“Set a course southeast,for where we last spied the Battle Hune,” he said, his voice choked, “and mindtheir cannons,” he added, gesturing to the sabotaged vessel, “They may still holdpowder and lead.”
The three klops nodded,then began to scurry about the main deck.
Cyrus pulled offhis seared gloves and stared at his quivering blue hands. He forced his massivehands into thick fists. His fingers ached. His hair was singed, his furs werescorched, and his ears rang, but somehow he was alive. Despite Fibian’swarnings, he had climbed aboard General Schlaue’s vessel and had stolen Edward fromright under their noses. He had been shot at, stabbed at, and blown up, yet he wasstill alive, and Schlaue was not.
Cyrus looked overhis shoulder, to the ocean beyond. He was hunting a weaponized island, surroundedby a hostile, renegade armada armed to the gills with cannon and fire powder,and he was pursuing this treacherous fleet aboard a hijacked, defenseless ship,crewed by three backstabbing klops.
Cyrus was in overhis head. He had been lucky so far, but sooner or later his luck would run out.What if Edward had been killed in the blast? How could he ever forgive himself?It was time to turn back, cut his losses, live amongst the yeti. Who could judgehim? Who would dare stand in his way? He thought of Niels, and of Sarah.
No!
Those were the SeaZombie’s words. Those were the fears and doubts that she had sown in his mind. Cyruswould not entertain such cowardly thoughts. That was exactly what his enemywanted, what his enemy needed.
Cyrus clenchedhard his chattering teeth and buried his overwhelming fear deep within his chest.He thought of his beheading of Rorroh, and of his slaying of the froskman, Moro.He recalled the serpent, Drache, and of his warm dragon’s blood. He was not theChild Eater prophesied; he was the Dragon Eater of legend. He was the killer ofklops and the bringer of doom. These were odds that he and he alone could overcome.He would not fear what came next. What came next would fear him.
Chapter10
BREADCRUMBS
CYRUS AND EDWARD recovered from their ordeal within the captain’s quarters oftheir klops attack ship. They lay slumbering on a bed of hay, blanketed in a warmquilt of tattered furs. Against the starboard wall, an iron furnace warmed thedingy room. Cyrus’ singed clothes hung from several hooks dangling overhead,drying beside the stove’s warmth.
“Cyrus?”
Cyrus started to rousefrom a dreamless slumber.
“Cyrus?”
He rubbed his red eyesand stretched out his bruised and battered body. Edward’s voice was becomingmore distorted, more strange.
“You all right?” Cyrusasked.
His throat burnedand his voice was hoarse.
“I thought you andFibian were gone for good,” the spider said, stepping across Cyrus’ broad shoulders.
“We would never abandonyou.” Cyrus replied, groaning, as he raised himself up onto one arm, “The collisionbroke us free of Schlaue’s prow. In the confusion, we captured this ship.”
Cyrus’ face feltsunburned and his back twinged, but his body was healing, and fast. Edwardpursed his lips. The spider had developed the habit ever since the loss of hisfangs.
“What you did backthere,” he said, “you came back from the dead. You flew in out of nowhere, inthe middle of the sea, and took out an entire ship’s crew, single-handed.”
Edward lookedconfused, and a little frightened.
“What choice did Ihave?” Cyrus asked, sitting up, “I couldn’t leave you.”
“That klops blood,”Edward said, “What exactly did it do to you?”
Cyrus rose to his feet.
“It saved my life,”he said, ducking low under the cramped ceiling.
His head grewlight. He grasped a chain hanging from the wooden beams overhead and steadiedhis balance. Then he took a deep breath and cleared his groggy mind. He glancedaround at the many chests and kegs stored about the room. He twisted hisinjured back and rubbed his stiff neck. His stomach grumbled with hunger. Whenhad he last eaten? Carefully, Cyrus moved towards the iron hooks and pulled onhis dried furs.
“Your back,”Edward said, bewildered, “What happened?”
Cyrus felt wherethe splinter had pierced his body. The wound had closed as if stitched shut.Thick scabs fell away, revealing fresh scar tissue beneath.
“Smoke on the horizon,”a klops voice shouted from the quarterdeck beyond.
Cyrus finished dressing,then stepped out onto the main deck. Edward crawled within the warmth of hishood. The sky was cloudy, the day was dark and the fog had cleared. The airsmelled of ice and salt. It was early afternoon, Cyrus guessed. The ocean was choppy,yet manageable. Two klops wrestled the lines. The fat crewman manned the tiller.Fibian stood at the bow rail of the quarterdeck. The froskman’s furs were cakedwith ice. Dark circles ringed his bright blue eyes.
“There,” Fibiansaid, pointing southwest with his good arm.
Cyrus moved to thebow and searched the horizon. Sure enough, a thin thread of dark grey smokerose in the distance.
“Set a course to intercept,”Fibian ordered the helmsmen.
Cyrus crossed backto the ship’s stern.
“Get some rest,” hesaid to Fibian, climbing the quarterdeck.
“Soon,” thefroskman replied, straightening his back.
“How many days hasit been since you last slept?” Cyrus asked, “Since the yeti slave mine?”
Fibian glanced atthe enslaved klops.
“I can handlethem,” Cyrus said, ignoring the pain and fatigue. “You don’t have to watch overme.”
Fibian hesitated.
“If anything happens,”Edward said, “You’ll be the first to know.”
Reluctantly, thefroskman relinquished the quarterdeck.
“It is good to haveyou back, Master Edward,” he said.
Then he retreated somberlyinto the cabin below. Cyrus mounted the bridge deck and grasped the wheel,shoving the fat klops aside. The creature stared at Edward, huddled on Cyrus’shoulder. Then the fiend spied the blue mark on the blodbad’s back. The klops startedto quiver.
“Saltfish andwater,” Cyrus ordered.
Relieved, the helmsmanrushed down to the main deck.
“Who are they?”Edward asked apprehensively, crawling within Cyrus’ collar.
“It’s a big ship,”Cyrus replied, “We need all the help we can get. They’re what’s left of the crew.”
Edward’s fur beganto rise.
***
THE DAY WORE ON and the sky grew darker still. Around dawn, Cyrus and his mismatchedcrew approached the smoking remains of a klops attack ship. Cyrus gave thesinking vessel a wide berth. The air smelled
