs wide and folded his arms across his broad chest, assuming a stance of contemptuous command. “You ask for pity? There is none. The people of Divino mean nothing to me.” He raised the mana seed and held it aloft. “As this seed hardened, so did the hearts of the people of Aquat.”

  For a long moment there seemed to be nothing to say. Then Mudge spoke.

  “You’re wrong. Keegan does not use you. You allow yourself to be used. You are the captive here—Keegan’s captive. Today is the day to break free. To choose not to do Keegan’s bidding.”

  Astonishment swept across the harsh lines of Zaputo’s face. He gave a low rumble of laughter and glanced over his shoulder at his men. “Bold words for a small child. He chirps like a little bird, filling the air with his noise.”

  His crewmen joined in the ridicule of Mudge. But as the laughter subsided, Tom noted that something about Zaputo had changed.

  A moment ago he’d been ready to order his men to kill them all. Now a glimmer of interest showed in his dark eyes. He studied Mudge with an intensity that went beyond mere cutthroat desire to see him punished for the failed mutiny. A distant spark of recognition lurked in his gaze—a recognition of truth that somehow seemed to play in Mudge’s favor.

  As though sensing his advantage, Mudge pushed on. “Keegan’s days of power are over. The tides have changed. There is a new ruler in Divino.”

  Zaputo shrugged. “This news has already reached us. It means nothing. The next ruler of Divino will be as evil as Keegan. That will never change.”

  “You’re wrong. The new ruler of Divino will help your people.”

  The statement was so at odds with the reality of their situation—vastly outnumbered and utterly defenseless—it was hard for Tom not to gawk at Mudge in disbelief.

  Zaputo opened his mouth as though he was going to make another biting comment, but his words died in his throat as Mudge reached into his boot and withdrew the Sword of Five Kingdoms, its five black stones glistening in the morning sunlight.

  “I tell you this as new ruler of Divino.”

  Zaputo drew in a sharp breath. His men tensed, reaching for their weapons, but Zaputo stayed them off with a wave of his hand. He stepped forward, intently examining the blade. He glared at Mudge. “The Sword of Five Kingdoms,” he said. “What trickery is this?”

  “No trickery,” Mudge replied. “Proof that I tell you the truth about Keegan. He has been defeated.”

  Zaputo’s brows narrowed. His voice rose. “And now you think you will use that sword to defeat me?”

  “No,” Mudge answered. “No more battles. No more slave trade. Our people were once united. Our nations prospered. It can be so again, but only if we work together. We can help the people of Aquat. We will find another way to feed your people. Together we will rebuild your proud nation.”

  Zaputo scratched his chin and regarded Mudge as though he were looking at an utterly confounding creature, a dog that could talk or a sheep that quacked. “Empty promises,” he muttered.

  “Real promises,” Mudge countered. “But first we must rid both our lands of the scavengers. If they’ve reached Divino, they must be in Aquat as well.”

  Although Zaputo didn’t reply, the dark looks exchanged by his crew, coupled with their uncomfortable shuffling, was answer enough.

  “We can destroy them all,” Porter cut in. “The Black Book of Pernicus will tell us how. The map we brought aboard, the map of the Cursed Souls Sea, leads us directly to it.”

  Zaputo’s lips curved upward in a cold smile. “The Black Book cannot be found. It has been missing for thousands of years.”

  “We can find it,” Mudge said. “Just as we found this sword. The map you took from us leads to the book. But we’ll need your help to reach it.”

  Willa stepped forward. “You swore yesterday you would fight for your children,” she reminded Zaputo. “Now is the time to do so.”

  Zaputo glared at Willa. Then he turned his dark stare on Tom, Porter, and Mudge.

  Tom moved to stand beside Willa. “Everything you’ve heard is true—”

  “Enough!” Zaputo bellowed. “I have heard enough! Now I will think on it.”

  Tom went still, his pulse hammering in his ears as he waited for Zaputo to decide what to do.

  Seconds stretched into what seemed like hours. Tom’s senses intensified as the moment seemed to freeze in time. He was aware of the sharp morning breeze snapping the ruby sails overhead, the scent of gunpowder lingering in the air, the anxious shuffle of the captives as they awaited their own fates.

  Finally, Zaputo nodded to his crew. “Bring me that map.”

  Tom’s relief was so great his knees nearly buckled. He glanced at his friends, watching as the color rushed back into Willa’s ashen face and Porter dragged in a deep, shuddering breath. Mudge was the only one not obviously overcome with relief. Instead, he studied Zaputo with an expression that looked remarkably like approval.

  “They will show you where the book can be found,” Mudge said, nodding to Tom and Porter.

  Two of Zaputo’s men dragged a table into place, as another retrieved the map and spread it open.

  Tom positioned himself at the western edge of the map, while Porter took the eastern edge. Their gazes locked and they exchanged a nod. Wordlessly they brought their fingertips down to rest on the parchment. The map came to life, drawing gasps from Zaputo and his crew, as well as from the captives who watched from a few yards away.

  Tom ignored them all, keeping his focus locked on the map. While the Cursed Souls Sea remained as violent as ever, and the Coral Canyon showed itself to be the only entrance into that agitated body of water, other things had changed. As they drew closer to the book, the map was somehow adjusting itself to
reflect their journey.

  The island city of Arx came into view in greater detail. To Tom, it looked as though he was viewing the crumbling remains of a great Roman metropolis, a city which must once have been a thriving center of trade. Within the ruins he recognized an open air amphitheater, a market square, courthouses, and other public buildings. The structures had been built of glistening terracotta stone, giving the whole scene a sparkling, fairytalelike glow.

  His gaze moved to the tall, lighthouse-style fortress which jutted up on the northern end of the island. It was there that the Black Book of Pernicus was held. The enormous guards armed with scimitar swords he and Porter had seen earlier—men Tom now recognized as Zaputo’s crew—no longer blocked the entrance. But that new advantage was cancelled by something far more difficult to overcome.

  The island itself was composed of nearly solid vertical rock walls. There was only one spot on the entire island where a ship could reasonably gain access, a rocky beach a few hundred feet wide. A rocky beach where hordes of moaning, angry, hungry scavengers staggered.

  From a distance, it might look like a fairytale kingdom, but it had been completely overrun by the undead. If they wanted to get ashore, they would have to fight their way across hundreds of bloodthirsty scavengers.

  Tom and Porter lifted their fingers from the map and stared at each other in dismay.

  Impossible.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A DANGEROUS BIRD

  Tom shook his head, pushing away the exhaustion and defeat that threatened to overwhelm him. It couldn’t be impossible. They’d gotten this far, there had to be a way forward. There had to be.

  He just didn’t know what it was.

  He looked up to find Zaputo and his crew watching them intently, their gazes shifting from Tom and Porter to the map resting between them.

  “The Hero Twins,” Zaputo said, as though slowly connecting the pieces.

  Tom didn’t much like that description. Probably the last word in the world he’d use to describe himself would be hero. Right after that, in a list of words least likely to apply to him, would be the term cool-headed. Based on Porter’s sour expression, his brother didn’t much like the title, either.

  “I’ve heard of you,” Zaputo continued gruffly. “The prophecies say you’ll bring light back to the Five Kingdoms. Banish the darkness that has plagued us for centuries” and exactly why Tom resisted the title of hero.

  The expectations ran just a tad too high for his taste. Banish centuries of darkness? Victory for him was turning in his homework on time. Sailing through a cursed sea to attack a towering stone fortress on a zombie-infested island was a little bit out of his league.

  “It is the second sign we have received,” Zaputo continued. “The second sign that the hardships we have endured are finally drawing to a close.”

  “What was the first sign?” Willa asked.

  “The fire bird.”

  “The what?”

  Zaputo stroked the chest of the bird riding on his shoulder. “We feared the fire bird was extinct, but it appeared just before dawn. Legend tells us that when a fiery red bird returned to the leader of Aquat, our people would rise again.”

  Tom nodded impatiently. That was all fine, but they were getting off topic. He backed it up a step and asked, “Can the Crimson Belle get us through the Coral Canyon, and then all the way to the southern harbor of Arx?”

  Zaputo puffed up his chest. “The Crimson Belle can sail anything.”

  Tom nodded. Okay. That was a start. Now they just had to deal with hundreds of rabid, disgusting, flesh-eating scavengers. He looked at Porter.

  His brother chewed his lower lip as he studied the map. Then he drew his finger from their destination, the fortress on the northern end of the island, to the rocky beach which lay to the south. “How close can we get to the beach?”

  “A few hundred yards away,” Zaputo said. “Any closer and we risk running aground.”

  Porter nodded. “Will your cannon reach that far? Maybe we can blast our way through the scavengers before we go inland.”

  “That won’t work,” Willa said. “No cannon, arrows, clubs, or swords. The only way to drive them back is with flame.”

  That meant a full frontal assault—rowing ashore, then getting close enough to the creatures to thrust a torch in whatever was left of their stinking, slimy faces. Not exactly an exciting prospect. And even if they took nearly all of Zaputo’s crew with them, they still didn’t have enough manpower to stand a chance. They’d immediately be swarmed.

  Porter must have come to the same conclusion, for his face fell. “There aren’t enough of us,” he said. “We need twice as many men and twice as many boats to take on the scavengers.”

  Twice as many men…

  As Porter’s words echoed through his mind, Tom felt the tension that had bubbled up inside him suddenly shift, like popping the cap on a bottle of soda. “Exactly,” he murmured, his mind racing. He looked at Porter. “You’re right. That’s exactly what we need. Twice as many men and twice as many boats.”

  “Why do you sound like that’s a good thing?”

  “Umbrey! He’s still out there—I know he is. He wouldn’t have left us. All we have to do is signal for his help.”

  Willla’s eyes flew open wide. “You’re right.”

  Mudge whirled around to face Zaputo. “Do you have a Mayday flag?”

  A look of sour distaste showed on Zaputo’s face. “You ask the Crimson Belle to fly the flag of a ship in extreme distress? A flag of weakness?”

  “The flag of a ship that requires immediate assistance,” Mudge corrected.

  Zaputo let out a harsh breath. He considered the request for a moment, then gave a reluctant nod to one of his crewman. The man conveyed the order and within a matter of minutes the colors had been raised. From the rear mast fluttered a crisp white flag with a bold blue cross in the center.

  “A waste of time,” Zaputo said. “This captain, this Umbrey of yours, will not come. If he has any brains at all, he’ll assume it’s a trick.”

  Mudge shook his head. He lightly ran his fingers along the hilt of the Sword of Five Kingdoms, which he now carried tucked in his belt, in the same fashion as Zaputo carried his own weapon. “You’ll see,” he said. “The people of Divino have learned from their mistakes. This time the Mayday flag will be answered.”

  They stood together against the rail, scanning the horizon. Tom clenched his fists and rapped his knuckles impatiently against his thigh. Waiting. Sharp slivers of doubt pierced his thoughts as time ticked slowly past. Where was Umbrey? What if they were wrong? What if Umbrey had left them? What if he was simply too far away to see the flag? What if—

  The Purgatory coasted into view, her crisp white sails billowing against the brilliant morning sky. Umbrey.

  Tom let out a long, deep breath. Beside him, Porter slammed his fist in victory against the ship’s rail, and Willa gave a wild cheer. A beaming smile broke out across Mudge’s face.

  “I knew it,” Mudge said. “I knew he’d come.”

  Zaputo’s crew launched into action, lowering the Crimson Belle’s sails and bringing her into alignment with the Purgatory. Within a matter of minutes the two ships were so close they were almost touching. Umbrey’s crew tossed ropes to Zaputo’s men, who caught them and began tugging, drawing the Purgatory closer, inch by inch, until the two hulls gently bumped and the ropes were tied off. As a last measure, a broad wooden plank was put in place between them, allowing the crew to traverse from one ship to the other.

  The next sound Tom heard was the steady thunk of Umbrey’s peg leg as he walked, alone, across the plank. He reached the end and stopped. Fisting his hands on his hips, he frowned as he looked at Tom, Porter, Willa, and Mudge.

  “Well, you’re alive,” he said. “At least there’s that. But I’ve seen you look better.”

  Tom glanced at his friends. It wasn’t pretty. Porter’s face was bruised, a cut scabbing over his left eye, and his cl
othing was torn. Willa’s hair was mussed, her face and clothing little better than Porter’s. Mudge looked equally battle worn, and Tom knew his own appearance was just as bad. His lower lip was split, and was so swollen it felt like he’d kissed a pufferfish.

  “Rough morning,” he said.

  “So I gather.” Umbrey looked at Zaputo. “You’re responsible for that?”

  Zaputo locked his arms over his broad chest and scowled. “They attempted to organize a mutiny among the captives. My men defended this ship, as they are trained to do.”

  Umbrey nodded, considering the other man’s words. He gestured toward Tom, Porter, Willa, and Mudge. “But you let them live anyway.”

  Zaputo gave an indifferent shrug. “For the moment.”

  Umbrey stepped off the plank and moved to stand before Zaputo. The fiery bird perched on Zaputo’s shoulder emitted a sharp caw! and ruffled its feathers as the two men silently sized each other up. Umbrey must not have minded what he saw, for he extended his hand.

  “Umbrey,” he said, by way of introduction. “Captain of the Purgatory.”

  Zaputo grudgingly shook his proffered hand. “Salvador Zaputo. Captain of the Crimson Belle and ruler of Aquat.”

  “I saw your flag,” Umbrey continued. His gaze moved across the deck. “But I see no signs of distress.”

  Zaputo tilted his head toward Tom and his friends. “I will let them speak,” Zaputo said. “They are good at that. Especially the little one.”

  Willa and Mudge stepped forward. Together, the two of them outlined their plan. After a brief discussion, Umbrey gave his assent to take the dinghies from the Purgatory onto the Crimson Belle. Once they were properly transferred and lashed to the side, Umbrey mounted a wooden box and addressed his crew.

  “Men of the Purgatory,” he bellowed, “we have answered a Mayday call. The Crimson Belle needs our assistance. They will be sailing into the Cursed Souls Sea. They require able-bodied men to join them in their fight to rid our lands of scavengers. A few of you will have to stay behind to defend the Purgatory, but for the rest of you there is no guarantee you’ll return alive, or that you’ll return at all.” He paused, a scowl on his face as he scratched the stubble on his chin. “Most likely you’ll be torn to bits by flesh-eating scavengers, be devoured by sharks, starve to death on some godforsaken island, or die some other gruesome death too horrible and painful to name.”