“What’s that smell?” Edward asked.
The tiny spider clung to Cyrus’ forearm, his face twisted in disgust.
“It smells like rotting chicken guts,” Cyrus whispered, fighting theurge to vomit.
They found the dragon curled up on a dark rock in the middle of hischamber. The blackened ceiling bore scars from his horned crown, and his legs dangled awkwardly off the foot ofhis stone bed.
“I discovered this cave years ago,” Dracheboomed, “It was inhabited by a much smaller dragon.I claimed the dwelling as my own and called out the puny beast. The battlelasted mere moments, and in the end, I stood victorious over the whelp. I swepthis carcass from the cliff like crumbs from a table.”
The dragon’s thick, steely face beamed with pride.
Was that some kind ofthreat? Cyrus thought. His legs quivered as he followed Fibian into the main chamber of the serpent’s abode. Thedark grey of the froskman’s flesh andseal skin suit made him invisible, with the exceptionof his glowing, blue eyes.
“So tell me, child, how was it that a boy, a blodbadspider and a froskman came to face the Warrior Witchand survive?” Drache asked.
Cyrus looked to Edward. The furryspider stared back at him, his two eyes as big as coins. If Cyrus told the entiretruth, surely all three of them would end up in the dragon’s belly. But if helied and made himself sound heroic, would the beast be fooled? The image ofNiels lying dead on a cold log infiltrated his thoughts.
“I discovered that my island was a giant, fossilized turtle shell,” hesaid, steeling his nerves, “I tried towarn the mayor, but he wouldn’t listen. The shell fractured, and my island caved in on itself. Manysurvived, but we lost the whole village. The mayor blamed me for the cave-in,saying that I brought an evil curse uponour island. He sentenced me to death, but I escaped.”
“Giant turtle you say,” the dragon said, his eyes narrowing.
Growing hot, Cyrus drew the fleece cap from his head. He wiped his browand gestured to the small spider on his sleeve.
“My best friend Edward here joined me, andwe sailed out to find a new home. That’s when we came across a creature thatcalled herself Rorroh. She welcomed me aboard herboat, fed me poisoned tea and tied me up below deck. Fibianfound me and cut me loose and -”
“And together,” Fibian interrupted, “we foughtour way out of her ship, defeating the Warrior Witch and set her vesselablaze.”
“If you were able to cut off her hand, why did you not just kill her?”the dragon asked.
“You especially should know that that is an impossible task,” Fibian replied, “the boy needs time and training if he isto achieve his destiny.”
“So, what do you propose?” Drache said.
“These islands are riddled withthe Warrior Witch’s minions,” Fibian said, “We needsafe passage, somewhere far from her reach, where I can train the boy.”
He drew from his collar a small glass vial he had slung around his neck.
“And we need your blood.”
Blood? What was Fibian playing at? And where had he gotten that vial? Rorroh’s ship?
“Tell me you do not believe in that hogwash?” Drachesnorted.
“The prophecy says that, in a time of great need, the chosen one willdrink a vial of dragon’s blood to strengthen him, when all strength is lost,” Fibian said, as a matter of fact.
“It may save the one, yes, but to all others, it will give a slow andagonizing death,” Drache growled, “burning you alivefrom within as if you’ve swallowed molten rock.”
“Will you give us some?” Fibian continued.
“We will see,” the dragon said, seeming to measure Cyrus, “but what willyou do once you’ve had your safe passage, and the boy’s received his training?”
“When his training is complete, he will hunt down the witch and rid theseas of her tyranny.”
“Do you have a place in mind for this training? the dragon asked.
“No, but we need somewhere where the Warrior Witch would never think tolook for us,” Fibian said.
“I will ponder your requests,” the dragon purred, “In the meantime, letme rest.”
Cyrus could not believe his luck. The dragon was going to help themescape. Then once they were safe, far from the Sea Zombie and her spies, he andEdward could get away from the mad froskman and livea life of peace.
He thought about Fibian, about the risks the froskman had taken for them. A deep guilt began to simmer in his heart.
“Come on,” Edward said, “I’m tired too.”
The trio found a place to bed down near the mouth of the cave, away fromthe den’s putrid stink.
“Why didn’t you mention dragon’s blood before?” Cyrus asked.
“Without actually having any, I did not think it necessary,” Fibian replied.
“Drinking it causes a slow and agonizing death?” Cyrus said.
“Only for the unworthy,” Fibian replied, hisvoice a low hum, “Now try to sleep,” the froskman laydown with his back against the cave wall, “With any luck, we will be airborneby daybreak.”
Cyrus used his cap as a pillow against the cold, granite floor. Theywere so close to escape. His shouldersbegan to relax.
“Everything’s going to be all right, isn’t it?” Edward said, curling upon Cyrus’ forearm.
***
IN THE BOWELS OF THE CAVERN,away from the trio, Drache picked through a pile ofbone, gold, and steel. There, he found a crystalorb. The tiny sphere was like a pebble in his claws. A dim, green ember glowedwithin its womb. He gazed into its center.
“So, Mistress, he cleaved off your hand and lit your shipablaze,” the dragon chuckled.
“Bring him to me, sssnake,” theorb spoke.
Drache’s slickscales gleamed in the emerald light.
“I envy the child’s boldness,” he said, in a low purr, “It is a shame hemust die.”
Chapter 24
A FOOL’S BARGAIN
THE NEXT MORNING Cyrus wokeup cold as stone. He looked out of the cave entrance and saw grey skiesthreatening rain. His belly growled, andhis head throbbed. He rolled to his side and grimaced. The welt on his ribsfelt like a knife wound.
“Edward, you up?” he asked, searching his jacket for his friend.
The
