The Curse of the King

  As Mustafa slouched forward, I could see a set of thick fingers gripping either side of him, holding him upright from behind.

  He stopped moving and fell to the ground in a limp heap. Torquin, burned and smiling, stood over him. “Surprise.”

  It was all the distraction I needed. I shoved my elbow back into Yianni’s midsection. As he let out a grunt of surprise, his hands loosened around my neck.

  I dropped to the ground and rolled away. Marco and Torquin were running toward me, but there wouldn’t be enough time. Yianni whipped his arm around, the knife slashing through the air toward my face. All I could think to do was kick his knee. Hard.

  With a scream, Yianni fell back. The knife flew out of his hand. Before he hit the ground, Marco was on top of him, delivering a punch to the face.

  As he went still, the jungle was quiet again. Even the birds seemed to have backed off.

  Marco stood up, wiping his brow. “I could go for some ice cream.”

  Cass was staring at him in awe. “That was gnizama.”

  “And soooo scary!” Aly cried out, nearly tackling me with a hug.

  It hurt. My whole body hurt. But I didn’t push her away. Somehow the pain was, for that moment, tolerable.

  Torquin was stepping toward Marco, clenching and unclenching his fists. His face, already burned, was turning redder.

  “Whoa, is that Torko the Terrifying?” Marco exclaimed. “Dude, nice haircut!”

  “Torquin clobber Marco the Meathead,” the big guy growled.

  “No,” I said. “Leave him, Torquin! He saved us. He did . . . all this.”

  Torquin looked around at the unconscious Massa. “But—Marco is—”

  We were all looking at Marco now. “Explain yourself,” Aly said softly. “Because right now, to me, you are a big enigma.”

  Marco scratched his head. “I’m a ship?”

  “Enigma means ‘mystery,’” Aly said with a groan. “Herman Wenders just gave that name to his ship!”

  “Marco, why did you turn on the Massa like that?” I asked.

  Marco shrugged. “You didn’t pull my finger.”

  “Not funny.” Torquin lunged at Marco, grabbing his tunic collar and raising a fist. “I have message. From Professor Bhegad.”

  “Whoa, back off, Kong! Chill,” Marco said, wriggling loose from Torquin’s grip. “No more joking. I promise. Look, I messed up. Totally. I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I mean, okay, back at the beginning? Brother D is all, behold His Highness Marco the Magnificent, woo-hoo! At first I’m skeptical, because I don’t want to leave you guys—but they’re all, hey, no worries, your pals will come over. So I listen to their side of the story and it makes sense. Plus, I get to fight beasts and learn leaps and other stuff while I’m waiting for you guys to change your mind and go Massa.”

  “You really thought we’d do that?” Aly asked.

  Marco nodded. “I hoped you would. They treated me really well. Until one day it’s like, meeeeeaaaaah, you missed the daily double, sorry, we changed our minds. I start having to train these bratty kids and people are ordering me around like I’m just another goon. No one says why, so I start really listening to their conversations and they’re all about raising the continent, and death counts, and body disposals—and suddenly Brother D is talking about the Destroyer and Loculus shards, and I’m like what? Then one day, bang, you guys are here. No warning, nothing. I see how they’re treating Jack, and I start putting two and two together—but slowly, because math is not my strong point . . .”

  His voice trailed off. I didn’t recognize the expression on his face, because I’d never seen it before.

  I was guessing vulnerability.

  Aly stepped closer to him, but he turned away. “So, yeah,” he said. “I was a traitor. You guys can be haters, I understand that. But it’s over with the Massa and me. Sorry for being such a dork. You, too, Tork.” A tiny smile grew across his face. “Traitor, hater. Dork, Tork. I’m a poet and I don’t know it.”

  Torquin turned to us. “This is English?”

  “I understood it,” Aly said. She reached out and put a hand on Marco’s arm. “I want to believe you. But you really hurt us, Marco. How can we trust you?”

  “Don’t you?” Marco swallowed. “I mean, we’re family, remember?”

  No one answered.

  “Professor Bhegad always said trust had to be earned,” I said quietly.

  Marco nodded. He looked us each in the eye. I was afraid he’d make some lame joke, but he looked more serious than I’d ever seen him. “So I guess I start now.”

  He reached out with open arms. Eloise, who had been standing silently the whole time, flew into them. He lifted her off the ground.

  Aly was next, then Cass, and finally I gave in, too. He lifted us all, and it felt really good to have him back.

  “Marco, I’m curious about one thing,” I said as he let us down. “What would you have done if I had pulled your finger?”

  “Farted,” Marco said.

  Aly grimaced. “Maybe we don’t want you back.”

  But Marco didn’t answer. His eyes were focused into the woods, and he swallowed hard. “Dudes,” he whispered, “they’re coming in quick. We are toast unless we move now.”

  “You can see that?” Cass said.

  “A night-vision thing,” Marco said. “G7W works in mysterious ways. Get down! Now! DOWN!”

  We all hit the ground. I heard whistling noises, followed by thuds.

  A few feet away, Brother Yianni’s body jerked, an arrow jutting up from him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  AMBUSH

  ARROWS WHISTLED PAST us. A monkey fell from a tree with an agonized howl. I ducked behind Brother Dimitrios’s motionless body. The sack that contained the Loculi was just to my left, lying next to my backpack. I gathered them both up and held them close.

  Aly stared at the arrow stuck in Yianni’s chest. “They’re hitting their own people!”

  “What do we do now, your majesty?” Marco called out.

  Don’t run if you don’t know where the enemy is.

  I took a deep breath and fought back panic. I didn’t want to lead us into ambush. Peering up from behind Brother Dimitrios, I watched the arcs of the arrows as they dropped into the clearing—all from one place, directly opposite us.

  Cass was the one who could guide us to the volcano. But he was still shaking. I was worried about him. We would need him to focus on his own skills, but he was a basket case right now.

  I grabbed a knife, a gun, and a flashlight from the belt of Brother Dimitrios. “They’re all clumped together,” I said. “We need to get out of the arrows’ pathway. It’s dark, but I think I can get us clear. Cass, when I give the word, can you put us back on the path to Mount Onyx?”

  “Yeah, but—” Cass said.

  “Good!” I shot back. “Follow me! Now!”

  I hooked the backpack over my shoulder. Crouching as low as I could, I ran. I used my flashlight to guide the way in the darkness and Dimitrios’s knife to bushwhack a path through the vines and branches.

  I was nearly out of breath when the trees gave way to a swamp. I paused by the edge. My flashlight beam was starting to dim and I shut it off. The only sounds I could hear now were my own breaths and the buzz of mosquitoes hovering over the muck. “Hold up!” I said, as Aly, Marco, and Torquin ran up beside me.

  I waited for two other sets of footsteps.

  “Um, where’s Cass?” I said.

  A distant, high-pitched shriek was my answer. “Eloise!” Aly said. “Something happened to her.”

  She and I jumped toward the sound, but Torquin grabbed both our arms. “Getting Cass not safe.”

  “Leaving Cass not sane,” Marco said, sprinting into the jungle.

  “Don’t!” Aly cried out, but he was out of sight.

  As Torquin roared his disapproval, I pulled loose of the big guy’s grip.

  “Don’t you dare go after them and leave me alone,” Aly
said.

  “I have a gun,” I said. “If we circle around carefully, we can surprise the attackers.”

  “You’re going to shoot them?” Aly said. “When have you ever shot anything?”

  “I went duck hunting with my dad,” I said. “Once.”

  “Did you hit any of them?” she asked.

  “I missed on purpose,” I said. “Come on!”

  Without waiting for a reply, I dropped the backpack on the ground, flicked on my flashlight, and began to run. I beat a path parallel to the one we’d taken, keeping Eloise’s screams to my left. The attackers would be following her screams, too. If they got to her first, we needed to be in a position to ambush.

  At the distant sound of rumbling voices, I stopped. Aly and Torquin came up behind me. I put my finger to my lips and clicked off the flashlight.

  The attackers were directly ahead. I heard a moan, and some frantic-sounding whispers. As we tiptoed closer, branches cracked beneath our feet, but no one seemed to hear us.

  There.

  About twenty yards in front of us, a dim light flickered. I fell to my chest and crawled forward, until I could make out a group of silhouettes gathered around a fire—not many, maybe three or four. As Aly and Torquin crawled up beside me, I took aim with the gun. My hands shook.

  “What are you doing?” Aly said. “What if you hit Eloise or Cass?”

  “I don’t see them,” I said.

  “Time to squash Massa,” Torquin said, crouching as if to pounce.

  The voices fell silent. Torquin fell to his stomach, and we all held our breath.

  A moment later, I heard the click of a cocked pistol from behind us.

  Aly smacked my arm. “Stop it. This king stuff is going to your head.”

  “It wasn’t me!” I protested.

  “What?” Aly shot back. “Then who—?”

  I whirled around, gun in hand.

  “Drop it, cowboy,” a female voice said.

  I let the gun fall. Rising to my knees, I put my hands in the air. Together, Aly, Torquin, and I stood and turned.

  A dark figure stood before us, holding a flashlight. Slowly she pointed it toward herself, chest high, shining it upward until her own face was revealed.

  “Why didn’t you lame-os tell us it was you?” said Nirvana.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  FIDDLE AND BONES

  THE BLACK LIPSTICK was gone.

  That was the first thing I noticed. Her jet-black hair was growing in sandy blond, her cheekbones were sharper, and her skin was deeply tanned. But there was no mistaking Nirvana’s lopsided, ironic smile. “You . . . scared me . . .” was all I could think to say.

  “Be glad I’m not wearing my goth makeup. You’d have a heart attack.” She holstered her gun and held open her arms, her smile growing into a wide grin. “Oh, by Qalani’s eyelashes, is it good to see yooooooou!”

  Aly and I flew into her embrace and hugged her tight. Torquin shifted from side to side in an elephant-like way and cocked his head curiously, which was about as close as he got to cuddly. It took Nirvana a moment to recognize him. “Whoa, is that Torkissimo? What happened, dude—someone stick your face in a jet engine?”

  “Um . . .”

  As the big guy formulated an answer, Aly shook her head sadly, looking at our friend’s gaunt figure. “I could feel the bones through your shirt, Nirvana.”

  “So we gave up fine dining for the cause,” Nirvana said with a laugh. “Girl, I can’t believe this! How on earth did you guys get here? How did you take out those Massa? Oh who cares, I am so happy to see you!” She turned and called over her shoulder, “Guys! It’s Aly and Jack! And a radically reimagined Torquin!”

  A chorus of screams echoed through the woods again, but this time it wasn’t monkeys. I saw Fritz the mechanic, Hiro the martial arts guy, Brutus the chef, and an architect I’d once met whose name was Lisa. Their smiles beamed through sunken, grime-covered faces. They mobbed us, high-fiving and whooping at the top of their lungs.

  Behind them were Eloise and Cass. “Where were you?” I called out.

  “They ambushed us, thinking we were Massa,” Cass said. “Eloise screamed.”

  “You screamed!” Eloise said.

  But Cass had recognized Nirvana and was running into her arms, shrieking with joy.

  “Pile up!” boomed Marco.

  As he jumped into the group, nearly knocking us all over, Nirvana shot Cass and me a nervous glance.

  “Marco’s one of us again,” Cass explained.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Can we be sure of anything?”

  “Word.” Nirvana, Cass, and I silently looked at the small, ragged group. Everyone seemed so happy. But the ripped clothing and haggard bodies made it clear that the rebels had been through some tough times.

  One of them, I noticed, was missing. “Where’s Fiddle?” I asked.

  Nirvana’s eyes darted back in the direction they’d come. “Come on. He’ll want to see you.”

  As she pulled me through the rejoicing crowd, I called out for Aly, Cass, and Marco. Together we ran to the fire, which was in a small clearing. One of the Karai medical staff was hunched over Fiddle’s body—someone I vaguely remembered seeing at the hospital back in the Karai days. “How’s he doing, Bones?” Nirvana asked.

  “The fever spiked again,” the doctor replied, her face drawn and hollow. “One hundred four and rising.”

  Nirvana squeezed her eyes shut. “He insisted on coming with us. I knew he was too sick. I shouldn’t have let him.”

  By now my two friends were kneeling by our side.

  Three friends. I had to include Marco now.

  “What happened to him?” Aly asked.

  Bones sighed. “It’s the jungle. There are disease-carrying insects, birds, mammals, poisonous berries. It could be any of those things. I wish I could diagnose him properly, but we’re nowhere near any equipment or medical supplies. He’s been like this for a while. Coming out with us was not a good idea.”

  “Will he be okay?” Aly said, smoothing out Fiddle’s hair across his forehead. “Hey, buddy, can you hear me? What can we do for you?”

  “I could use”—Fiddle struggled for words, his eyes blinking—“a burrito.”

  Aly smiled. “We’re out of chicken. Will monkey meat be okay?”

  Fiddle’s glance moved from her to Marco to Cass to me. “Okay, tacos . . . instead.”

  “It’s us, Fiddle!” I said. “Jack, Aly, Cass, Marco, and Torquin.”

  His eyes seemed to flash with recognition. “Can’t . . . believe this . . .” he rasped. “The fearsome fivesome . . .”

  He laughed, but the laugh made him cough. The cough quickly grew until his body was spasming and his soot-darkened face began turning red. Nirvana quickly reached into a weather-beaten sack, pulled out some kind of animal bladder, and began squeezing water into his mouth. “You’re going to make it,” she said.

  He moved his mouth as if to respond, but he gagged. His head jerked upward and his arms and legs twitched. I could see Dr. Bones racing over as his body went limp and his eyes rolled back into his head.

  “Fiddle? Fiddle, do you hear me?” Dr. Bones slapped his face, then grabbed his wrist briefly to feel for a pulse. Almost immediately she let go and leaned hard into his chest, pumping it three times, and then three times again.

  “Yo, let’s bring him to the waterfall!” Marco blurted out, reaching for Fiddle’s shoulders. “That thing put me back together again.”

  “No, Marco, it won’t work for him—you’re a Select,” Aly said. “It works for us, not for normal people.”

  “Cass,” I said. “The shard!”

  Cass swallowed. “I don’t know, Jack . . .”

  “Just give it to me!”

  Cass reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic pouch that contained the fused, pebble-sized shard. I spilled it into my palm and ran around to the opposite side of Fiddle’s body from Dr. Bones. Fal
ling to my knees, I pressed the shard to his abdomen. I could feel the little remnant begin to shrink again. “Come on . . .” I murmured. “Come on, Fiddle . . .”

  “Works for Select only,” Torquin said, “like waterfall?”

  Aly shook her head. “No, Loculi are different. The touch of a Select lets the power of the Loculus flow through. But this one’s wasting away. We need the other pieces. Where are the other pieces? Where’s the sack?”

  “I left the backpack by the swamp,” I said.

  “I’ll get it!” Cass said.

  As he ran back, I kept pressing the shard until I felt nothing. The doctor, still holding on to Fiddle’s wrist, placed his arm down on the ground and shook her head.

  I pulled away and sat back. Overhead the monkeys fell silent. As if they knew. Fiddle’s mouth was open, his eyes staring upward and his brow beetled as if he’d noticed the silence, too.

  Something the size of a seat cushion landed softly on my shoulder, and I knew it was Torquin’s hand. “Good try, Jack,” he said softly.

  All around me, heads bowed and tears ran runnels through dirt-stained faces.

  I opened my palm. At the center was a small, colorless dot, about the size of a sesame seed.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  THE LABYRINTH AND THE TAPESTRY

  “HERE IT IS!” Cass shouted, running toward me with the sack containing the shards. When he saw Fiddle, he stopped short. “Is he . . . ?”

  “I’m sorry . . .” I murmured, both to Fiddle and to my friends. “I’m so sorry.”

  Eloise burst into tears. “I never saw a dead person before . . .”

  Cass put an awkward arm around her shoulder. As the KI people gathered around the body, one of them held some kind of makeshift torch. Fiddle’s features seemed to flutter in the light of the flame.

  “My best friend on the whole island . . .” Nirvana said, swallowing a sob. “I was such a brat when I got here. He schooled me.”

  “I don’t know why the shard didn’t work,” I said. “It worked with Aly . . .”

  “Maybe too small,” Torquin suggested.

  I stared at the tiny, freckle-sized dot in my palm. “I could have run for the other shards sooner. What was I thinking? I killed him . . .”