Cyrus LongBones Box Set

by Jeremy Mathiesen

  Runa turned on Tier, anger burning in her steady eyes.

  “You would abandon your people over a fool’s errand?” she asked.

  “They need us,” Tier countered, “Our people need us. I’ve told you, we cannot hide down here forever.”

  “And I’ve told you,” Runa growled, “that is not your decision to make. We need you here. We do not even know if the others are still alive. And the one that leads the klops is a trickster. Who knows what sort of weapons or traps await you in the mountains?”

  “We must try,” Tier said, “What if the boy is the savior prophesied? What if this is our chance? We have not seen a klops hunting party in over a year. Hiding like rodents in this cave is no way for yeti to live.”

  Runa looked around at her people. Cyrus’ gaze followed. He saw yeti with infants in their arms, and youngsters, no larger than himself, emerge from the dark, clinging to their mother’s legs. The gravity of the earth above seemed to weigh heavy on their furry shoulders.

  “The prophecy also claims that the savior will become an eater of children,” Runa said, “It says the savior will sacrifice a part of their soul to defeat the Sea Zombie. Does that sound like a prophecy you wish to believe? I will not risk our troop over an old wives’ tale.

  “The strangers are welcome to live amongst us, enjoying all the comforts and protection of the yeti, but they have seen too much. If they fall into enemy hands, they will be forced to give up our lair, and then we will all be doomed. They can live here, but they can never leave. Any attempt to escape will result in their death, do you understand?”

  Runa stared hard at the three newcomers.

  Cyrus turned to Edward and Fibian. Both looked back with uneasy eyes. They could not hide down there forever. Death threat or no, Cyrus thought, they had to escape.

  Chapter 6

  ON THE MEND

  FOR THREE WEEKS the trio slept, ate and recovered their strength. They gorged on deer meat, nuts and stewed roots. Cyrus was not sure, but he felt his hands and shoulders had grown thicker, and his chest seemed larger than before.

  He and Fibian spent much of their time repairing their tattered clothes and stitching themselves new jackets, pants and boots, using fur blankets and Edward’s thread. At first, Runa forbid the clothing, saying the trespassers would only use them to escape, but Cyrus argued that they could not spend the rest of their lives beside the fire. Surely, they would have to learn to hunt and gather in the forest alongside the yeti, if they were to survive the north and contribute to the troop. Many yeti agreed, and finally, Runa conceded. One woman even made Cyrus and Fibian long wool underwear.

  During this time, Cyrus and Fibian began to conspire. They had to find a way to escape. They had to find the one called Gammal. Edward offered little. He just stared at the burning coals as if under a trance.

  As the yeti grew more comfortable with their presence, Cyrus began to explore the cavern.

  About forty yeti occupied the cave in total. At least twenty-five were adults. Some had made homes of wood and leather, shaped like large cones; others had hung hammocks from the thick roots supporting the ceiling.

  In a dark alcove, along an eastern wall, several large instruments hid under a dusty canvas. Cyrus spied one angular piece that peeked out from under the covers. It sat six feet high, on a three-legged stand. Its base was a golden triangle. Cyrus reached up and touched its silver scope. The spyglass pivoted on a gear-like semicircle mounted to the base.

  “It is one of the few instruments we salvaged from the attack,” a familiar voice said, “It is used for star gazing.”

  Cyrus looked to his left. Runa sat at a long, U-shaped, workbench bolted to the north wall. To her left was a barrel of water, a stone fire pit and a sheet-metal chimney rising through the roof. To her right was what looked like a massive iron anvil.

  “What are the rest for?” Cyrus asked.

  “There are more devices like that one for searching the stars, but many are for studying elements such as earth and fire, and others are for architecture and the arts.”

  Cyrus spied what looked like several old maps lying within a small iron lockbox at the far end of the wooden countertop. On the bench in front of Runa lay a tool fashioned from wood, steel and silver. To her right sat a bowl of black powder.

  Tier entered the alcove gripping a clay mold with steel tongs.

  “What are you working on?” Cyrus asked.

  The device on the counter lay in several pieces. It consisted mainly of a single steel tube that fit length-wise into a wooden staff. A small hammering mechanism plugged into a socket at the staff’s opposing end.

  “Just an idea,” Runa said, covering the parts under a sheet of leather.

  Tier dunked the mold into the water barrel. Vapor hissed into the acrid-smelling air. Then she knocked the mold against the countertop. A dozen lead balls steamed onto the workbench.

  “And what is this?” Fibian asked, emerging from the shadows, “It appears to work like a bow and arrow.”

  The froskman picked up a mechanism similar to the one Runa had covered up, but this one was single-handed and had a bow attached to one end.

  “It is a crossbow,” Tier said, taking the weapon from Fibian.

  She drew a bolt from the stalk, charged the string, and loaded the projectile.

  “This releases the bowstring,” she said, fingering a trigger near the weapon’s handle.

  Runa snatched the crossbow out of her daughter’s hand, glaring at all three.

  “Wouldn’t you rather show them the hand?” she said, unloading the weapon.

  “It is not tested,” Tier said.

  “What are you talking about?” Cyrus asked.

  “I did not want to get Fibian’s hopes up, then have it fail,” Tier replied.

  Runa stared at her daughter but said nothing. Tier hesitated, then reached towards a dusty shelf. In her large, furry hand she brought down a cylindrical contraption made of wood, copper, steel and cable. One end was hollow and lined with suede; the other had a steel clamp.

  “Could I see your right arm please?” Tier asked Fibian.

  Fibian held out his stump, looking curious. Tier fit the hollow end over the remainder of Fibian’s forearm, then secured it around his arm and elbow using leather straps.

  “You charge the water pressure using this pump,” she said.

  Tier unfolded a metal rod from the artificial forearm and pumped it several times.

  “Then you flex your arm as if to open and close your hand.”

  Fibian folded the lever back into the arm and held out the hand. The clamp snapped open. Cyrus jumped back. The hand snapped shut. Fibian looked around, his eyes bright.

  “It works,” he said, seeming surprised.

  “It will need to be recharged after several uses,” Tier added.

  “Thank you very much,” Fibian said, inspecting his new hand.

  Again, Cyrus noticed the pile of maps lying within the iron box. Was the one on top a map of the mountains?

  “That is enough for one day,” Runa said, slamming the box shut and locking it, “It is best you two return to your friend and get some rest.”

  She rose from her seat and ushered Cyrus and Fibian back towards the fire. They had seen too much for Runa’s liking, Cyrus figured. He and Fibian turned and left the room. Cyrus looked to his right and glanced down a darkened corridor. Two hairy giants stood just beyond the shadows.

  “There always seems to be two armed yeti guarding the exit,” Cyrus whispered.

  He continued through the cavern and sat down beside Edward, who lay balled up on a large rock near the glowing embers.

  “I have not found an alternate route of escape,” Fibian added, sitting on the opposite side of the stone.

  “Your arm?” Edward asked.

  The spider crawled off the rock and onto Fibian’s new hand.

  “A gift from Tier,” Fibian replied.

  “There’s no other way,” Cyrus said, “Virkelot�
�s running out of time. There was a map in a lockbox back on Runa’s workbench. We need that map, and we need more blankets, because tonight we’re leaving this place.”

  Chapter 7

  ESCAPE

  IT WAS SHORTLY AFTER MIDNIGHT. The last of the yeti had laid their heads down to rest an hour ago.

  Cyrus sweated within his custom-made fur clothes, staring down the darkened corridor. Where was Fibian? It was time to leave. This was taking too long. How would Fibian hold everything with one good hand? Cyrus should have gone to help. He looked to Edward, who warmed himself on a stone beside the bed of coals. The spider had become so distant. Had Cyrus done something wrong?

  Thank the Angels. The glow of two, pale blue orbs moved across the ceiling, emerging from the shadowy tunnel. In the light of the coals, Cyrus could just make Fibian out, dressed in his stitched wetsuit. He carried the melon-sized lockbox under his artificial arm. A yeti knife was belted around his waist, and Runa’s crossbow was slung across his back. Fibian fell from the roof, landing with a quiet plop several feet from the coals, in a pile of pillows.

  “I could not unlock the box,” Fibian whispered, “we will have to break it open.”

  “No one saw you?” Cyrus replied.

  Fibian handed Cyrus the box and crossbow and unbelted the yeti knife that was more of a short-sword in the froskman’s hand.

  “I do not believe so,” he said, dressing in his own fur clothing, “I found this among the shelves in Runa’s workbench.”

  He withdrew Cyrus’ sheathed knife from the collar of his seal skin suit.

  “That’s where it went,” Cyrus said, taking the knife and belting it around his waist.

  He inspected the lockbox. The edges were made of engraved iron, and the sides were constructed of thick paneled wood.

  Cyrus pulled two stolen water skins and a loaf of bread from beneath his fur blankets. He handed one large skin to Fibian. The second he slung around his neck. The bread they broke in two. Each one stuffed a half into the collar of his jacket.

  “And these,” Fibian whispered, handing Cyrus the fur mittens they had recently crafted.

  “Thanks,” Cyrus said, stuffing the gloves in his jacket pocket.

  The froskman kept a single custom-made mitt for his remaining webbed hand.

  “Edward, are you ready?” Cyrus asked, reaching out his hand.

  The spider looked up, his fur almost as white as the white of his large eyes. His gaze dropped to the stone; then rose again to meet Cyrus’. He nodded yes and crawled into Cyrus’ hand.

  Cyrus gestured to Fibian. Both gathered up the fur blankets and tossed them into the coals. Then Cyrus collected the box up under one arm and all three hid within the shadows, near the tunnel that led to the cave’s exit. The furs began to ignite. Slowly, the chamber filled with smoke. Much rose through the vents in the earth ceiling, but enough filled the room.

  “Help, fire,” Cyrus shouted.

  One of the exit guards came jogging down the tunnel and entered the chamber. It was a tall, lean male, his beard only starting to show. He peered about the room. Cyrus and Fibian pressed themselves against the earth wall.

  “Fire,” the yeti cried, moving towards the bed of coals.

  Fibian crouched low and led the way into the tunnel. Cyrus followed, with Edward on his shoulder.

  Fibian’s eyes lit the passage like torchlights. He raised the crossbow to his shoulder. The weapon was one-handed, but in Fibian’s relatively slight grip, he had to use his artificial forearm to support the stalk. They rounded a corner. He pointed the crossbow at the second exit guard. The yeti froze, a look of rage and fear splitting her shaggy face.

  “There is a fire,” Cyrus said, “Your friends need your help. You can leave your spear here.”

  The guard moved towards them. Fibian’s finger tightened on the trigger. Cyrus felt Edward shift on his shoulder.

  “We only want to leave,” Cyrus said, “We can’t stay down here forever.”

  The guard scrutinized the three of them. Then she studied the crossbow. Fibian’s aim did not waver. Finally, she dropped her spear, held her hands up in surrender and stepped slowly past the interlopers.

  “You won’t get far,” she growled.

  “Let’s go,” Cyrus said.

  They pushed forward through the tunnel, Cyrus following Fibian’s glowing lead. The three stopped short at a dead end.

  “I thought this was the way out?” Fibian said.

  Cyrus looked about the tunnel, feeling his anxiety rise.

  “What in Kingdom?” he cursed.

  This was it? Had their plan failed before it had even started?

  Cyrus spotted a vine dangling from the ceiling. He had a foggy recollection of a yeti, maybe Tier, pulling a vine in a darkened hollow. Cyrus jerked on the tendril, praying to the Angel King. Gears began to click. Then the floor started to rise.

  “Thank the Angels,” he whispered.

  Slowly, the smoky tunnel was replaced by a dark, snowy forest.

  The floor bumped to a stop. Crouching, Cyrus peaked out into the woods. The cold bit at his face. He felt his once-broken nose twinge. He pulled his fur hood over his head and motioned Fibian forward. Edward scurried into the collar of Cyrus’ jacket.

  Cyrus and Fibian took cover behind the trunk of a thick towering tree. Cyrus pointed to a narrow footpath and motioned Fibian forward.

  They fled like hunted foxes along the snowy trail, their heads low and their weapons at the ready. Cyrus’ footsteps squeaked through the freshly fallen snow. With all the noise he was making, he felt he might as well have had a bell around his neck.

  Through the trees, Cyrus spotted the sea. The sky was clear and the moon danced on the waves like a phantom. He heard shouts far behind them.

  “Keep moving,” Fibian demanded.

  The iron box was growing heavy in Cyrus’ arm.

  A massive gray shape stepped out from behind a great, white tree. It pointed a long staff made of wood and steel at Cyrus’ chest.

  “Runa,” Edward gasped.

  “Did you really think you could escape?” Runa asked, “Did you really think I was foolish enough to believe you three would live among us for the rest of your lives?” she cocked the staff’s hammering mechanism, “I could never just kill you in cold blood, but the more time you spent among us, the more you would have put ideas of rescue in Tier’s mind. Eventually, she would have led you into the mountains. Or you would have fled, after time, when our guard was down. You would have gotten yourselves captured by the klops, and led them right to us. You knew the consequences of your betrayal. And I knew all it would take was a little nudge to bring out your true nature,” she nodded to the wood and iron box under Cyrus’ arm, “Do you really think I would be foolish enough to leave out a map that led to mountains, where the klops dwell? And did it not seem a little too easy to escape? We are yeti, we cannot be outwitted by children, talking spiders, and whatever your blue-eyed friend is.”

  Runa focused her aim. What did that staff do?

  “Mother no!”

  Tier came running down the path, behind the fugitives. When she saw the staff, she stepped to the side.

  “Don’t,” she yelled.

  “They knew the consequences,” Runa cried.

  She closed one eye and glared down the length of the shaft. Fibian moved like lightning. The staff kicked in Runa’s grip. Fibian tackled Cyrus to the ground. A tree, behind where Cyrus stood, exploded with bark. Cyrus looked back and saw smoke issuing from a large hole in the trunk. What was that thing in Runa’s hands? He looked to the gray yeti. She threw the staff aside and drew a crossbow, like the one Fibian had stolen.

  “Mother!”

  Runa aimed it at the downed Fibian and fired. Fibian caught the bolt with his good hand. Runa’s eyes grew wide. Cyrus heard Tier move closer.

  “Stay back,” Runa said.

  She charged the crossbow a second time. Then she stood over Fibian and pulled the trigger. Fibian still g
rasped the first bolt. He attempted to catch the second with his artificial hand. The clamp snapped shut on thin air. The projectile passed clean through his chest. Fibian did not flinch. He exploded off the earth like a mad frog. Fear and confusion contorted Runa’s wide face. Fibian struck the yeti across the jaw with his copper hand. Cyrus felt Edward spring from his collar. He watched as the snow-white spider landed on Runa’s leg.

  “Edward, no!” Cyrus shouted.

  Runa grabbed Fibian by the elbows and began to pull his arms apart.

  “Mother, stop!” Tier demanded.

  Cyrus tried to rise. Tier pushed him aside. Fibian screamed in pain, then Runa shrieked, dropping the froskman. She reached down and gripped her shin.

  “Oh no,” Cyrus whispered.

  Runa stopped and stared straight at him, terror and agony in her eyes.

  “Something bit me,” she said, her system visibly going into shock.

  She looked to Tier, her expression pleading. Then she dissolved into a large mound of sand.

  “No!” Tier cried.

  Fibian scrambled to the sand pile and gathered Edward up from within the remains. Then he grasped Runa’s fallen crossbow and moved beyond Tier’s reach. Cyrus scooped up Fibian’s crossbow from the snow and pointed it at Tier.

  “It’s not our fault,” he pleaded, “It was self-defense. You saw.”

  Tier moved closer to the mound, crouching down and weeping over what was left of her mother.

  Cyrus stepped around the yeti and joined his companions. Edward’s fangs slowly retracted. He gasped for air like a frothing hound. Fibian rolled his shoulders in their sockets, keeping the crossbow trained on Tier. Tier looked up, her face full of sorrow and rage.

  “I’m sorry,” Cyrus said, still aiming the crossbow, “We didn’t want this. She was going to kill us. I have my people to think of. We can’t stay here.”

  More yeti voices came from further up the path.

  “I will find you,” Tier snarled, her fur damp with tears, “No matter where you run, Child Eater, I will find you.”