Salamaine's Curse (26 page)

“The tower's rigged,” Tom said. “You grab the book, and this whole place will fall down on top of us.”

As he spoke, the tower swayed like a skyscraper in an earthquake, the floor trembling in silent protest to their very presence.

“Wait a minute,” Porter blurt out. “Let me see if I understand you. The book is
right there.
Right in front of us. But if we grab it, we'll be buried under twenty tons of rock.”

Tom nodded. “I think so.”

“So you're saying we should just give up?
Now?”

Tom looked at his brother. “No. I'm saying we don't touch the book until we can get out of here fast. Real fast. Before this tower collapses on top of us.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

“Fly.”

Tom removed the coiled rope he'd been carrying and flung it down—they wouldn't need it anymore. Then he opened Willa's satchel and removed the four brass cleats he'd taken from Zaputo's ship. Setting them aside, he moved to one of the granite archways at the edge of the tower. Far beneath him, fierce waves crashed against jagged rocks at the base of the cliff. The Cursed Souls Sea frothed and foamed, churning violently.

Willa came to stand beside him. She peered across the water. “Look! I think I see the
Crimson Belle.
It's waiting for us!”

“Perfect.” Tom took off the coarse red outer shirt Umbrey's crewman had given him and began waving it in the direction of the ship.

“What are you doing?” asked Porter.

“Signaling.” Tom looked at his brother. “Remember what you said? The best way to get from the tower back to the
Crimson Belle
was if we could fly? We can't. But Zaputo's bird can. That's the answer. You said it. I just put the pieces together.”

Porter shook his head. “I wish I knew what you're talking about.”

Tom caught a glimpse of a distant spec in the twilight, a spec that grew larger and larger as it fluttered toward them. “You'll see.”

The crimson bird darted between the columns. It circled over their heads, hissing and cawing, then released a single, glistening gold object from its talons. Tom caught it in his palm as the bird darted away.

“Saved by the bell,” he murmured.

He held it up for Porter and Willa to see. They moved closer to examine it, their faces clouded with confusion. Porter scowled and shook his head. “A jingle bell? The bell from Zaputo's slipper? That's your plan? That's how we're going to get back to the
Crimson Belle?”

“No,” Tom corrected him. “Not just a jingle bell. A jingle bell with a silk thread attached to it.”

He began pulling the thread as fast as he could, drawing it toward him until it began to feel heavy. A run of fine netting was knotted to the end of the thread. He pulled yard after yard of the netting until he reached a length of slim rope. He dragged that in, hand over hand, until he reached the coarse, heavy rope that would hold their weight and carry them back to the Crimson Belle.

“Brilliant,” Willa breathed.

Tom looked at Porter. “Can you tie a knot that won't slip loose?”

At Porter's nod, he handed him the end of the rope. Porter secured it to a pair of heavy stone columns. “Now what? We climb down the rope to the ship? It's too far. Even if the tower doesn't collapse on us, our arms will give out before we get halfway there.”

Tom shook his head and lifted a slick brass cleat. It was slightly curved, highly polished and smooth, with a bulky knob at either end for gripping. He positioned it across the top of the rope line.

“Where I come from,” he said, “this is called a zip line.”

He explained how the concept worked. One end of the rope was tied to a stone column in the tower. The opposite end was tied to the main mast of the
Crimson Belle.
All they had to do was position the cleat over the top of the rope, grab the brass ends, and jump. Gravity would glide them down to the ship's deck.

Tom looked at Porter. “It's not flying, but it's pretty close. It might just work.”

“Might?”

“Will.”

“Listen,” Willa said, going suddenly still.

Tom knew from the look on her face what he'd hear. He cocked his head and listened anyway. The low moan of scavengers echoed up from the spiral staircase. They'd found the underground entrance. He shot a glance around the room. The staircase simply opened up to the top floor. There was no door, nothing they could use to barricade themselves in—or keep the scavengers out.

A lantern flashed in the distance, Zaputo's signal that the rope was secured on his end.

Porter looked at Tom. “I don't suppose you could think of another way to get us back to the ship?”

“Afraid not.”

“Is it safe?”

Technically, it was. Especially if they had adequate ropes, cables, helmets, safety harnesses, elbow and knee pads, and a thick foam landing spot. But as they didn't have any of that, Tom modified his answer slightly. “As long as you don't let go.”

“Perfect. I think I figured out that much already.” Porter's mouth tightened as the sound of the scavengers grew louder. Except this time the sound was coming from a different direction.

Tom leaned forward, peering over the edge of the floor. Dozens of scavengers scaled the coarse outer walls of the tower, clawing their way upward. Now the creatures were coming toward them from both inside and outside the tower. The entire tower was erupting in scavengers. They were trapped. No way to escape except the zip line—if it worked.

“Get ready,” he said. “I'll grab the book and—”

“No. We'll use my sword,” Mudge said, lifting the Sword of Five Kingdoms.

Like sticking a knife in an electric circuit,
Tom thought. He pushed the blade away. “Try it and it'll kill you.”

“No it won't,” Willa said firmly. “He's right.”

Porter shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Whatever's protecting that book doesn't know us, but it will recognize the sword,” she said. “I should have thought of that sooner. Half of the blade belonged to Pernicus, remember?”

“Just do it fast,” Tom urged.

Holding the sword aloft, Mudge stepped forward and touched the tip of the blade to the space in front of the book. An orbit of neon sparks showered the book, revealing a glowing green mist swirling around it.

He gently waved the blade back and forth, as though brushing the sparks aside. A dark hole appeared in the swirling field of green mist. Mudge thrust his fist through the hole. He grabbed the book and jerked it out. The neon sparks went black, abruptly extinguishing themselves.

Done. Tom looked at the slim black volume Mudge held. He looked at Porter, then at Willa. At Mudge. For a moment, none of them moved. Then slow, beaming smiles broke out across their faces.

“We got it,” Willa said.

“We did,” Porter agreed.

A sharp gust of wind whipped around them. The floor buckled and shook. The tower shuddered. It heaved. One granite column collapsed, then another, and another, crashing to the floor like dominoes.

“
Go!”
Tom shouted. “
Now!”

Mudge passed the book to Tom, who tucked it into Willa's satchel slung across his chest. Mudge moved to the edge of the tower, positioned his brass cleat over the rope, gripped the ends, and jumped.

Moving at an alarming rate, he shot down the rope and disappeared into the darkening twilight.

Tom peered into the darkness after him. He couldn't see anything. There was no way to tell if he had made it to the ship, or been swallowed by the sea.

Willa was next. Her face pale, she stepped to the edge of the tower floor and readied her cleat. The wind whipped around her, so intense it was a struggle for her just to stand.

“Don't look down,” Tom advised, raising his voice over the roar of the wind. “Just hold on tight and jump. The line will carry you straight to the ship.”

The scavenger's moans grew louder. Their putrid odor drifted up the stairs. They'd almost reached the top. Willa muttered a brief prayer, closed her eyes, and leapt. She shot down the rope, disappearing as quickly as Mudge had.

The tower pitched and swayed. The western edge of the structure crumbled, raining rocks and debris down on the ground below.

Tom thrust a cleat at Porter. “Go. I'll be right behind you.”

“But—”

“
Go
.”

Porter looked as though he wanted to argue, but seemed to think better of it. He positioned his cleat and jumped.

The first scavenger stumbled up the staircase and staggered to the surface.

Tom sized the creature up. Enormous, male, with what appeared to be a large part of its brain oozing down its scalp. It sniffed the air like a beast locating its prey, then swung around and lunged toward him.

The scavenger hissed in excitement as his long yellowed fingernails caught Tom's shirt.

The tower gave a final shudder. The floor split in two and gave way.

Tom wasn't going to make it. Not now. Not with the tower crumbling into pieces, cracking and heaving and hurling itself toward the ground. Not with the scavenger tearing at his clothes.

But he had to try.

He positioned his cleat, grabbed the brass ends, and jumped.

A
vertical freefall. Tom was headed straight for the jagged rocks below. Or at least it felt that way. Then the rope seemed to catch, tensing a bit beneath his weight. He felt a slight bounce as the line straightened out, sending him shooting over the Cursed Souls Sea and carrying him directly toward the
Crimson Belle.

The air exploded with a thundering rumble and the tower collapsed behind him. The rope on which he was gliding abruptly dipped. Tom could feel the slackening of tension on the line itself. He was dropping fast. But he was nearly there … so close …

The ship's main mast suddenly loomed in front of him, and Tom realized there was no way for him to slow down for landing. There was no way for him to stop at all. He was about to slam face first into a thick wooden mast. He braced himself for impact, knowing there was a very strong likelihood he was about to end up looking a lot like the scavenger he just left up in the tower.

No sooner had he resigned himself to that fate when he felt a bone-jarring thud. Two of Zaputo's crewmen tackled him as though he were a football dummy, knocking him off the zip line and sending him flying into a thick stack of canvas sails.

He lay motionless for a second, then slowly eased himself up into a sitting position. He put a hand to his head. His skull was still intact, though he had to shake his head to clear his vision. The first thing that swam into view was Willa. Then Porter and Mudge. They swayed on their feet, looking exactly how he felt—absolutely stunned to still be alive.

Before Tom could say a word to them, or even
think
of what he might say, Zaputo stepped before him, wearing silk pantaloons and a brightly colored vest. He stood with his feet planted firmly on the deck, his bulging biceps crossed over his broad chest, his thick gold necklace glittering in the lantern's light. The crimson bird once again rode on his shoulder.