Sentries stared dumbfoundedat their admiral and his escorts as they walked the length of the battlements. Cyrusstared at the cowardly klops with disdain. How was he to defeat the Sea Zombiewith a crew so pathetic?
After their long trekthey approached the aft bridge deck. The small bridge crew panicked and reachedfor their weapons.
“Stand down!”Knavish ordered.
The officers froze,staring about frightened and confused.
“Admiral?” a skinnycommunications officer asked.
“You will understandsoon enough,” Knavish replied.
Cyrus pushed theklops aside and mounted the deck. The wooden structure was practically a mirrorimage of the fore bridge. Edward stood on Fibian’s shoulder, glaring at the quakingcrew.
The fore bridge’sstarboard lookout came running down the rampart.
“Your arm, Sir,”the small klops said.
The runner kneltbefore Fibian, his head bowed. He presented the froskman with his copper andleather limb.
“Thank you,” Fibiansaid, taking the arm.
Edward hissed low.The sniveling klops scurried backward. Fibian fit the contraption to his forearm,tightening the leather straps and pumping the metal lever. The cables quivered.The steel pincers snapped open, then shut. A subtle grin spread across the froskman’slean face.
Cyrus settled intothe captain’s chair, his rifle by his side. He stared across the water at the tailfortress. He studied the shoreline, the woods, the steel defenses. Who was incharge beyond that wall? Was the crew aware of their new leader?
Knavish stood sullenlyto Cyrus’ right. The meager bridge crew looked about, terrified, unsure of whatto do next. The halfbreed blodbad skittered over the steel railings and dangledfrom the wooden beams.
Out to sea, theflock of ragged black birds enveloped the enemy fleet. A single strange longshipbroke off from the blockade. The waters grew calm with the coming morning. Underoar power, the vessel found shelter from the wind off the hune’s port side, betweenthe two islands. Then a boarding party launched a small skiff from the ship,rowing towards the head fortress. Was Rorroh aboard that boat? Was that even possible?Cyrus had cut off her head and both hands…
“Alert the tail fortressand both lines,” Cyrus ordered. “Be on the lookout for a surprise attack. I wantregular reports from each and every sentry post.”
The signal klopswaved a single torch down the starboard wall, then two torches down the port side.Finally, he alerted the aft fortress.
“What is this?” adeep, angry klops voice cried.
Cyrus looked overhis shoulder, towards the icy forest beyond. Ten batalha marched out of a snowytrail, armed with swords and rifles.
“I did not desertmy Master for a coward leader,” a large batalha shouted, “and I will not servea strangeling.”
“Deal with this,”Cyrus ordered, turning his back to observe the approaching landing party.
“Stand down, SergeantMerke,” Knavish shouted, “Things are not what they seem. The Trollman approaches.”
The tall hunch-backedadmiral pointed out to sea. The sergeant stared back confused, his underbite accentuatinghis dim expression.
“Have a look foryourself, Sergeant,” Fibian said, inviting the big klops up onto the bridge deck.
Merke lumbered towardsthe platform and mounted the stairs.
Cyrus rose from hischair and walked to the steel wall. He set his rifle against the waist-high parapetand beckoned the spotter for his scope. The creature quivered as he handed overthe glass. Cyrus peered through the instrument and inspected the small rowboatas it approached. There were four shapes aboard the craft. One rower and threepassengers. Sergeant Merke stepped onto the deck.
“How do we know thatthat is truly the Trollman?” the sergeant asked.
Cyrus handed backthe spyglass.
“And why does thatchange anything?” Merke continued, aiming his rifle at Cyrus’ head.
“You asked what allthis is,” Cyrus said, staring him straight in the uneven eyes. “This is a hijacking.You learn to serve strangelings, or you die.”
The batalhasneered and cocked his weapon. Cyrus nodded towards the rifle’s barrel. Merkeglanced down at his gun. Three blodbad sat crouched on the barrel’s steel, readyto pounce.
“Ahh!”
Merke dropped the weapon.The rifle hit the deck.
Bang!
The bullet ricochetedoff of the wall’s interior and buried itself in a wooden beam.
“Do you understandnow?” Knavish asked, angered and annoyed.
The sergeant saidnothing. He just searched his body for more of the black, hairy spiders.
Chapter16
THE TROLLMAN APPROACHES
“SERGEANT MERKE,” Fibian said coolly,collecting the spent rifle off of the floor, “as long as you and your troopobey, your lives will be spared.”
Cyrus turned hisback on the brute. There was no time for petty squabbling. The Sea Zombie approached.
The rowboat surfedthe waves onto the hard, tiled beach. The moment the boat struck land, Cyrusfelt Gabriel’s apprehension rise.
“It’s okay,” hewhispered, trying to sooth the giant.
Gabriel’s fear enflamedhis own sense of dread and unease. He fought to suppress the hune’s terror. Cyruscould show no weakness at a time like this.
A greenish-grey creature,as big as a batalha, leaped out of the boat and negotiated the barnacledshoreline. An iron sword hung across his broad back. His thickly muscled arms swelledas he hauled the craft ashore. The soldier’s skin was scaly and cracked like hard,calloused feet. His grotesque facial features were shrouded behind an iron helmetand braided white beard. A heavy fur vest covered his chest. Coarse hide britcheswarmed his legs.
“Rock klops,” Knavishsneered.
A tall, slendercreature, dressed in silk and steel armor, stood at the bow of the skiff. The guardheld a long, bladed staff and carried an air of menacing contempt. Beside himsat another of the burly, bearded rock klops.
A passenger cloakedin dark robes rose from the stern of the vessel. Cyrus recognized her movementsimmediately. Rorroh... Cold oil pooledin his guts. What was left of her beneath that cloak?
The large oarsmanhelped Rorroh slowly out of the boat. Then he escorted the frail-looking hag upthe beach, towards the wall. The remaining two guards leaped out of the craft andtook up positions at their master’s side.
Rorroh’s witheredleft hand dangled from her tattered sleeve. Whatwitchcraft is this, Cyrus thought? He had cleaved that limb from her bodymonths ago. She drew back her hood from her shrouded face. Cyrus’ body flushed withwhite-hot terror. There stood the Sea Zombie, emaciated and sneering. The oily,black eyes, the torn cheek, the wooden costume nose. It was as if their battle withinthe klappen fortress had never happened.
Fibian stepped towardsCyrus. Cyrus took a deep breath, mastering his nerves. You are the slayer of queens
