Evil spidersin Hekswood Forest? Cyrusthought. Is that where the fear of the woods came from?
Fibian shifted in his seat.
“For many years the two armies battleduntil finally, they killed each other off, and the blodbadbecame no more. You must have only been a baby.”
He nodded to where Edward’s eighth limb had once grown.
“That is probably how you lostyour leg, defenseless in the middle of a fight. You are the last known heir toKing Fedor, the very first of your kind.”
“Are you saying that I’m evil?” Edward asked, “Are you saying that I’mthe enemy?”
“No, Master spider, no more than I,” Fibianreplied.
Cyrus peered down at his best friend as if he were a stranger. Edward, apoisonous killer? The tiny spider looked so frightened and alone.
Fibian turned to Cyrus.
“I have no home, no friends, andno family, but I can help you escape to freedom. I am a froskman,which means I am a fierce warrior, stealthy hunter, and a loyal comrade. All I ask for in return for my services isyour company and friendship.”
Cyrus looked to Edward. The spiderlooked shaken and unsure.
“You can help us find safety, somewhere Rorrohwill never reach us?” Cyrus asked.
“I doubt that,” Fibian said, “Make no mistake,one day you will have to face her. You are the only one that can. But in the meantime,I can help you escape to a safe refuge where you can buy time, ready yourselffor the inevitable battle.”
Cyrus considered that for a moment. Fibian hadclearly gone mad in his years of isolation,but he decided to humor the froskman a little whilelonger. He had been clever enough to rescue them from Rorroh.
“We accept.”
“A choice you will not regret,” Fibian said, asubtle smile exposing his ivory teeth.
“What about the rest of the island?” Edward asked, his voice shaky.
“My village?” Cyrus replied, “They wouldn’t believe a word of this. Andeven if they did, they tried to murder me. I’m not risking my neck for them.”
“You will,” Fibian said, “It is the only wayyou and yours can survive.”
“How do we escape these islands?” Edward asked, his eyes downcast.
“There is a creature so wicked and spiteful that he may want to help usescape, if in return we destroy the Warrior Witch,” Fibianreplied.
“Wicked and spiteful?” Cyrus asked, his breath quickening.
“We must sail to the Himmel Garde,” Fibian nodded,“We must seek out the dragon.”
Chapter 21
THE HIMMEL GARDE
DRAGONS WERE NOT REAL, Cyrusthought. They were monsters in children’s stories, made up to keep you fromventuring over the Dead Fence. But what if the two-headed giant was real? Seekinghim out would be suicide. They should take their chances and sail south, try tofind a safe route through the perimeter islands.
Fibian argued it was suicide toattempt to escape past wretched water klops, giantwolves and grotesque mermaids loyal to Rorroh. Theydebated back and forth for hours. Finally, Cyrus had conceded, and five dayslater, on a frigid, northeasterly wind, the threesome reached the base of theHimmel Garde’s towering lair.
The slender tusk-like mountain punctured the sea and pierced theheavens. Once, it had been a vein of molten rock that coursed through thethroat of a mighty volcano. The giant had long died out and crumbled into theocean, leaving the tempered horn of magma as its heir.
Cyrus awoke as the glow beyond the horizon began to warm the morningsky. He ate tidal nuts and drank rainwater from the canteen. If it had not beenfor Fibian’s ability to breathe underwater and gather food, he and Edward wouldhave died days ago.
“How are we going to get to the top of that thing?” Cyrus asked, searchingfor a path up the sheer, rock face.
Edward crept hesitantly from Cyrus’ jacket pocket. He had not been himselfsince learning of his familial past.
“We climb,” Fibian said, his eyes glowing asoft blue.
A brisk, salty wind swept the boat, raising goosebumps on Cyrus’ flesh.
“I can’t climb that,” he blurted.
“It is quite simple,” Fibian replied, “I willshow you.”
“No. No way. That’s insane. It’s thousands of feet,” Cyrus argued.
“There is nowhere else to turn, young Master. We are surrounded by would-be killers and assassins. If you want toescape these islands, you must face the rock, or you must face sure death.”
* * *
AS CYRUS CLUNG TO THE ROCK FACE,his knees shook and his biceps burned.
“Keep your body close to the wall,” Fibiancalled down.
The froskman made the climb look effortless,even with the bow and arrows slung over his back.
“Don’t look down,” Edward said, from Cyrus’ shoulder.
Cyrus peered between his legs and saw their empty craft bobbing on thewaves hundreds of feet below. How had he come this far? How could he go any further?He would surely fall at any moment. He had to get down from this place! He remindedhimself that he was tied to Fibian’s waist. His eyes studied the rope secured aroundhis own midsection, then followed theline up to the froskman above. What if Fibian fell? That seemed unlikely. The dark creature scaledthe sheer, black mass as if weightless, his long limbs and delicate fingersnavigating the surface with cat-like grace. Still,there was always a chance…
“Keep moving,” Fibian shouted, over thebuffeting wind,” You are gripping too tight. Keep your arms straight and relaxedand carry your weight in your legs.”
Remembering what the froskman had told him,Cyrus kept three points of contact with the rock at all times. He placed hishands and feet where Fibian’s had been and moved onelimb at a time. He stood on a three-inch ledge;his hands jammed into a salty, horizontal crack. Cyrus began to sweatbeneath his fleece cap. What if the dragon realized Fibianwas insane? What if he discovered Cyrus was not the person from the legend?
“One step at a time,” Edward said, trying to encourage him.
Was Edward really a poisonousmonster, Cyrus thought? What if the blodbad turned onhim? Cyrus was completely vulnerable dangling on the side of a mountain. Forthe hundredth time, he was regretting his decision.
“Just because this dragon hates his master, you really think
