The interlopers carriedon towards the center of the island. Cyrus began to smell a fishy, manure stink.Lights started to flicker beyond the dark woods. The froskman’s eyes becamedull. Edward hissed. The army of blodbad grew silent. Cyrus and Fibian crept alongthe path until they reached the source of the torchlights. They took cover behinda thick thorn bush and spied a small klops barracks through a stand of trees.
Large leather andwood tents littered a recently cut clearing. Many of the big, tusked boars snoredand snorted in frosty makeshift mud pens. Near the stinking beasts, the klopshad thrown up a dozen or so leather shelters to hang their many silver-scaledfish. Wooden barrels stood scattered throughout the settlement open to the skyto collect snow and rain. The klops used the reservoirs for drinking water,Cyrus suspected.
A ring of torches markedthe garrison’s boundary line. Cyrus searched the edge of the clearing for anothertrail leading to the battlement’s fore wall. A cook fire burned in the centerof the camp. Two klops roasted a boar’s leg over the flickering flames.
“There is afootpath several yards ahead,” Fibian whispered, “along the southern perimeter.”
“Can we reach it unseen?”Cyrus asked.
“Don’t worry aboutthose two,” Edward said.
Cyrus and Fibian sharedconfused looks; then both pressed forward along the camp’s western verge. Slowly,the footpath revealed itself in the darkness. Cyrus prayed that their blackfurs would camouflage their movements against the shadowy night.
“Who goes there?”
Cyrus fought the urgeto flinch. A small, bent creature stepped from the trees. The klops held a poison-tippedspear at the ready. Cyrus grasped his dagger from his belt. The blade struck thefiend's forehead. The klops struggled to scream. A second knife protruded fromhis windpipe. He fell to the earth, clawing at his neck. Cyrus turned to Fibian.The froskman stepped forward and retrieved his weapon from the dead scoundrel’sthroat. The two guards looked up from their fire.
“Garb, what you doin’?”one asked, “Drink too much did ya?”
When Garb did notrespond, both rose to take a closer look. From Fibian’s shoulder, Edward hissedinto the night.
“Ouch!”
“What in!”
The villains grabbedtheir ankles. Then the pair became charred clumps of coal within their tumbledarmor.
“Well done, MasterEdward,” Fibian whispered.
The froskman sheathedhis blade and ducked into the darkened footpath. Cyrus stepped forward and drewhis dagger from the dead guard’s skull. He wiped the knife off on his furs and peeredover his shoulder. The horde of blodbad started to click and pop at his flanks.Cyrus’ flesh crawled as he pressed into the forest.
They trekked cautiouslythrough the twisted trees, their senses charged. A feral cat, hunting rats, hissedfrom the high branches. Then a wild pig snorted somewhere out in the woods. Thethree intruders delved deeper into the night and discovered two more frozen klopslying face down along the edge of the trail. Both had poisoned knives buried inthe bases of their necks. Rats chewed at their frigid fingers.
“What they deserved,”Cyrus whispered.
They continued on throughthe dark forest in silence. How far did this trail lead? Cyrus wondered. Suddenly,he heard several klops voices up ahead. Torchlights started to filter through thewoods. Fibian’s eyes dulled. He and Cyrus ducked low and leaped from the path.They took cover behind a broad tree trunk. Cyrus peered from behind the trunk andventured a look.
Beyond the forest’sedge stood the steel fortification, yet this portion of the wall was taller, sterner.The armored battlements were similar to the port side defenses, but the woodenstructure built within was three times the size of the sentry post before. Bothgun stations below were complete with twin cannons. Two-person gun teams mannedthe artillery, awaiting orders.
Cyrus’ heart poundedwith uncertainty and the desire for revenge. He spied the hunched shape ofKnavish slouched in a large captain’s chair, beneath the steel roof of the woodenbridge deck.
“Admiral Knavish,no enemy contact from either the starboard defenses nor the aft fortress,” asmall klops said, standing on the wooden walkway to Knavish’s right.
The creaturelooked down the length of the starboard wall through what looked to be a yeti-madespyglass.
“We’re getting incompletereports from the port side wall, Sir,” a klops said, standing on the rampart toKnavishes left.
He too peered intoa leather and copper scope.
“Signal them again,”Knavish ordered, “I want to know what the confusion is about.”
A third klops drewtwo torches from an iron drum mounted to the parapet. He signaled the port sidesentry posts. The creature swirled the torches in the air, then slashed themthrough the night. One after the other, the lights further along the wall beganto repeat the pattern. Then the pattern changed.
“There’s a cannon,mid port side, not responding,” the spyglass klops replied.
“I want a squadthere now,” Knavish demanded.
A large, palebatalha, standing next to Knavish, kicked something at his feet.
“To the barracks,”the brute ordered.
“Right away, ChiefSauer,” a small klops yelped, leaping up from the bridge deck.
The runner scrambled,stumbling, down the wooden steps.
An overwhelmingdread filled Cyrus’ stomach. How would they navigate, or even defend the gianthune, Gabriel, without a crew?
Fibian raised his rifle.Cyrus grasped the froskman’s barrel.
“We need them alive,”he whispered.
“It is too risky,young Master,” Fibian replied, “They are backstabbers.”
“We can’t defendthe hune without them,” Cyrus argued.
“When you lie withrats, you die with rats,” Fibian countered, his expression grave.
“We have no choice,”Cyrus said, stepping from behind the tree, “Edward, the gunners.”
The runner dashedacross the barren shell, onto the snowy grass. Like a shadowy demon, Cyrusmarched through the murk and raised his gun. The klops sensed something and hesitated.
Bang!
The lead round sparkedas it punched a hole through the klops’ iron helmet. The runner fell dead. Theofficers on the bridge turned, drawing their pistols.
“Put your weaponsdown, now!” Cyrus ordered.
His voice was deep,bold, and booming, and betrayed none of his trepidation. He stepped into the torchlight.His smoking rifle rested over his thick shoulder. Fibian defended his flank, hisweapon aimed high.
“Ah, the Child Eaterand his pet,” Knavish said, swiveling in his chair, “You are out-manned and out-gunned.It is you who should put your weapons down.”
“Edward,” Cyrussaid.
The spider hissed fromFibian’s shoulder. The two gun teams jumped as if shocked. Then they fell fromtheir stations and crumbled to coal. Confused,
