“Fight me,” the froskman roared, throughbloody teeth.
Rorroh stepped forward and, fromwithin her cloak, flung a fistful of powder in his battered face. Fibian was momentarily frozen. Rorrohlashed out with Cyrus’ blade and slashed the froskman’sthroat.
“No!” Cyrus screamed.
Fibian clutched his neck, bloodbubbling from his lips. With one last gasp, he reached for her robes, splittingthe hem of her right shoulder. She grasped his wrist and forced his arm to abutcher’s block.
“Seeing as you choose to fight his battles,” Rorrohspat, gesturing to Cyrus, “maybe you would like to pay his debts as well.”
Rorroh held Cyrus’ knife high in theair.
“Fibian,” Cyrus cried.
Fibian made a fist, trying to tearhis arm free. Rorroh wielded the weapon like a seasonedbutcher. She chopped Fibian’s right hand off, midforearm.
“Fibian,” Edward cried.
The froskman’s body slid formlessto the floor.
What’s happening? Cyrusthought. What has Rorroh done?
The witch stood panting, her front covered in arterial spray.
“Did he tell you the company you keep?” Rorrohasked Cyrus.
She tossed the bloody hand and knife to the floor. Cyrus stared at theweapon. It was his, the knife he had found in Jim OddFoot’sdwelling. She had cut Fibian’s throat with it; mutilatedhim with it. And Cyrus had just watched.
Cyrus’ world began to spin. It could not be. This could not be happening. How could she have done that? And howcould he have just watched? Cyrus felt compelled to run. But he also feltsomething else. Anger. He let the anger rise and take over. He welcomed the sensation.
“Fibian told us of MorHav’s army, and about the blodbadspiders. He told us what you are.”
“Ahhh, but he did not tell you everything because even he did not know all.”
The witch began to giggle and cough.
“Did you know your people were once a proud and happy folk, and thatyour little ssspider friend’s kin helpedchange all that?”
She wiped at her bony cheek, smearing blood and white makeup.
“What are you talking about?” Cyrus demanded.
Rorroh hobbled forward, her fleshreeking of spoiled meat.
“I am talking about revenge, boy. I am talking about murder. I loved theAngel King. All I wanted was to serve at his side. I, the most beautifulcreature in all of creation. And for that, he turned me into this.”
She stood before Cyrus, bald, hunched and twisted, her tattered robeshanging from her fleshy bones.
“So, I took what was most precious to him, and I drained them of all that was good and righteousss.”
Her neck cracked and popped.
“Your people were once tall and vibrant, and your island strong and fullof life.”
Confusion added to Cyrus’ rage.
“Do you understand, boy? You are living proof of your kinsmen’s long forgotten glory. You are athrowback to what they once were. Your people are the tortured descendants ofthe once proud hune alves.”
“That’s impossible,” Cyrus whispered.
His hand drifted to the point of his right ear.
“Is it?” Rorroh asked, “Your village was built on a giant shelled creature called a hune. And that hune had a name,Uriel. Uriel loved and cherished your people as if they were her own. And yourpeople adored her as children do their ownmother. Uriel traveled the oceans, delivering the hunealves to the most beautiful places in allof creation. And the alves farmed, fedand cared for the giant. They lived in balance and harmony, a most happy and charmed family, and the AngelKing’s dearest creation.”
A look of mock pity contorted Rorroh’sgangrenous face.
“It was in these creatures that I decided to begin my revenge on the AngelKing.”
Rorroh clenched her remaining fistso tight, Cyrus thought the knuckles might burst.
“Long ago, I waited until the hune crossed overa large reef. Then I had my blodbad spiders poisonthe giant.”
“No,” Edward gasped.
“The hune died a slow and painful death,” Rorroh continued, “her flesh turning to sand. But the giantdid not sink, and your people were left stranded and heartbroken in the middleof the sea.
“With the help of my armies, I surrounded and terrified the hune alves until theybuilt a giant wall around their village and, havingfarmed and cared for the hune their whole lives, their hands becamerestless, and they began to cut and dig at the earth like rodents.”
Rorroh clawed at the air with herremaining fingers.
“Why didn’t you just kill us and get it over with?” Cyrus asked.
Rorroh hissed, “I do not want yourlives, I want your soulsss. I have founda flaw in the Angel King’s design. I havefooled your people into self-imprisonment, and I have driven them to self-destruction.Always, they could have done as you did and left the island to find fertileland, but they have let their fears be their undoing. Rather than sacrifice andfight for what is right, they have lost all courage and been fooled into misery and self-loathing. And with the fall ofyour village, your people will beg to join my army, and I will be so very closeto making this Kingdom mine.”
Rorroh stood triumphant, her blackeyes wide and frenzied.
Cyrus gritted his teeth.
“That’s not true. You haven’t fooled me.”
“Yes, but you are a coward. You abandon friends and family to save your own skin. Your life is forfeited. Your soul ismine.”
Cyrus felt as if Rorroh had ripped out hisheart. He shut his eyes tight, wanting to hear no more.
“There is another detail I have yet to mention,” Rorrohcontinued, “Something else that makes my plan truly ingenious. Like I, wheneverthe Angel King created a female, he also created a male.”
Cyrus looked up and gasped, “The hune?”
Drache had told the truth.
“That is right, boy, there were two. Two hune,and two villages of hune alvesss. When I killed the female, I let the male live.”
“There’s another village of hune alves?” Cyrus asked.
“Not quite,” Rorroh said.
A craggy smirk split across her face.
“Gabriel still lives, but his people are long dead. I had my blodbad poison them the same time they killed Uriel. Thepoor hune is miserable and alone. He searches theoceans for another village to again make him whole, but he is growing weak, and I fear very soon, his sorrows may drag himdown to a watery grave. If only your people
