“Walk like it does,” Edwardwhispered.
Cyrus hunched low and bent like an old man. If this thing exposed them,there would be no escape. He continued in the direction of the screams, tryingto avoid the creature without appearing conspicuous. The klappen’spath began to meander closer. It started to sniff the air and seemed toscrutinize Cyrus’ trousers and boots. It walked so close that Cyrus could have kissedit. It passed on in search of its tiny prey.
Cyrus continued along the hallway, picking up his pace and looking overhis shoulder.
“No,” Edward hissed.
Cyrus bumped into something bony and sour. His headdress fell as he spunforward. A klappen two feet taller than himselfshrieked in rage. It must have followed its kin through the left, side passage.It snapped at Cyrus’ face. Cyrus ducked low and to the side, slashing at thecreature’s throat. He cut it across the nose. It squealed and clutched at itseyes. The first klappen abandoned its hunt andwhirled to attack. Cyrus dove through the passageway. To his relief, he foundthe threshold defended by double doors. He slammed the doors tight, securing themwith a bar of timber.
“What now?” Edward said, panicking.
The doors began to shake and shudder like mad drums. Cyrus spun aboutlooking for an escape. A single wall torch illuminated the chamber and the airstank like a well-used outhouse. In the center of the room, a stairway descendedto another pair of doors. Something warm and heavy slopped onto Cyrus’shoulder. A half-eaten rat fell at his feet.
“Cyrus,” Edward whispered, desperation in his voice.
Wood beams creaked overhead. Cyrus looked up. At first, he thought hesaw a ceiling of golden stars. Then he realized that the wavering points oflights were reflections off of many, many pairs of eyes. One of the klappen bared its teeth and shrieked like a demon. Cyrusstaggered back, then sprinted down the stairs. He bargedhis way into the cell beyond. He turned and bolted the cold, steel lock. Hepressed his shoulder to the doors and waited for the inevitable battering tobegin. No attempt to breach the room came. Cyrus placed an ear to the wood.Silence. Then something spoke.
“Run…”
Chapter 34
THE OLD WOMAN
CYRUS TURNED IN THE DIRECTIONof the voice. The chamber was cold, dank and ill-litby dying candles weeping over craggy ledges and grimy countertops. He smelled something sweet, yet foul in the air. Thenit struck him. It was the scent of fear.
He searched the darkness. Several rusted manacles draped against thedamp walls, and the odd meat hook jangled overhead.
“Fibian,” Edward cried.
At the room’s center, Fibian lay strapped to athick, wooden chair.
“Angels,” Cyrus gasped, “What happened?”
Candlelight illuminated Fibian’s sharpfeatures. He was haggard, a ghost of himself. His face was bloody and battered,his nose broken and eyes swollen. Deep lacerations outlined his brow and cheekbones.The way he sat, Cyrus suspected his ribs werebroken.
“Run,” Fibian repeated, wheezing, “Before shereturns.”
He moved his head, gesturing to the rear of the room.
Cyrus rushed to Fibian’s side. He began to unbucklethe leather straps around his wrists. Long dried blood stained the chair’s deepgrain.
“No, go - now,” Fibian coughed, bloodspattering his lips.
Cyrus unstrapped the froskman’sankles, contemplating their escape. The only way out was the stairway, but thatwas suicide. Yet if they stayed…
Cyrus hefted Fibian out of the chair and hauledhim to the double doors. He was amazed by how light the froskmanfelt. Fibian still had the vial of dragon’s bloodaround his neck.
“Get ready to run,” Cyrus whispered.
“No,” Fibian begged.
“Cyrus,” Edward pleaded, digging his seven legs into his friend’sshoulder.
Cyrus unbolted the steel lock. Something heavy clicked behind them.Cyrus turned. Beyond the shadows, a hidden door in the back wall began to edgeopen. Then a long, spidery hand reached through the crack. Cyrus’ legs grewweak. A bald, crooked, old woman emerged through the passage.
“The Sea Zombie,” Edward gasped.
The witch’s white powdered face and wooden, costume nose were spattered with dried blood. She grinnedlike a snarling wolf. The rip in her membrane-thin cheeks exposed dark, decayinggums.
She began to move forward with a cripple’s gait, but Cyrus was not fooled. He knew crushing strength hidbeneath the grey, tattered robes. The small, bulbous-eyed Aghamoregroveled at her side.
She looked at Cyrus through black, oily eyes, their deep sockets drilledinto jutting cheekbones.
“Murderer…” she said in a breathless whisper, “Thiefff!” she spat, as she raised theblackened stump of her maimed right arm.
Cyrus felt his insides turn liquid. All strength left his limbs.
Chapter 35
RETRIBUTION
SHAKING, CYRUS DREW HIS KNIFE.
“Did you know I can still feel it?” Rorrohasked.
Black bile dripped from her narrow chin.
“Did you know that my hand still lives in the belly of some sea creature?Even now I can feel it crushing the fishy’s coldinnards.”
Cyrus’ muscles tensed. He dug his toes into the ground, preparing forthe onslaught. Then he felt the knife stripped from his grip. Fibian shoved him aside.
“For the last time, run!”
The froskman leapedat Rorroh, brandishing Cyrus’ blade. Aghamore intercepted the attack, drawing his own knife. Fibianslashed out but overcommitted. Aghamore parried the blowand sliced Fibian’s side. Fibiancountered with a backhanded stab but wasagain easily parried. Aghamore went for the throat but cut onlyshoulder. Fibian stood cringing, holding his ribs.
“What are you doing?” Cyrus cried.
“Giving you time to escape,” Fibian said,breathing heavily.
Aghamore lungedforward and stuck Fibian in the belly.
“Heal from this,” the water klops squealed,jerking the knife upwards.
Fibian winced, then clutched Aghamore by the throat. Aghamorepanicked, releasing the blade. Fibian squeezed sohard, Aghamore’s bulbous eyes looked about toexplode. Then, in a fit of rage, Fibian hurled thewater klops into a wooden beam. Dust shook from theceiling. The creature slid motionless to the floor, painting the beam red.
Fibian drew the klops’knife from his stomach and rounded on Rorroh. Hishands quivered.
“Cyrus, help him,” Edward begged.
Cyrus stood paralyzed.
Wielding two knives, Fibian rushed Rorroh. The froskman’susually sure-footed movements were awkward and forced. Rorrohslipped back, out of reach. Fibian flung Cyrus’ knifeat Rorroh’s head. The action came out of nowhere, hiddenby the deft roll of his shoulders. Still, Rorroh caughtthe weapon with ease. Fibian continued his advance asRorroh worked her way
