On a coat rack, near the entrance, he found a fleece-lined leatherjacket and cap, and a wool scarf. The clothing was a few sizes too big but warmed him to the core.
“Cyrus, over there,” Edward said, pointing two legs towards the bookshelf.
“Holy Sea Zombie.”
Cyrus moved towards the shelf and gathered up a bow and quiver ofarrows. The belly and back of the weapon were craftedfrom dunkel wood, and the grip was bound with leather. Cyrus pulled the string.It was coarse and felt of tough hemp.
“No, Cyrus. The water skin and blanket.”
Cyrus swung the quiver and bow over his shoulder and collected a woolblanket and empty water skin from the bookshelf. But where would they findfresh water?
“Do you feel that?” Edward gasped.
The little spider curled into a ball and rolled into Cyrus’ shirtpocket. Cyrus paused. What was it he was supposed to feel? Then it happened. Astrange vibration moved up from his feet into his teeth. The hum grew into agrumbling roar.
“A cave-in!” Edward shouted.
Cyrus clutched his gear and sped towards the door. Dust and stone raineddown from spreading cracks in the ceiling. The oil paintings started to fall fromthe walls. Books and other objects crashed to the ground around Cyrus’ feet.From behind him came what sounded like giant rock biting through massive stone.
“Jump!” Edward screamed.
Cyrus leaped through the door andcrashed to the earth. A splintering boom echoed throughout the caves. Dust andstone fragments enveloped the would-be victims. Cyrus coughed and wheezed andpeered into his pocket to make sure Edward was safe.
“I’m okay?” the small spider said, “You?”
“I think so,” Cyrus answered, looking back through the haze of bone dust.
A large portion of Jim’s roof had collapsed, blocking the entrance tohis lair.
“Let’s get out of here before the rest of it caves in,” Cyrus whispered.
With his hand on the sheath of the knife, he slipped from the cave, tossedtheir gear into the boat and pushed off from the eroding fossil.
“Cyrus,” Edward said, his voice shaky.
Cyrus looked into his pocket. Hisbest friend peeked out, quivering with fear. Cyrus scanned the area. Then hesaw the cause of Edward’s concern. There were wet, webbed handprints on theboat’s mast and hull. The blue-eyed phantom.
Chapter 16
FOGGY SEAS
“NEVER MIND THAT,” Cyrussaid, “Let’s just get out of here.”
He paddled hard and fast away fromthe island, repeatedly peering over hisshoulders. His back ached with worry and dread. He kept imagining the thing fromJim’s journal springing aboard their boat.
“Which way should we head?” he asked, once he felt they were far enoughfrom shore.
“I say south,” Edward replied.
The two set a southerly course into the dwindling afternoon. In the distance, the sky flickered with lightning andrain.
“I think it’s going to pass us by,” Edward said.
As they voyaged into uncharted waters, Cyrus felt more and morehelpless. Where were they going to find food and water? What if they could notfind land? Day became night, and the sea grew calm.
Cyrus slowly began to process the events leading up to his escape.Niels, Cyrus’ brother and only true family,was gone, and it was all because Cyrushad not been strong enough to save him. Cyrus’ lone crime had been wanting toflee his stepmother and live in peace. He had told Niels about the journal and togetherthey had tried to warn the mayor. But Hoblkalf wouldnot listen. Instead, he used threats andlies in an attempt to further his own selfishschemes. When the mayor’s plan failed and caused the cave-in, he had shiftedblame to Cyrus. The villagers cheered for Cyrus’ death, never much liking him in the first place. But Sarah didnot blame him. She had saved his life. She even seemed to care for him. Still, Cyrus had been forced to escape thehangman’s noose. That is what he got for trying to help others. He would nevermake that mistake ever again.
The moon slipped behind a curtain of cloud. Cyrus’ eyes grew heavy withexhaustion. He shifted to the floor of the boat and huddled under the woolblanket. Edward curled like a tiny mouse within the warm collar of Cyrus’fleece jacket. Cyrus drifted between the sleeping world and the real. Stifledtears grew frigid on his thick eyelashes. When finally, he slumbered, hedreamed of drowning turtles and foggy seas.
THEBLUE-EYED CREATURE that clung to the hull of their craft dreamed of farmore sinister things.
Chapter 17
RORROH
CYRUS AWOKE TO THE SOUND of atolling bell. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked about. It was still night.The air was thick with a green fog that smelled of some sort of burning weed. Maybe seaweed, he thought. Cyrus’ throattightened. He began to cough.
“Edward, you awake?”
“I don’t feel good,” the spider said, coughing.
Cyrus searched his clothing and found his best friend balled up in hisshirt pocket.
“Hold on; I’ll try to get us outof here?” Cyrus said, gently petting Edward’s back.
The ringing of the bell grew nearer. Cyrus worried they might collidewith its source. Clumsily, he lit the lantern and held it to the sky. At first,he saw nothing. Then out of the haze loomed a sailing ship. The boat was fiftytimes larger than their craft, and instead of two sails, it had over ten. Thesheets hung ragged and stained from three towering masts.
The craft was on a collision course. Cyrus grabbed an oar to paddleclear. Dizzy from the smoke, he let the pole slip through his fingers. The shipcoasted into their boat and skirted it aside like driftwood. Alongside the oilyvessel, a mesh of rope hung from the top deck.
“Ssseizeit,” a distant voice whispered.
Possessed by an overpowering urge, Cyrus reached out and grabbed thethick net. What just happened, hewondered, staring at his gripping hand. The deck boards groaned from above. Ahooded silhouette peered over the edge. Cyrus held the lantern high. The lightreflected off two dark eyes beneath the soiled hood.
“Ssssss…”
The stranger seemed to taste the air.
“A child, how sssweet,” said ahigh-pitched voice.
Cyrus heard phlegm rattle in the creature’s windpipe, but not whether itwas man or woman. He felt he should flee, but his thoughts swam within
