“Fibian,” Cyrus shrieked, his eyes and noserunning, “NO!”
He was losing Niels all over again.
Chapter 30
SACRIFICE
CYRUS AND EDWARD WATCHED helplesslyas the klappen dragged Fibian’slimp body into the forest. Only a handful of the diseased creatures remained toobserve the two fugitives as they drifted out with the ebbing tide.
“Is he dead?” Edward asked, his voice wavering.
The small spider began to shiver on Cyrus’ shoulder.
“He can’t be,” Cyrus said, wiping tears from his eyes.
He looked down at the klappen blood all overhis hands.
“Rorroh stabbed him through the heart, and he survived. He just can’t be dead.”
Fibian had received the chest woundrescuing Cyrus and Edward from Rorroh. Now her crazedminions were carrying the froskman away, and therewas nothing Cyrus could do about it.
“What do we do now?” Edward asked, huddling into a furry ball.
Cyrus could not think straight. Fibian wassupposed to take them north, to the safety of the Yeti Kingdom. But Drache had double-crossedthem and led them straight to Rorroh. Why had they trusteda dragon? What choice had they had? Had Edward reallykilled the beast?
Now they were stranded alone in aleaky boat, off the shore of some unknown island. And Rorroh’sship was nearby, within a secluded cove, overlooked by a looming, cliff-topcastle. What would Rorroh do once the klappen got Fibian inside the castlewalls?
“This can’t be happening,” Cyrus said, rubbing his damp eyes with the heelsof his hands.
He fought back the urge to cry. Why had Fibiansacrificed himself? Cyrus was no legendary savior. He was just a boy. He justwanted to live in peace.
Fibian was mad. Maybe he deserved todie. If Cyrus and Edward tried to save the froskman,both would be captured and murdered. Sure, Cyrus had managed to defeat one klappen, but Fibian and Edwardhad helped. Cyrus had slashed the creature’s throat. There had been so much blood. Cyrus’ stomach began to roll. He forcedthe thought from his mind.
Rorroh would surely kill Fibian, but not before she first had her revenge. She wasgoing to boil me alive, Cyrus thought, what will she do to Fibian? He recalled Niels’ cold body lying limp on thelog. He could not lose another brother. It was all too much.
“We can’t just sit here,” Edward said, “We have to do something.”
It was like the day Virkelot caved in all overagain. Was Cyrus really going to stand bywhile another person he cared about died? Deepanger rose in his belly. He clenched his teeth and balled his fists.
“We are going to do something,” Cyrus said, “We’re going to get Fibian.”
Chapter 31
THE FORTRESS
CYRUS AND EDWARD DISCUSSED theirrescue plan while the slender boat danced with the tide. The small group of remainingklappen monitored their prey from the shoreline. Thenight grew long. Cyrus and Edward slept little. Then morning broke, and the sun began to rise. The fugitiveswatched with relief as the grotesque creatures retreated to the protection ofsome dark dwelling. Probably the castle, Cyrus thought. The hairs on hisneck prickled.
“It’s time,” he said, taking a deep breath.
Cyrus began to paddle back towards the beach. His eyes were scratchywith exhaustion. Was this a good idea? The morning sun was hidden behind grey clouds, andthe wind swept west. Their craft hit thebeach with a sandy crunch. Cyrus watched the trees for an ambush. Fibian never told him what happened to klappenif they were caught out in the daylight.
“I think they’re really gone,” Edwardsaid, crawling on top of Cyrus’ hat.
Cyrus hopped out of the boat and slowly made his way up the shore. Thebeach was littered with their dead andbattered foes. Under the light of the grey, morning sky, the carcasses began tosmoke and smolder. The stink brought Cyrus to his knees, heaving. So that iswhat sunlight did to klappen.
“Try to hold your breath,” Edward said, “The faster we’re done, the sooner we can leave.
Cyrus wiped his mouth and rose to his feet. He made his way towards thehuts. There, where Fibian had made his last stand,was the bow and quiver. Cyrus picked them up and inspected each. Both had beentrampled and roughed up, but they would work.
“Thank the Angels,” Cyrus whispered, “We’ll need all the help we canget.”
Next, he moved towards two bodies with arrows through their chests.Cyrus crouched down beside the nearest. He caught a whiff of the smoking bodyand threw up in his mouth. Coughing and spitting, he held his breath. Then hegrasped the shaft near the entry wound; twisted and pulled. Wet muscle andtendon bit and snapped at the arrow, but finally,it tore free. He inspected the projectile. It stunk of burnt, putrid meat, butit would fly true.
In the end, Cyrus collected sixteen arrows in total. He cleaned them allas best he could in the ocean. Then they climbed back into their boat and setoff north in the direction of the castle.
The beach seemed to span the coast for miles, watched over by a darkjungle that might harbor all sorts of spies or assassins. Finally, sand andtree gave way to sheer, towering cliffs. Seabirdssquawked and circled above, darting into cracks in the rock. Waves crashedagainst stone, sending sea spray into theair. Cyrus’ hands and face grew coarse with sea salt. Around every corner, he hopedand feared he would spot Rorroh’s ship. Then, atmid-day, they did…
Amongst the cliffs was a secluded bay with a narrow mouth and widebelly. Cyrus’ eyes fixed on Rorroh’s vessel. Itappeared black and lifeless. Was there movement within?Cyrus could see nothing obvious, but there was no way of telling what eyes maybe spying from which crack.
“Over there,” Edward said, crawling across Cyrus’ shoulder.
How had Cyrus missed it? Within the bay, set into the stonewall, the sealapped at a massive, steel
