Salamaine's Curse (24 page)

They raced away from the beach and found a crude trail that appeared to lead north. The path led them across the ruins of Arx. They sped past collapsed columns and crumbling amphitheaters, ducked under fallen edifices and leapt over piles of broken rubble. All around them were the badly deteriorating remains of the ancient city. An archaeologist's dream—or nightmare, depending on one's point of view. All Tom knew for certain was that they had to keep moving.

His lungs burned and a deep cramp pierced his side. Tom lost track of how long they'd been running or how much land they'd covered when he heard Willa shout.

“Look!”

Breathing hard, he staggered to a stop and turned his gaze in the direction she pointed. Although he hadn't been fully conscious of it, he noted now that the path they'd been following had taken them uphill. They stood on a rocky, coastal bluff overlooking the harbor.

The flotilla of boats they'd taken ashore was heading back to the
Crimson Belle.
There was no mistaking what that meant. Zaputo and the others had held off the scavengers for as long as they could. Now Tom, Porter, Willa, and Mudge were on their own. Just the four of them alone on the island. Just the four of them … and whatever revolting, undead creatures lurked among the rubble.

Tom swallowed hard as fear knotted his stomach. He dragged in a deep breath, then nodded to the fortress. “It's all right,” he said. “We're almost there.”

He took a second to survey their surroundings. The dominant feature, of course, was the tower fortress, which loomed directly ahead of them. Cylindrical in shape and built of dark, uneven stone, it sat perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. Something about the structure struck him as medieval in design, and vaguely sinister—the sort of place where a king might be locked up before his beheading.

The rest of their surroundings had the washed-out, pale look of desert terrain that had baked in the sun for centuries. Or maybe a lunar landscape was a better way to describe it. There were no trees, no bushes, no scrubs or grasses. No water anywhere. The ruins of the ancient city were long behind them. Now all Tom could see were craters, boulders, and rocks. Everything was dry and dusty.

The trail they followed hooked slightly to the left, curving up toward the fortress. Initially, the path had struck Tom as a poor imitation of a road. At this juncture, however, it revealed itself to be what it truly was: a loose scrabble of rocks and gravel that flowed uphill.

He turned his attention back to the tower. But the longer he looked at it, the more convinced he was they shouldn't go anywhere near it. Some deep, inner alarm sounded a warning to stay away. Far away. He ignored it. They didn't have a choice.

“C'mon,” he said, “let's get this over with.”

They clawed their way up the path, hunching down low to use their hands, as well as their feet, where the ground rose too steeply to be traversed any other way. The late afternoon sun beat down mercilessly, causing Tom's hands to grow slick with sweat. A dry howling wind kicked up, but it did little to cool him off. His head was pounding, his lips were parched, and a fine dust coated his throat, making it almost impossible to swallow. Water. They should have brought water.

It doesn't matter,
he told himself.
They were almost there. They had to be. Just one more turn around the bend…

But with every turn, circling the structure over and over, the tower never seemed to get any closer.

Tom drew to a sudden stop. “Wait,” he said, his voice little more than a hoarse croak. They should have been there by now. Something was wrong. It shouldn't be taking this long.

He looked at Porter, Willa, and Mudge. They were sweaty, coated with dust, so exhausted they swayed on their feet. The dried saltwater had stiffened their clothing, and the rope they each carried slung across their chests had rubbed raw sores into the sides of their necks. In addition, Tom and Porter had both been carrying torches. Tom's arm ached, his muscles trembling with the strain of keeping the torch aloft.

They'd been climbing for what felt like hours, yet they were no closer to the tower. It didn't make sense.

The wind picked up again, but this time Tom heard something within it that he'd been too exhausted, too focused on his climb, to hear before.

Pernicus's laughter.

It was a trick. There was no way to reach the tower. At least, not the way they were attempting it. Porter and Willa must have heard it as well, for Porter let out a black oath, while Willa sank down on a boulder, her expression utterly defeated.

“We'll never make it,” she said.

Tom shot a glance at the horizon. The last time he'd checked, the sun was overhead. Now the fiery orange ball looked nearly ready to sink into the Cursed Souls Sea.

“We have to keep climbing,” Mudge said. “We can't just give up.”

“We're out of time,” Porter spat out, looking both furious and overwhelmed.

Not yet. Tom studied the distant tower. They
had
to get there. How?

“What if we—” he began, but Willa cut him off.

“Shhh!” she said, her face suddenly tense. “Did you hear that?”

Tom listened. Wind. Waves crashing against the rocks below. The caw of a bird flying overhead. Nothing. He lifted his shoulders in an indifferent shrug, then abruptly froze.

This time he heard it. A sound that was impossible to mistake for anything else. A dull, monotone groan that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. The sound repeated over and over, growing louder as it moved toward them.

Scavengers.

His head snapped up. They'd wasted so much time circling the tower, they'd given the scavengers time to catch them.

He watched in helpless terror as the scavengers appeared, stumbling toward them. They climbed over rocks and boulders, staggering forward with their arms outstretched, their bulging eyes glittering with hunger and rage. Within seconds they surrounded the four of them on all sides, at least a dozen strong, maybe more.

Moving slowly, cautiously, Tom formed a tight circle with Porter, Willa, and Mudge, their shoulders touching as they faced outward.

Tom brought up his torch and his heart stopped. The oil-soaked canvas, bright and blazing when he'd left the
Crimson Belle,
had dwindled down to a sputtering flame. He'd been so focused on reaching the tower he hadn't noticed that his torch was dying. He cut a glance at Porter's weapon, only to find that his brother faced the same predicament.

As though sensing their advantage, the creatures issued excited grunts and shoved past each other in their frenzy to reach the foursome. Tom felt sharp yellow claws tug at his clothing. Using his torch as a club, he swung wildly, attempting to beat them back. But there were too many. With every inch of space he gained, more scavengers appeared to crowd them in.

He heard the fury in Porter's voice as he screamed at the creatures to back off, the terror and desperation in Willa's. It was a losing battle and they all knew it. There was nothing they could do, no way to hold the creatures at bay, no matter how much they might wish—

Wish.

Tom's thoughts skidded to a stop. The folly's rattle.

He dug into his pocket and yanked it free. The rattle warmed his palm, throbbing as rapidly as his own heartbeat and emitting a bright pinkish-orange glow.

There was no time to think. No time to plan a proper strategy or worry about exact wording. Not if they wanted to survive.

“Save us from these scavengers!” he yelled.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the earth beneath his feet began to tremble. Softly at first, then with increasing fury, until the entire cliff was shaking. An ear-splitting
crack
reverberated through the air. The hill upon which they stood crested like a wave, then came crashing down.

A landslide. Tom could find no other word to describe it.

The rocky path they'd been following became a living stream, raining down rocks and boulders. The four of them ducked their heads and huddled protectively in a tight circle, their arms locked around each other.

The noise was deafening, as though the earth itself was shattering into pieces. The force of the landslide enveloped them all in a choking cloud of dust and debris. Enormous rocks careened wildly around them, slamming against the scavengers. The boulders flattened the creatures and pitched them down the slope.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

The massive landslide ended, leaving nothing but a trickle of pebbles sliding down the path. As the earth settled Tom raised his head, wiped the dirt from his eyes, and looked around.

He shifted his gaze to his friends, where he saw the same amazement he felt reflected on their dust-coated faces. They unlocked their arms and stepped away from each other, each of them carefully scanning their surroundings.

The scavengers were gone. Not a single stinking, slimy creature remained.

A slow, beaming smile broke across Willa's face. She looked at Tom. “It worked,” she said. “The folly's wish. It actually worked.”

Porter tossed back his head and gave a whoop of joy. “You did it!” he said, looking at Tom. He threw his arms open wide. “I warned you not to use it, but you did, and look, nothing went wrong—”

His words were cut off by a sharp cracking sound. The ground where he stood, weakened by the slide, abruptly split apart.

The earth opened up and swallowed Porter.

It happened that fast.

One second he was there, the next he wasn't. Before Tom could shout a warning, or move, or even blink, his brother was gone.

T
om stared at the space where his brother had been. Horror froze him in place. The only part of his body which seemed capable of movement was his heart, which slammed against his ribs, then began beating at triple its normal tempo.

Umbrey's words raced through his mind.
Your wish will be granted, but always at a cost.

Porter's.
One of these times your luck's going to run out. You're going to try to play hero and end up killing somebody. I don't want to be around when that happens.

Too late. Tom's stomach clenched. They'd both warned him, but he hadn't listened.

“No!”
Willa's agonized scream ripped through the air. She raced to the spot where Porter had last stood and fell to her knees, peering into the gaping chasm.
“Porter!”

Tom rushed to her side, kneeled down, and screamed for his brother.
“Porter!”

A second later Mudge was beside them.
“Porter!”

Nothing. No sound. No echo. No reply.

Porter was gone. Just … gone.

Tom peered inside the rocky slit in the earth, but couldn't make out anything. All he could see were craggy walls and darkness without end, possibly stretching all the way to the center of the earth.

He threw one leg over and moved to drop inside.