“Rorroh’s ship,” Fibianwhispered, “It must be sunk.”
“Why?” Cyrus asked, “She’s dead.”
Fibian shook his head.
“You cannot kill that which does not live.”
Cyrus grew cold and sweaty. He looked back, towards the tunnel they hadjust escaped. Then he inspected the deck for something to sink a ship. He foundcoils of rope, un-scrubbed deck boards, the ship’s tiller, but no weapons. Heventured within the small cabin at thestern of the vessel. The space was dustyand cornered with cobwebs. He searched a table nook, shelves, and several cabinets. On a grimy windowsill, hefound an oil lamp and tinderbox. Careful not to ignite the room, Cyrus usedflint and steel to light the tinder. Then he lit a match on the tinder and ignitedthe lamp. He walked back to Fibian.
“This might work.”
The vessel passed through the towering threshold, the mast barelyclearing the door. The black ship still rested within the harbor, awaiting itsmaster. Cyrus manned the tiller and steered the drifting craft closer to Rorroh’s. He grasped the lantern and climbed up on thegunwale, holding the ship’s rigging forsupport. Both vessels were similar in height. Cyrus waited until he passed nearthe very cabin in which Rorroh had drugged him. Heremembered all the salves and elixirs kept in her small galley. Some of themmust be flammable, he hoped.
He cast the lamp through the cabin window, shattering the glass. Theescaping vessel drifted past, further out to sea. Cyrus stared back at theblack ship. Nothing. They continued onthrough the narrow waterway, flanked by towering cliffs. Would they have to go back?They sailed beyond the cliffs, out into open water. Rorroh’sboat still floated unharmed. Cyrus had been too rash, too reckless. He had tosink that ship. He peered back one last time.
“Fibian, do you see that?”
He looked to the froskman. Fibianhad passed out on the sail. Cyrus looked back, squinting. A thread of greyseemed to issue from the black ship. Was that smoke? He needed a closer look.
Cyrus saw the explosion before he heard it. The side of the ship’s hullblew out as if struck by cannon fire. Then a great KA-BOOM echoed over the sea. Fire spewed out of theport side hole. The ship was burning.
Chapter 40
THE END?
CYRUS’ BODY SAGGED with relief.The vessel began to take on water. Great clouds of raging steam swirled andwound with the black smoke. Cyrus breathed deep. They would not have to turnback, and Rorroh could not follow them.
He watched for a long time as the boat burned, slowly slipping deeperand deeper beneath the sea.
He could not believe he had done it. Somehow Fibianhad been right. Cyrus had defeated the Sea Zombie. He could never have done italone, but he had done it.
He thought of his home. He thought of his brother Niels, of Sarah. Hemissed them so much. He thought of his stepmother and Hoblkalf.He pictured the villagers. They had caused the island to cave in and had blamed him for it. They had run himoff, tried to murder him. But was it reallytheir fault? By Rorroh’s own admission, wasn’t she truly to blame? Was it not she who hadfirst murdered the very giant his people had called home? Was it not she, allthose generations ago, who had haunted and terrorized his people, confused anddisfigured their past, made them petty and weak?
Cyrus had been chased from his ownhome. He had been run off, right into Rorroh’schild-eating grasp. If it had not been for Fibian, heand Edward would surely be dead.
But they had not died. They hadescaped, escaped to a once two-headed dragon. They had made a deal with the beast.If the dragon would fly them north to theYeti Kingdom, Cyrus and company would rid the seas of Rorroh’styranny.
It had been a fool’s bargain, and in the end, they had been double-crossed. Instead of being taken tothe safety of the yeti, they had beendropped in hostile territory, surrounded by the blood-suckingklappen. And to make things worse, Cyrus and Edwardhad lost their leader. The only one who knew what to do, the one that hadtaught them everything, gone, captured by those vile creatures.
But somehow, Cyrus and Edward had discovered the klappen’slair. And somehow, even after learning of Rorroh’spresence, they had found the courage to go in after their friend. And Fibian had been right. Not only did the dragon’s blood not killCyrus, but it also saved his life. Whenall hope was lost, it mended his brokenbody. It gave him strength beyond any he could imagine. He had fought Rorroh hand-to-hand, eye-to-eye, and he had taken her head…
He thought of his broken bones and felt his nose. What had once been narrowand straight felt jagged and scarred. His nose had healed, but would forever be marked. A small price to pay compared towhat Fibian had lost.
And what of Edward? Edward had thrown himself at the witch and attackedher without fear or mercy. Cyrus drew the small spider from his pocket. Hestroked the blue skull-and-crossbones marked acrosshis now white fur. Would he live? Would he ever be the same?
Cyrus thought of Rorroh, lying in pieces onthe floor of that savage torture chamber. According to Fibian,she was not dead; could not be killed.That meant she was coming; would never stop coming, until Cyrus’ people were enslaved in her soulless hell.
Cyrus gritted his teeth and felt a low ache in his mended jaw. He woulddie before he let that happen. He would give every last piece of himself beforehe let Rorroh take another life from him.
Cyrus walked to the mast, untied the rigging and set the mainsail. Theywere heading out into the North Sea. Theywould weather whatever the winter sea could throw at them. They were going insearch of the Yeti Kingdom, the giant hune, and theywere going to rescue Cyrus’ people. And if Rorroh gotin their way, he would cut her up into so many tiny pieces that even the AngelKing would not be able to make her whole.
There was only one problem with Cyrus’ plan. He did not know how far theSea Zombie’s crippled grasp reached, did
