“He more than hates the Warrior Witch,” Fibiancalled down, “He wants revenge. Revengethat only you can achieve.”
“He’ll risk his life for us?” Edward asked, the wind blowing his furtight to his round face.
“Long ago, the Warrior Witch ordered the two-headed beast to patrol theborders of the Northern Sea,” Fibian said,” To watchfor anyone trying to escape your island. The dragon’s other half, Kravel, agreed to the charge, but Drache,feeling it beneath him, refused. He turned on both Kraveland the witch. He bit off his other head and swallowed the Warrior Witch whole.That is when he learned of the witch’s immortality,” the froskman’s voice grew bleak, “For his insubordination,she took what was dearest to him. She extinguished his belly’s hellfire for alleternity.”
“She told you this?” Edward asked.
“The witch made sure all in her armies knew of the dragon’s treacheryand punishment.”
“He bit off his own head?” Cyrussaid.
He began to feel weak. He had to get down, away from this place. This was madness!
“We have to turn back,” he said, reaching below with one foot.
“Cyrus, what are you doing?” Edward asked, “You’ve gone all white.”
“Do not move, young Master,” Fibian called down,“I will come to you.”
“We have to find another way,” Cyrus said, the welt on his side aching.
He looked down, trying to guide his foot to the next hold. He saw theirboat far, far below. It looked like a toy bobbing on the sea. Butterfliesswarmed his belly. He dared not look below again. He reached out with his rightleg, probing the stone. He felt nothing. His arms were growing stiff. He had nochoice. He ventured another peek. Several gulls circled the mountain beneathhim, squawking and bickering. He lost all equilibrium. I can’t climb down,he thought, his cheek pressed against thecold stone. I can’t make it to the top either. His entire body wasflexed, trying to adhere to the mountain.
“Cyrus, breathe,” Edward cried.
“I am coming, young Master,” Fibian shouted.
A fierce desperation grew in Cyrus’belly. His vision began to close in from all directions.
“Breathe!” Edward screamed.
Cyrus was losing his hold on the rock. He tried with all his might toregain his grip. His arms and legs would not respond. He watched as his handsslipped and the damp stone fell away. He did not care. He was happy to relax finally. He felt his stomach shrink ashe plummeted to the ocean. Then he was swallowed by a cozy, warm dream.
Chapter 22
THE HIMMEL HORN
CYRUS AWOKE TO A SHARP stabbingsensation in his ribs. He opened his eyes. A large wash of grey lay before him.He felt movement. His blood ran cold in his veins. Cyrus’ eyes started tofocus. He no longer smelled the sea. A large gull circled past, squawking.Finally, his surroundings became clear. He was climbing back down the mountain,away from the ceiling of cloud far above. But where was his fleece cap? And whywas his hair on end?
“Holy Sea Zombie!” he gasped.
He was upside down. His breath shot out in steamy puffs. He began tosquirm. An iron grip held him tight around the waist.
“Cyrus, you’re awake,” Edward said, “Thank the Angels.”
Cyrus felt the tiny spider crawlingalong his neck.
“Careful, young Master,” Fibian said, “We arenearing the mountaintop. We must keep quiet.The dragon will not appreciate our company. Not until I have explained to himour situation and offered our deal.”
Cyrus’ bearings adjusted. He was slumped over Fibian’sshoulder, thousands of feet above the sea, while the froskmancontinued his climb up the sheer, rock face.
Cyrus felt humiliated. He had lost his nerve, panicked; then fainted.All with Edward clinging to his jacket. The fall would have killed them both.Why had Fibian made him make this climb? Clearly,Cyrus was not strong enough, mentally or physically. A wave of shame and angerpassed over him.
“We are here,” Fibian said.
Cyrus was carried over a ledge;then laid on the ground. He put a hand to his injured side. The scabs on his ribs were bleeding. He smelled dung and rot.He looked about. They were sat on acliff, with several step-like stone outcrops leading further up the peak.
“Cyrus, you okay?” Edward asked.
The spider crawled down the sleeve of his jacket.
“I could have killed us both,” Cyrus said, fighting back tears, “And I’m supposed to be some savior? This is ridiculous. That dragon’s going to takeone look at me and kill us all.”
“You did well, young Master,” Fibian said.
He placed Cyrus’ cap back on his head and handed him the coiled rope.
“There was a reason we were joined by rope, because of that very likelyoutcome. But you found the courage to climb. And climb you did. You made itmuch farther than I would have expected.”
“You knew he would fall?” Edward blurted.
“Keep your voice down, little one,” Fibianwarned, his blue eyes glowing bright.
“You knew he would, and still youmade him climb?” Edward seethed, through bone white teeth.
“As I said, we had no choice. Hehad to climb as much as he could himself,for next time I might not be there to catch him.”
Edward’s eyes smoldered with hate. Fibianpassed Cyrus the skin of water but kept thebow and quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. The froskmansniffed the air.
“Come, the dragon’s den is near.”
Cyrus took a deep swallow from theskin; then poured a little water into his hand for Edward. The small spidertook several sips.
“I don’t trust him,” Edward whispered, “We should get away from him.”
“I know,” Cyrus whispered back, “But we have to go along with this alittle longer because I’m not climbingback down that mountain.”
“Is going to meet with a dragon any better?” Edward asked.
Cyrus did not have an answer to that. He placed the spider on hisshoulder and followed the froskman up the stony steps.
The mountain was frigid and desolate, the coal-colored granite covered in what looked like gull droppings.Here and there Cyrus discovered the odd bone or ribcagescattered along the path. He spied a skull he swore was the remains of somemassive pig with tusks. His guts twisted and his knees grew numb.
As they reached the top of the awkward, zigzagging steps, Cyrus saw alarge,
