“How is she your maker?”
The froskman pausedas if reflecting inward.
“In the beginning, the Angel King created the sea and everything in it,but he also created Angels to join him in this task. Your people speak of this,correct?”
Cyrus nodded, guiding the tiller.
“What you may not know is that the first Angel evercreated was named Rorroh,” Fibian’s eyes flashed brightly as he spoke the name,“Rorroh was the most beautiful and powerful of all the King’s creations, andshe loved her King more than anything, even her own beauty,” his expressionbecame grim, “You see, Rorroh grew vain, and when she was not at his side, itis said that she would spend long hours admiring her reflection in the ocean.”
Fibian took a large swallow from the skin.
“It is said that one day the Angel King created a vast kingdom, andordered his Angels to leave the heavens and serve all the beings of this new realm.But Rorroh, unable to live without her King, beggedto stay. How could he send an Angel as beautiful as she off to serve creaturesso weak and unworthy? The Angel King scolded her for her vanity and pride and ordered her away with the others. Feeling abandoned, Rorroh’slove turned to hate, and she planned analternative course of action. One of murder and revenge.”
Rain started to fall in sheets, wrapping like thousands of fingers onthe wet crew.
“She took counsel with Mor Hav, Mother Ocean.”
“You mean the sea itself?” Edward asked.
“Herself, yes,” Fibian corrected, sippingagain from the skin, “Together they made a pact. Rorrohbegan to create an army of monsters, which she hid in MorHav’s belly. When the time was right, Rorroh planned to unleash her hordes and destroy all the King’screations, leaving only her armies to rule the sea. In return for Mor Hav’s help, Rorroh promised her a kingdom of her own, but Mor Hav is a fickle mistress, andshe double-crossed Rorroh,telling the King all.”
The wind began to pick up, causing the mainsail to flap and whip at therain.
“The King then came to his most beautiful and powerful of creations andbanished her from the heavens forever, cursing her to wander the seas, the mostwretched and diseased creature imaginable.”
“Why would the Angel King allow this?” Cyrus asked, pulling his coattight, “Why would he let that thing haunt my people?”
Fibian took another drink from thewater skin, then handed it back.
“It is said that before Rorroh was banished,she dared the King to put his kingdom to the test. She said that if he let herand her armies wander the seas for one hundred thousand years, she would turnhis creation of goodness and beauty into a wasteland of wickedness and evil.The King, wanting to show Rorroh the error of herways, agreed to the unlikely terms.”
Cyrus and Edward exchanged confused looks.
“I tell you this because I was one of Rorroh’ssoldiers, hidden in the murk of Mor Hav’s belly. When I wasawoken, I was raised from the deep, given the rank of corporal andcharged with the duty of guarding the island prison. That is, of course, yourisland of Virkelot, Master Cyrus.”
“My island, a prison?” Cyrus asked.
“Yes,” Fibian replied, “It was my job to makesure no one ever escaped your shores.”
“Why did you become a traitor?” Edward said, his eyes narrow as he crouchedon Cyrus’ shoulder.
“Over the centuries, I grew lonely and weary of my post, until one day aman named Jim came to my island. I was so grateful for the company that I didnot try to stop him. He was a kind and gentle soul, and I felt a sort of kinship towards him. It was watching him andhis love of the sea and its creatures that made me question my ways.”
Fibian slouched in his seat.
“When he died, I felt a great emptiness. Then, years later, you camealong, Master Cyrus. You reminded me so much of Jim and my heart filled withjoy. Then your brother drowned, and I felt a great loss for you. And when you escapedthe island prison, I grew worried. Finally, when Rorroh captured you, I knew I had to help.”
“Why is no one allowed to leave my island?” Cyrus asked, securing themainsheet.
“Long ago,” Fibian said, “The Warrior Witchtold me of a prophecy. She told me that a savior would rise up from the most unlikely of places, destroyher armies and scatter her ashes to the sea. I think Rorrohbelieves that that savior will come from your people.”
“My people, why?” Cyrus asked.
“I was only the second line of defense,” Fibianexplained, “Your home is surrounded bymany other islands, full of monstrosities waiting to trap and kill anythingthat nears their shores.”
“Why would she go to such trouble,” Edward asked, “Why not just kill theentire village if they’re such a threat?”
“I believe she has a more devious plan in store for your people,” Fibian said.
Worse than murder? Cyrusthought. Well, maybe they deserved it. Ifit were up to them, he would be dead and buried. Then he thought of Sarah, ofher soft smell and cautious smile. He pushed the thought from his mind. Whatcould he do? He could barely save himself.
“So, we’re escaped prisoners?” Edward asked.
“I am afraid so,” Fibian replied, “and it isworse than that. I think the Warrior Witch may believe that young Master Cyrushere is that very savior.”
“Why would she think that?” Cyrus asked, almost laughing.
“Because that is what I believe,” Fibian said,matter-of-factly, “You are not like the rest. Your hair, your ears, yourcourage, and there is something else…”
Courage? Cyrus thought. Was Fibian making a joke? He did not appear to be joking. Washe insane?
“She will not stop her hunt until we are all destroyed,” Fibian concluded.
Cyrus swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the realization that they werefugitives, hunted by a demon witch.
“She called me a blodbad spider, poisonous andhostile,” Edward asked, “Why?”
“You know that yellow mark on your back?” the froskmansaid, “It is the mark of a blodbad spider. You comefrom a long line of the most powerful and evil creatures the Warrior Witch evercreated.”
Edward’s mouth began to tremble, andhis eyes grew wide.
“They were the guardians of the Dead Fence, the first line of defense.If any
