Cyrus reached out and clasped Fibian in a bear hug. Fibian winced and clutched his ribs.
“Easy, young Master,” the froskman said, smiling. “This battle is not over.”
“Sarah!” Cyrus said, releasing his friend.
He forgot all his pain and injuries and rushed to the ship’s cabin. He passed through the broken doorway and stumbled down the treacherous stairs. Sarah lay unconscious, curled up at the bottom. Cyrus lifted her off of the boards and brought her back above deck. He laid her on the ground and rested her head in his lap.
“She defied the villagers to save me,” he said.
He touched her cheek and shook her ever so slightly.
“Sarah, wake up.”
She did not stir. He put his pointed ear to her mouth. He heard nothing.
“Sarah, please!”
He shook her harder. She did not move.
“Sarah!”
He slapped her cheeks and drew back her eyelids.
“Sarah!”
Sarah coughed and shifted in his arms.
“You’re awake. Are you okay?”
“Stop slapping me,” she said, her eyes fluttering open.
He kissed her hard on the cheeks.
“What were you thinking?” he asked.
“He was going to hurt you,” Sarah said, rising onto her elbow and rubbing her head. “What else could I do? Is he dead? Did you kill him?”
Cyrus nodded to the white spider perched on his shoulder. Sarah looked around at her three companions, confused.
“You should have seen the dragon that Master Edward once slew,” Fibian said, smiling.
She looked at the dead nagen, bleeding out onto the deck. Then she stared at the pile of armor and sand.
“The spider did that?” Sarah asked.
Cyrus nodded. She set her face in an expression of stern resolution.
“I know they betrayed you,” Sarah said, “but I can’t leave my parents.”
“We’re not leaving any of them,” Cyrus replied.
Sarah looked bewildered. Edward grew enraged. Fibian’s expression remained even.
“After what Hoblkalf and Llysa did?” Edward asked.
“It’s not about them,” Cyrus said, “It’s about the children, the ones that don’t have a choice. The villagers’ betrayal changes nothing. Rorroh must die, or we are all doomed.”
Chapter 33
ESCAPE
THE GROWING LIGHT in the east threatened the dark early morning skies. They were going to need a diversion. Cyrus’ plan was to free the villagers, escape to the head fortress, and then mount a counter-attack. It was a desperate strategy, but it was all they had.
Cyrus searched the cabin floor. He found three large candles amongst the scattered plates and cutlery. Sarah brought him a bed-sized sheet of torn canvas. He took the large scrap of sail and laid it across the deck boards in the center of the room. Then he found an oil lamp and doused the canvas, as well as the surrounding cabin, in fuel. Finally, he propped the candles against one another on top of the sodden cloth. Fibian delved into the ship’s hold. He returned with a foot-long splinter of wood lit on the embers of the stove. He ignited the candles, then extinguished the torch.
“You think this will work?” Edward asked, crouched on Cyrus’ shoulder.
“Sooner or later those candles will tip,” Cyrus replied.
“Hopefully later,” Sarah said.
Cyrus exited the cabin, then dressed in Captain Greves’ armor. Sarah and Fibian helped him with the leather straps. The armor felt light, though a little tight around his broad frame. The silk padding within the bearded mask stank of rancid oil. He found the dropped nagen blade and sheathed it within his leather belt.
“Quick,” Fibian said, “while the night is still on our side.”
The four made their way to the starboard rail. They climbed down the mesh ladder to the nagen craft tethered below. Cyrus sat in the center of the boat and managed the oars. Sarah and Fibian crouched at the bow. Edward stood on Cyrus’ shoulder, searching the skies for the troublesome flock of black-feathered spies.
Cyrus paddled towards the ghost ship’s mooring line. Fibian cut the moldy, taut rope. Slowly, the boat began to drift south, towards several enemy vessels. Sarah and Fibian then wrapped their wrists behind their backs in loose twine. Cyrus rowed for shore.
The sea was slack and the wind was still. The rescuers struck land along the port side wall. Two rock klops stood watch on the battlements above. Cyrus’ heart drummed. He imagined the innocent, terrified children. His purpose gave him strength and resolve. He leaped out of the craft, favoring his aching stomach. Suddenly, he felt struck by lightning.
Run, a strange voice cried in his mind. Gabriel? Somebody was shouting in the distance.
“We weren’t notified of any incoming captives,” one of the greenish grey brutes above bellowed.
Cyrus forced Gabriel from his mind. He knew what awaited.
“I’m notifying you now,” he yelled back. “Get down here and help with these prisoners.”
His impression of Greves’ voice was terrible.
“We don’t take orders from rats,” the second klops chuckled.
“Then you can tell our Mistress that you’ve left Captain Greves standing outside the wall with news of the yeti encampment.”
The first klops snorted. The other spat. The wall hatch clanked and creaked, then swung open. Two more rock klops ventured through the threshold, drawing their swords.
“Take the line,” Cyrus demanded, “I’ll get the prisoners.”
The long-haired brutes lumbered down the tiled shore, looking about for trouble.
“We never saw either of these two pass through the gate,” the red-bearded guard said.
The ruffian was missing two of the three fingers on his left hand.
“Yeah,” said the second, rubbing his braided mustaches, “and where’s the big male you took through here?”
“These two fled before the attack,” Cyrus lied. “Found them trying to steal a ship.”
The two barbarians weighed his words. Cyrus searched the battlements above. In the dark, he spied at least six more guards stationed along the wall. Cyrus’ hands began to tremble with adrenalin.
“Fire!” a klops shouted from the parapets, “There’s a fire on the Mistress’ ship!”
Cyrus looked out to sea. For the second time, Rorroh’s cabin was ablaze. Thank the Angels! The flaming ghost ship struck another boat. The fires from Rorroh’s craft began to lick at the bowsprit of a rock klops attack vessel.
“Quick,” Cyrus shouted, “save the fleet.”
The two klops leaped aboard a rowboat and began to speed towards the flaming ship. More rock klops emerged from the hatchways. They grasped their landing crafts up off the shore and ran them down towards the surf.
“Go, go!” Cyrus cried.
He thanked the Angel King for klops stupidity. Then he marched Sarah and Fibian up the tiled beach, past more running wall guards. Edward crawled within his helmet. They reached the defenses and passed through the open hatchway. Cyrus spied a large, pale rock klops fleeing into the woods, towards the island’s center. A runner off to warn others, he reckoned. They would have to be quick.
Cyrus peered about the wall’s interior. The port side defenses stood unguarded. It seemed that the soldiers had all taken the bait.
Run, the deep voice in his mind repeated. Gabriel’s reach was growing stronger. I can’t, Cyrus said. Again, he cleared his thoughts.
Sarah and Fibian shook off their loose-fitting bindings. They began to fashion their hand ties into slow burning fuses, rubbing fire powder into the fibers.
Cyrus bounded up a wooden stairway. He peered down both ramparts. All was clear. So far fortune was on their side. He looked out to sea. The rock klops were clambering aboard their burning ship, attempting in vain to battle the blaze. The flames had devoured the vessel’s mooring line. Now two fiery craft were adrift amongst the vulnerable flee
t.
Cyrus retrieved a communication torch from its wall bracket. He hurried back down the stairs. Sarah had fixed her fuse to the breech of the nearest wall cannon. He lit the long wick. It slowly began to fizzle and smoke. They dashed along the defenses to where Fibian had readied a second cannon. Again, Cyrus ignited the fuse.
“We’ll need at least ten minutes,” Edward said, from Cyrus’ shoulder.
“Then we better hurry,” Sarah replied.
They found a mound of water klops near the edge of the woods and began to arm themselves with the dead soldiers’ guns. Cyrus took for himself two pistols and a rifle. Then they set off down a darkened pathway towards the center of the island.
The forest was murky and frigid. Rats and other vermin chittered and scampered amongst the shadowy undergrowth. Fibian lit their trail with his large blue eyes. Sarah followed the froskman. Cyrus brought up the rear.
They came to the dimly lit would-be town center. Near the far edge of the clearing they saw the villagers caged within their incomplete fallback wall. The rescuers took cover behind thick bushes at the mouth of the trailhead. They spied a troop of nagen standing guard around the caged prisoners. At the gate Cyrus spotted the large, pale rock klops he had seen fleeing the port side battlements.
“The Captain should have been here by now,” the klops said.
“Who were those two prisoners you saw?” a nagen in a steel wolf’s mask asked.
“How should I know?” the brute replied.
“Why did you not escort them here?” the second nagen demanded.
The creature’s black and white mask depicted a fierce skull.
“There was no time” the klops cried, “the fleet is on fire!”
Cyrus searched the wall’s perimeter. He counted at least eight nagen in total. Where was their distraction? Had the fuses burnt out? Had klops happened upon the two cannons?
“Your kind can take care of the fleet,” the wolf-masked nagen said. “Go see what’s happened to the Captain.”
“I don’t take orders from red eyes,” the rock klops growled.
“We have orders to hold this position,” the skull mask said. “You do not.”
“My orders were to report the fires, not run your errands.”
Come on! Cyrus thought. This was taking too long. Then -
Boom!
Chapter 34
A CONTEST OF SOULS
THE FIRST CANNON discharged its munitions.
“What was that?” the rock klops roared.
“The wall cannons,” the wolf mask shouted.
“What trick is this?” the skull mask seethed.
Boom!
The second cannon fired.
“What mess have you fools gotten us into?” the wolf mask demanded.
“If you had come when I had told you -” the rock klops argued.
“You four stay here,” the skull mask ordered, “the rest with us.”
The rock klops and several nagen fled towards the port side defenses. Four tall armored demons remained to guard the frightened prisoners.
Cyrus, Fibian, and Sarah ducked back within the cover of the shadowy woods. The soldiers sped past. Once the rushing footsteps could no longer be heard, the rescuers began their escape plan. They started to creep around the edge of the clearing. Cyrus stepped slowly and carefully, watching for any reaction from the guards. They made their way undetected to the rear of the fallback wall. The four villains stood watch at the bow, stern, starboard and port side positions along the enclosure. The stern guard was the closest and the first that would have to go. Cyrus took Edward from his shoulder and placed him on the ground.
“You know what to do,” he whispered to the small white spider.
Edward nodded, then scurried into the underbrush. Cyrus then crept to Sarah and Fibian.
“You take the port side guard,” he said to the froskman, “you take the starboard,” he said to Sarah, “I’ll take the bow guard. Edward’s our signal. Aim for their backs, just below the armpit, where they are unarmored.”
“But Cyrus,” Sarah whispered, “I’ve never…”
Cyrus recalled his first kill. The klappen in the forest. It had been a violent, bloody affair.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice heavy with regret, “but it’s the only way.”
Sarah swallowed deeply, then nodded, steeling her resolve. She and Cyrus began to slowly circle toward the starboard wall. Fibian crept towards the port side.
Sarah took up her position alongside a fallen log. Cyrus continued past. He found his spot beside a mossy tree trunk. Gently, he rested his rifle barrel on a thin tree limb. Then he eased back his weapon’s hammer. He sighted his target and watched for Edward’s signal.
NO, Gabriel begged. Cyrus squeezed his eyes shut, shaking the voice from his mind. Not now!
Bang! Bang!
Two rifles rang out. Instinctively, Cyrus opened his eyes. He squeezed the trigger. His gun leaped and his target dropped. He turned towards Sarah. She was rushing out of the woods, making her way towards the wall. Her target was wounded, but struggling to stand. Cyrus looked towards Edward’s guard. He saw nothing. Cyrus prayed the nagen was a mound of sand. He rushed towards Sarah and her struggling adversary. Sarah charged the creature, wielding her rifle like a bat. The nagen drew his sword.
“Stop!” Cyrus shouted.
He desperately tried to cover ground. Sarah chopped at the creature’s armored head. The nagen was slow. He took the blow clean across the helmet but did not fall. Instead, he lashed out with a backhanded counter strike that cut Sarah’s rifle in two. She leaped back. The nagen followed. Cyrus could not lose Sarah. He bounded through the bushes and tackled the demon to the ground. The two rolled and twisted on the muddy earth. Somehow the nagen ended up on top, straddling Cyrus’ chest. Warm, dark blood covered Cyrus’ armored body. The creature grasped for his sword. Cyrus clung to his wrist. The villain punched him in the face. The blows held little spirit. The nagen was bleeding out. Sarah grabbed the monster by the helmet and collar and pulled him off. Cyrus rolled on top of the fiend and punched the nagen three, four, five times in his steel faceplate. The creature grew limp, then ceased to struggle. Blood pooled around his long, slender frame.
“What is this? What’s happening?” a villager shouted.
Children began to weep.
“Quick,” Sarah said, lifting Cyrus off of the corpse.
The prisoners shrieked and screamed. Cyrus and Sarah ran to Edward. They found Fibian lifting the tiny white spider from a mound of armor and sand.
“It is done, young Master,” Fibian said, “Now to free the villagers.”
Cyrus cast aside his armored top and helmet, then ran to the front of the cage.
“Sarah, is that you?” a woman cried.
They reached the gates and pulled the rickety doors open. Dr. and Mrs. Heiler burst forth through the crowd and hugged their daughter tightly.
“Oh, thank the Angels,” her mother wept. “We were so worried.”
Cyrus spied the mayor and Llysa trying to hide within the mass of bodies. His anger rose. He looked to the frightened young and reminded himself of why he was there.
“Come, everybody, to the starboard wall,” he demanded. “We must escape to the head fortress.”
The villagers stared at Cyrus, at his bloody clothes, terrified and ashamed. He looked back, his anxiety rising. He searched the treetops for spies. Then he scanned the woods for enemies.
“This is no trick,” he cried. “Think of your children. Go!”
The villagers began to press towards the exit. Then the flock of shabby black birds swooped down from above, squawking and shrieking overhead.
RUN! Gabriel said. The giant drove a vision of the Sea Zombie into Cyrus’ mind.
“No…” he breathed.
“Not ssso fast, Child Eater,” a raspy voice said.
The morning sky was growing light, and the shadows were losing strength. To his left, Rorroh stepped forward th
rough the trees. Her grey hair hung in two frayed braids from beneath her tattered hood. Cyrus’ senses electrified. He spun like a viper and drew a pistol, aiming it at the witch’s head.
“And what would that do?” the Sea Zombie asked, her torn face twisting into a savage grin.
Black oil dripped from one pitted eye.
Cyrus heard a feral hissing. He looked to Fibian. Edward stood on the froskman’s shoulder. The spider’s fur was on end, and his eyes had grown milky white. Rorroh reached into her robes and with her withered, black hand produced a stitched leather orb. The grenade leaked gaseous green vapors.
“Behave, little blodbad,” Rorroh cooed, “or it will be an early night again for you.”
Edward grew more angered. Rorroh raised her hand into the air. The woods came alive with nagen and rock klops soldiers. Cyrus counted the enemy. He estimated their odds of survival. They were dead, three times over. Curses!
“One way or another,” Rorroh said, her teeth tiny and jagged, “it all endsss here, but you have a choice, Child Eater. It can end with your immortality or their deathsss.”
Cyrus glared at the Sea Zombie, confused, his pistol still aimed at her spotted head.
“My offer still standsss,” Rorroh explained. “Join me. Claim your rightful position. Rule the seasss for all eternity at my side. All you must do is kill one of your own, one of the Angel King’s pure creationsss. Any one of them, your stepmother, the mayor, it does not matter. It is either that, or I kill them all, the ssspider, the froskman, even your little girlfriend here. What choice do you really have?”
Cyrus looked from Sarah to Fibian. Sarah looked lost and horrified. Fibian shook his head no. Cyrus turned to Edward. The tiny white spider quivered with rage and terror. He stared at the villagers. There was no escape for any of them unless Cyrus killed one of them. He looked to Llysa cowering behind an old woman. Then he turned to Hoblkalf. The bald mayor was ducking through the crowd. How was this the end? How had Cyrus lost control so quickly?
Cyrus LongBones Box Set Page 51