Boom!
Cannon fire whistled overhead. Cyrus shookthe fog from his mind. The net was slick with sea moss and barnacles crustedthe hull. Cyrus and Fibian pulled themselves out of the clinging sea. Theyrocked and crashed against the side of the craft. Cyrus’ wet furs felt like acoat of bricks. He looked over at Fibian. The froskman too still wore his blackbear furs, but his webbed feet were bare. He had been forced to abandon hisboots in the ocean.
The shipwrecked water klops drew near, desperatelyswimming through the rough waters. Fibian motioned upwards. Cyrus ignored thestinging pain in his back and climbed with fearful purpose. If the stranded crewboarded the boat, Cyrus and Fibian would be prisoners once more. That was notgoing to happen.
Even with his lone arm, Fibian reached theship’s railing first. Cyrus clambered up beside him, his limbs still weak. Theyhad to find a way to cut the netting loose. Both peered over the rail. A large,armored batalha stood on the quarterdeck, shouting orders to his crew. A smallklops manned the tiller. Four deckhands ran about the main deck, managing theship's sails. A sword hung from the captain’s hip.
Cyrus took a desperate breath. How were theygoing to overpower the crew? If only he could get that sword. He looked to thedoor at the base of the quarterdeck. How many klops hid below deck, he wondered?
“Master Cyrus!”
Fibian’s warbled voice barely reached his earsamongst the clawing wind. The froskman nodded towards the sea. Cyrus lookedbelow. His nerves spiked. Several of the shipwrecked klops clung to the nettingbeneath. One grasped Cyrus by his bearskin boot. The fiend snarled, enraged, hisgilled neck flaring. He clenched a blade within his tiny, pointed teeth. The klopsgrasped the knife and stabbed at Cyrus’ calf. Cyrus pulled his leg upward. The creaturemissed, burying his dagger deep into the side of the hull. Cyrus kicked down withall of his might and struck the villain’s nose. The klops’ misshapen face explodedin purple blood. The creature fell backward, knocking several crewmen with himinto the sea.
Cyrus reached down and wrenched the blade fromthe hull. Fibian mounted the deck. Cyrus passed the froskman the knife, then hoistedhimself over the ledge. Fibian began to cut the netting from the rail. The ropeswere thick, but the froskman was strong. He slashed the lines away like unwantedvines. The climbing klops shrieked as they fell to the raging sea below. Two hangers-onstill clung to the edge of the ship. Cyrus’ mind became quick with desperation.He planted his feet and unleashed two hip rolling hooks. Both klops were cast backinto the freezing ocean. Cyrus searched the dark waters beyond. The founderingvillains gurgled and sputtered, struggling to keep their heads above the waves.Many vanished below the surface, fighting for breath. But klops breathe water, Cyrus thought. So why werethey drowning?
The pain in his back surged. He fell to oneknee. The water from his furs rained down at his feet. Cyrus grasped the railingand pulled himself back up. He heard a deep, guttural roar above the wind. Heturned. The captain drew his sword and shouted to his crew. Cyrus needed moretime!
“Do not move,” Fibian cried, stabbing hisknife into the ship’s rail.
The froskman put his shoulder to Cyrus’ back.Cyrus felt Fibian grasp the painful splinter in his ribs. He cringed and helddearly to the handrail.
“Do it,” he shouted, snow and seaspray stinginghis face.
With his lone hand, Fibian wrenched a bloody,foot-long stake from Cyrus’ back. Relief and agonizing pain filled Cyrus’ system.His mind grew light. Again, he fell to one knee.
The four deckhands converged on the intruders.Fibian hurled the bloody stake at the first crewman. The spike pierced theklops’ heart. The second villain drew a pistol.
“Fibian!”
Bang!
The froskman ducked the bullet. Then he lungedforward, kicking the klops hard in the throat. The scoundrel flew backward, droppinghis weapon and crashing into the foremast. He clutched his neck and writhed onthe ground as he choked to death on his crushed windpipe. Fibian grasped the fallenpistol and engaged the remaining two fiends.
The large, powerful captain lumbered towardsCyrus, sword in hand. He growled like a charging bear as he swung his blade highoverhead. Cyrus ripped Fibian’s blade from the railing. He forced all pain andfatigue from his mind. Under the weight of his heavy furs, he sprang forward,beneath the batalha’s chopping blow. He crashed into the captain’s waist and tackledhim hard to the deck. The batalha’s sword went flying. Fear fed Cyrus’ rage. Hepushed past the klops’ tree trunk legs and straddled his armored chest. Then heraised his knife high into the air. The captain bucked and threw Cyrus forward.Cyrus posted on his hands and kept his base. The dagger fell from his grip. Thecaptain rolled and struggled to gain the advantage. Cyrus wrestled him down. Thebatalha grasped the fallen blade and stabbed at Cyrus’ chest. Cyrus caught the klops’wrist and twisted.
“Gaaaah!” the batalha cried.
The weapon tumbled from the brute’s brokengrip. The captain clawed at Cyrus’ face with his good hand. Cyrus forced the batalha’sthick arm aside and clutched the villain’s head by his long, greasy mane. Cyrusgritted his teeth as he smashed the klops’ skull hard into the floor. Hethought of Tier. His rage took hold. He bounced the beast’s cranium two, three,four, five times off the moldy deck boards. The klops gurgled blood, then grew limp.
Cyrus rose up and towered over the deadcaptain. He glared at the helmsman. The smaller klops shook with fear, his facemore white than grey. The door below the quarterdeck banged open and three common-classklops emerged from the hold. They looked to Fibian. The froskman clutched abloody pistol and brooded over four dead crew. They turned to Cyrus. The Child Eaterreached down and gripped the captain by his collar and britches. Cyrus snarled ashe hoisted the burly brute high overhead. His bloody back
