Salamaine's Curse (13 page)

He stood, lifted the Sword of Five Kingdoms, and drove it into the center of the table. The blade dug into the soft pine and stayed there, the hilt reverberating with the force of the strike.

Mudge stared at them. “He did it because he felt he had no other choice.”

For a moment, Tom was too shocked to speak. He simply looked at Mudge. In that instant, he realized he hadn't really
seen
Mudge since his return to the Five Kingdoms. Oh, he'd taken Porter's measure, smirked at Umbrey's taste for pirate frippery, felt weirdly self-conscious when Willa (who really was far prettier than he'd remembered) had hugged him. But Mudge had just been Mudge—the scrawny, scruffy-haired boy who tagged along on their adventure.

Perhaps that had once been true, but it wasn't the case any longer. Just as one might look at a puppy's paws and predict the size of the adult dog, the same was true of Mudge. In that moment, Tom had a glimpse of the man—the
ruler—the
boy might one day become. He had a presence about him now, a weight in his stare and a gravity to his bearing that seemed oddly appropriate, despite his age. Until that moment, Mudge had been content to listen to the others tell Salamaine's story. But no longer.

“He did it because he felt he had no other choice,” he repeated. “The fate of the Five Kingdoms rested on his actions, and his alone.” He looked at Tom. “Imagine it. Imagine for a moment if the lives of thousands were hinged on you. On every word you uttered, every choice you made, every action you took, every day for as long as you lived. Imagine you were there, with the screaming and the shouting and the boat sinking, and just a split second to decide what to do.”

Tom hesitated. He wanted to rail against Salamaine, to insist he wasn't capable of something that horrific, that he would never make a mistake like that—because everything he did was well thought out and perfectly planned. Except, of course, it wasn't.

“I can't imagine it.”

“Then
listen,
lad, for there's more to the tale.”

Mudge tilted his chin toward Porter. “Go on, then.”

“Salamaine was hailed as the harbinger of light,” Porter said. “He was …” he hesitated for a moment, as though searching for the right word,
“revered.
He was Marrick's chosen. People looked to him for more than just food and shelter. They wanted justice, peace, and protection. Not just for them, but for their children, and their children's children.”

“That's why the prophecy was so terrible,” Willa continued. “If Salamaine didn't answer the challenge directly, he risked destroying everything for generations to come. He must have worried whether he was doing all he could to protect his kingdoms, whether he should have been doing more. So when the wave hit the
Mayday
…” she paused, lifting her shoulders in a helpless shrug.

“It must have appeared to be the perfect solution to his problem,” Porter said. “A gift from the fates. Every dark-haired, sixteen-year-old boy gone. The threat neatly resolved. He didn't have to kill them, or imprison them, or send them away and worry what might happen when they returned in ten years time. All he had to do was
not
save them.”

Mudge nodded grimly. “The death of a few innocents, in exchange for the lives of many thousands.”

Silence, thick and heavy, descended upon the room.

Mudge reached for the Sword of Five Kingdoms and plucked it from the center of the table. “Keegan called it a cursed sword. He was wrong.” He tilted it slightly and held it up for Tom to see. “On one side, Marrick's blade. Every good action Salamaine took magnified a thousandfold. But on the other side … the blade of Pernicus. Every evil action Salamaine took magnified a thousandfold, as well.”

“Two powerful blades forged together into one sword,” Willa said. “A symbol of the good and evil that cuts through all of us.”

“So that's Salamaine's curse?” Tom asked.

Porter gave a curt shake of his head. “The scavengers are Salamaine's curse. You see, all those aboard the
Mayday
perished, but they didn't die. For centuries, the Cursed Souls Sea has kept them alive. Or at least, undead. It's meant to serve as a reminder of the evil that lurks within all of us.”

Tom shuddered. He could still smell their stench. Mudge tapped the edge of the blade against the table. “Since Salamaine created the scavengers, this blade is powerless to stop them. With every day that passes, the scavengers become stronger, and this sword becomes weaker.”

“So what do we do?” asked Tom.

“The Black Book of Pernicus,” Porter said. “His magic created the scavengers. It's said his book holds the answer to finally ridding the Five Kingdoms of them.” He reached for the map of the Cursed Souls Sea and spread it across the table. Looking at it, Willa shivered and rubbed her upper arms. “My grandfather used to say only a fool would enter the Cursed Souls Sea.”

Umbrey grunted. “Aye, but we're the fools with the map to do it.” He pushed up the dainty sleeves of his shirt (displaying hairy, muscular biceps that Tom thought were far better left covered, even if he was wearing a shirt that looked like the upper half of a wedding gown) and leaned against the edge of the table. “Well?” he demanded, glaring at Tom and Porter. “What in blazes are you waiting for? This isn't a pleasure cruise. The Black Book of Pernicus. Where do we find it?”

Keegan stood at the edge of a rocky promontory overlooking the Cursed Souls Sea. Sharp gusts of wind tugged at his cape, causing it to billow about his shoulders like a swirling black cloud. He placed one booted foot atop a low boulder and leaned forward, peering into the distance.

Umbrey's ship had departed hours ago and wouldn't return for days hence, yet he could feel his impatience brewing inside him, churning and writhing like the sea itself. The Black Book of Pernicus. It was just a matter of time until it was his. All he had to do was wait—a task for which his temperament was supremely unsuited.

He cut a bored glance at his surroundings. His army, The Watch, was spread out in the surrounding woods keeping guard. Their torches flickered even in the light of day. The precaution was unnecessary. There were no signs of the scavengers here. Not yet, at least. Unlike Divino, which sat at the heart of the Five Kingdoms, the coastal regions had yet to be overrun.

Behind Keegan was the sprawling, seaside town of Blinding Beacon Falls. As he turned his gaze to the jumbled rocks at the base of the cliff, a beacon of light stung his eyes. The beacon was meant to be friendly, but Keegan had taken up residence and would use it for his own evil end.

On moonless nights he would use the beacon to lure unsuspecting ships toward the rocky shoals. The captains of those ships believed themselves in safe harbor until the mirrors within the lighthouse were flipped around. The light intensified, blinding the crew, and causing the ship to run aground. It had been easy to raid the ship, steal the cargo, and engage the crew in a murderous brawl. The good people there were fleeing as far inland as they could go.

Coarse laughter sounded in the tavern behind him. The tavern door opened and the proprietor stepped out, overseeing four men who carried a small oak table and a pair of chairs. Once the proprietor showed his men where to place the table, he withdrew a dishcloth, brushed off the table's surface, and swept the chairs clean.

With a nervous flourish of his hands, he gestured for Keegan to sit. “This is an unexpected honor, sire,” he said. “Can I offer you something to drink? Something to eat? A bottle of my finest wine?”

Keegan remained standing. He arched a single dark brow and frowned at the man. “Are you suggesting the wine served in your hovel would be fit for me?”

Beads of sweat sprouted along the man's forehead. “No, no, of course not,” he stammered. “Forgive me, sire. Perhaps, then, a jug of cool water—”

“A jug of water? For whom? Me, or my horse?”

“I … that is …” The proprietor gazed about in desperation, as though looking for a hole he could sink into.

“Leave me.”

“Yes, sire.” He walked, almost ran, back inside the tavern.