“What are you doing?”Fibian asked.
The froskman crouchedon the deck, beside the port side rail. Edward stared, confused, from his shoulder.
“You’ll get back inthat boat if you know what’s good for you,” Cyrus replied.
He dashed to the railand scrambled down the mesh rope. Fibian quickly followed. The rowboat bobbedand bumped below, against the hull of the ship. The three adventurers climbed aboardand pushed off to sea.
“What was that allabout?” Edward whispered.
Cyrus slashed the mooringlines.
“The sentries willspot our approach,” Fibian warned, “We will be blown from the water before weeven step foot on the hune.”
Cyrus ignored hiscompanions and shifted to the center of the craft. He began to row southeast, distancinghimself from the coming blast. He took care to mask their position, staying justbeyond the glow of the wall’s torch lights.
Reckless and arrogant?Cyrus thought. He would show Fibian and Edward what reckless and arrogant trulylooked like. He would also show them how to take that hune.
Chapter12
SOMETHING WAITS
CYRUS, FIBIAN AND EDWARD coasted in silence off of the Battle Hune’sport side. Cyrus could just make out the island’s snowy silhouette in the inkynight. He realized that there was not just one wall, but two. In front of themlay the giant’s head island, fortified by a relatively small perimeter wall. Twothousand yards off their starboard bow loomed the bulk of the hune’s shell. A muchbroader wall of steel defended the tail island. Cyrus decided to infiltrate thehead fortress. That is where Knavish would be hiding. That is where he would beleading his crew. That is where Cyrus would take his revenge.
He searched the seafor their doomed vessel. It drifted like a shadowy, ghost ship, several hundredyards off of their starboard. He saw Fibian and Edward exchange dubious glances.They did not trust him any more, but that did not matter. He did not need theirtrust. He would show them.
Cyrus took therope and grapple from Fibian and inspected the hook’s iron.
“Brittle klopsblacksmithing,” he murmured.
He shoved deep thefear welling in his mind.
“I don’t likethis,” Edward growled, scurrying across Fibian’s shoulder. “What are we doing here?This is suicide.”
A ridge of white furrose up the spider’s back. Cyrus imagined the many cannons poking out of thefore and aft defenses. The two fortresses would be undermanned, he figured, hehoped. Cold sweat ran down his neck. He prayed his plan would work.
Ka-booom!
Off their starboard,a raging fireball erupted over the sea. The blast rose high into the sky, illuminatingthe damaged klops battleship below. Wood and debris rained down on thesurrounding ocean. The aft of the vessel had suffered the same fate as General Schlaue’sship, only worse. Fibian and Edward stared at the wreckage, dumbstruck. Thenthe froskman turned to Cyrus, appalled.
“The klops. You lockedthem below deck?”
“They would havegiven away our position,” Cyrus said, evenly. “They murdered yeti. It was theleast they deserved.”
“When you killwithout honor,” Fibian countered, “it is yourself you disgrace.”
Cyrus smirked. Hecould not hide his contempt any longer. Fibian had grown too old, too weak forthis type of task.
Cyrus spied movementon the hune’s fore and aft defenses. Shiny metallic forms moved off the walls. Allattention now would be on the flaming ship. Cyrus’ senses prickled. He began torow with all his might for the head island.
Boom!
The Battle Hune’saft fortress fired its first defensive round. The projectile came up short,striking the sea yards from the attack ship’s prow.
Cyrus heaved withall of his might. His back ached, but they had to make landfall, and quickly. Heglanced over his shoulder at the cliffs of the head fortress. He could see thewall clearly now. The cannons had yet to emerge from their wall hatches.
“There’s somethingon the island,” Edward warned, “waiting for us.”
Boom!
Cyrus looked tohis left. The second shot was a direct hit. It crashed through the bow of the ship’shull. The vessel began to sink. There was no turning back.
Cyrus, Fibian andEdward rode the rolling waves towards the steep shore of the head island. Cyrusstood at the rowboat’s bow and hurled the grappling hook up towards the icy plateau.The grapple clanged and clattered down the side of the giant’s head. If the hookfailed, they would be dashed against the cliffside. It caught on a tiled crag.
The waves smashedthe landing craft against the island’s barnacled shell. Cyrus and Fibian leapedfrom the skiff, their rifles slung over their shoulders. They struck the cliff andclung to the twisting rope. The hook held. Thankthe Angels!
Hand over fist,Cyrus climbed the creaking, hemp rope. With one hand, Fibian effortlessly followed.Two-thirds of the way to the top, they reached the grappling hook’s point ofpurchase. The end of the line. Cyrus recalled the Himmel Horn and the cliffs ofthe klappen stronghold. He stuffed his gloves into his collar and gripped thenaked tiles with his gnarled bare hands. The island’s frigid surface felt strong,somehow alive. Cyrus smelled something familiar, yet strange, like the scent ofa childhood blanket, long forgotten.
A bizarre sensationovercame him. He became racked with sorrow and sickness. He felt another mind,another soul. He sensed overwhelming dread and loneliness. The ancient spirit reachedout and touched his heart, his soul. A deep heat filled his chest. The emotionsshifted to bewilderment. Cyrus flooded with love and relief. The mind probedfurther. Cyrus found himself running through all the moments of his life, likeskimming through a book. The other concentratedon the collapse of Cyrus’ village and the death of his brother. Then it skippedahead to the klappen island and his battle with Rorroh. Finally, it siftedthrough his memories of Tier’s murder, his vengeful klops massacre, and his slaughterof Moro. The ailing spirit grew mournful and weary and drew away.
“Gabriel…” Cyruswhispered.
The living hune,Gabriel, was truly real.
Cyrus fell out ofhis waking dream. Then he smelled the grimy salt of the wintry sea air. Helooked about and found himself clinging to the cold, tiled cliffside of the hune’scrown. Thick tears ran down his face. The ocean washed and frothed below. Fibianscaled the cliff and rose up next to him.
“We must move, youngMaster, “Fibian whispered.
The froskman’seyes were ablaze, searching Cyrus’ face. Cyrus looked to Edward,
