Salamaine's Curse (20 page)

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.

T
om 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 clothing 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.”

Tom shook his head. Nothing like sticking to the pure, unvarnished truth to really motivate people.

Umbrey slapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. “On the other hand, you might just succeed in ridding our lands of those vile creatures once and for all. So. There you have it. You've been told what you're up against. Who among you will risk his life to help them?”

His crew gave a roar and surged across the plank, joining the men of the
Crimson Belle.
Umbrey nodded approvingly. “They're a rough, scurvy lot, but they've got spine.” Then he stepped down from his makeshift podium and looked at Zaputo. “They're well trained, as loyal as the day is long, and they follow orders. You'll get no trouble from them.”

They wasted no time getting to work. There was much to do, and little time to do it. A few of the Divino captives—very young children and infants, along with the elderly or those too ill to fight—were escorted back to the
Purgatory.
The rest of the men and women of Divino remained aboard the
Crimson Belle
to assist with the coming battle at Arx.

They transferred dinghies from one ship to the other and lashed them to the side. The
Crimson Belle
lost her sleek lines, but the boats would be necessary for them to get everyone ashore.

Next they fashioned club-like torches for weapons. Using brooms, mops, oars, or any other piece of wood they could get their hands on, they wrapped one end in heavy canvas and soaked it in kerosene, creating what looked to Tom like dozens of enormous matches. Last of all, they primed and loaded their cannons.