Salamaine's Curse (25 page)

Willa grabbed his arm to stop him. “Wait!” she cried, clearly terrified. “What are you doing?”

“Going in to find him.”

“But—it could be full of scavengers. Or worse. You don't know what's down there.”

“Yeah, I do,” he answered. “Porter's down there. And I'm going to find him.”

Willa blinked. “Of course. We'll go with you.”

“No. I'll do it.”

She looked ready to argue, so Tom pressed his point. “If Porter's down there, he's probably hurt. I'll need your help getting him back up. We've got to work together. The faster we do this, the better.” He scanned the surrounding area and pointed to a heavy boulder. “While I'm gone, take your ropes and tie them to that rock. See if you can make some sort of sling—something we can use to pull him back up.”

“He's right,” Mudge said. “Let's get the sling ready, then wait until we know what else we can do to help.”

Tom was once again struck by the maturity in Mudge's voice, by his cool certainty.

He swung his other leg over. “I'll come right back. I promise.” He hesitated for a moment, then continued, “But in case something happens—”

“It won't,” Willa said firmly.

“In case,”
Tom said. “If I'm not back in ten minutes, take Mudge and get off this island. Don't wait. Get back to the
Crimson Belle
as fast as you can.”

“I understand.” A small, quivering smile curved her lips. “But we won't have to. You'll find Porter and he'll be okay. We'll get the sling ready, just in case.” She gave a firm nod, as though reassuring herself as much as Tom. “It's getting late. Hurry.”

“I will.”

Tom lowered himself into the narrow crevice. He pushed away all thoughts of what might be waiting for him below and focused on the climb. Straight down, one hand over the other, moving from foothold to foothold, his body tightly pressed against the stone face.

To his surprise, the climb was astonishingly easy. He'd scaled more difficult walls at the Lost Academy. Granted, the opening crevice was narrow and dark, but once he scooted past the initial twelve foot drop, he found himself on a spiral staircase made of stone. He raced down the twisting stairs, moving deeper and deeper into the earth, until he came to a vast, cave-like room carved from the same pinkish stone he'd seen everywhere in Arx.

He nearly tripped over the figure lying at the base of the stairs.

Porter.

His brother was sprawled out on his back. As Tom knelt beside him, Porter rose to a half-sitting position and propped himself up on his elbows. Tom performed a quick mental inventory of his injuries. He was scraped and bruised, but he didn't look like he was seriously injured. He simply looked … annoyed.

“What took you so long?” Porter snapped.

Tom's relief was so intense his knees almost buckled. “I thought I killed you.”

“Not yet. But I have no doubt you'll keep trying.”

“You all right?”

“Absolutely. Everyone should be swallowed by the earth and pitched down a stone staircase. I highly recommend it.”

Obviously his penchant for sarcasm hadn't been impaired by his fall. “Can you stand?” Tom asked.

Porter shook his head and pointed to a fallen boulder pinning his ankle. “My leg's trapped.”

With as much force as Tom could muster, he pushed his shoulder against the rock. It wouldn't budge. He twisted around and peered closer. “Look, I think it's just the cloth that's caught. If you take off your boots and slip off your pants, you should be able to get your leg free.”

Porter glared at him. “I'm not going to face the crews of the
Purgatory
and the
Crimson Belle
dressed in my underwear. Give it another shove.”

“You're being an idiot.”

“Am I? Fine. Then give me
your
pants.”

Tom planted his feet against the stone wall, leaned his shoulder against the boulder and shoved.

“Yeah, that's what I thought.” Porter planted his free foot against the stone, the muscles in his thigh quivering as he shoved against it. “This is my home,” he panted. “I don't want to be a laughingstock the rest of my life. You can leave, go back to your world. But this is all I have.”

“Shut up. You've said that before, but it's not true and you know it.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really,” Tom dug in, straining against the rock. “You've got me.”

Porter released a sharp bark of laughter. “Obviously I must not already be in enough pain for you.”

The boulder rocked a tiny bit, and together they gave a final, backbreaking shove. The stone wobbled, and then rolled free. Porter let out a long, low groan. He lifted his ankle, wincing as he flexed it experimentally.

Tom, his muscles nearly liquefied from the effort of moving the boulder, sank to the stone floor. Breathing hard, he sat with his knees drawn up, his back pressed against the wall. He turned his head slightly and looked at Porter. “You might act like a complete jerk at times, but you're still my brother.”

For a long moment, Porter didn't speak. Then he let out a deep breath and raked his fingers through his hair. “The Hero Twins,” he muttered. “Do you hate that name as much as I do?”

Caught completely off-guard, Tom blinked in surprise. “Actually, yeah, I do.”

“Because it sounds like we're nothing unless we're together?”

Well, more because Tom was absolutely certain he wasn't hero material, and also because the name sounded like a couple of idiots who ran around in spandex and capes. But as his brother seemed to have more on his mind, he simply nodded and let him continue.

“For a while,” Porter said, “after you left, it was fine. Mudge had taken the throne, we had a new council in place, and everything was under control.”

Tom arched a dark brow and looked at him. “Under control?”

“Well, almost.”

“Right.” Tom lifted his hand, ticking off fingers as he spoke. “Divino virtually abandoned, Keegan raving mad and chained in a dungeon, the Sword of Five Kingdoms effectively powerless, and dozens of undead roaming the streets.” He shook his head. “It might not have been as tight and organized as you thought.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across Porter's lips. “So maybe a few things needed a minor adjustment.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He shrugged. “It must have been bad, or Mudge and Willa wouldn't have sent Umbrey to find me.”

“What?”

“Mudge and Willa sent Umbrey to find me.”

“No. I sent Umbrey to find you. I knew we needed you.”

Their eyes locked, and Tom felt a tug between them—an emotional pull that was part debt, part obligation, and part something else. Whatever it was, it was the first time they'd connected without a map between them.

“The Hero Twins,” Porter said, shaking his head in disgust. “I guess we're stuck with it.”

“I guess so.” Although actually, now that he thought about it, maybe the name wasn't so bad after all. Tom stood, watching as Porter rose and gingerly took a step. “How's your ankle?”

“It hurts.”

“You'll get over it.”

Porter glared at him. “Do you have any idea how completely aggravating you are?”

“Because I used the folly's rattle even though you warned me not to?”

“No. Because your idiotic stunts always seem to work out, and mine never do.”

“I almost got you killed.” Tom held up the folly's rattle. “This didn't exactly work out.”

“Yeah, it did.”

Porter pointed upward. Until that moment, it hadn't occurred to Tom to wonder where the light was coming from, or how he was able to see if they were in an underground room. He tipped back his head and saw pale shafts of light filtering in through the arched recesses of a tall, cylindrical building. His jaw dropped open. He snapped it shut and looked at Porter.

Porter nodded. “An underground entrance. We're inside the tower.”

“I'll get Willa and Mudge.”

Tom turned and took off.

T
ogether the four of them raced up the spiral stairs leading to the top of the tower, Porter limping, but keeping pace. At last they reached the very top where they could see thick smoke billowing from a volcano. Tom peered through a crumpled opening of the tower. He knew from the map that the Island of Despair and the Island of Death were also near. He was glad they did not have to venture that way.

Tom turned, expecting to find a room. Instead they were on a circular, open-air platform of sorts. Tall arched columns carved from dark, highly polished granite wrapped around them on all sides, through which a vicious wind howled.

It was almost dark. As the sun set, the gathering twilight cast an eerie greenish-gray glow over everything. But there still remained enough light for them to see—especially as their attention was focused on just one thing.

In the center of the floor was a single stone column, approximately waist high. The Black Book of Pernicus floated above it. Despite sharp gusts of wind tearing through the space, the book hovered completely undisturbed, not so much as a page fluttering.

They edged cautiously toward it. Willa reached for it first, and was promptly rewarded with an electric shock that sent her flying backwards. As she hit the ground, the stone floor shook as though rattled by an earthquake. Tom helped her to her feet and they moved toward it once again.

Porter reached for it next. He stretched a single finger toward the book and received a sharp, biting shock. The tower trembled again, the entire structure flexing and heaving as though it were on the verge of collapse. Porter swore and took a deep breath to brace himself, then drew back his arm as though ready to plunge it through the electrical force field and grab the book.

“Don't!”

Tom grabbed his arm, stopping him.

Porter jerked free. “What are you doing?”