“I drankdragon’s blood and lived,” he said, “I cut off her head and both hands. Sheshould be dead. How far behind us could she be?”
“We have time,”Fibian replied, “We have slowed her advance, and shehas tipped her hand to us. Once we find this giant hune,we can lead it to your people, save your village, and fulfill your destiny.”
“You said mydestiny was to defeat Rorroh, scatter her ashes acrossthe sea. How do you stop something that can’t be killed?”
Fibian did not answer.
Cyrus thoughtof his bewitched village, trapped on the crumbling shell of a giant, fossilizedturtle. Cyrus had trespassed over the dead fence. He had discovered that his peoplelived on the back of a long-deceased turtle-like creature called a hune. The skeleton was decaying and would soon crumble intothe sea.
Cyrus’ peoplewould not heed his warnings. Instead, they blamed his trespass for hisbrother’s death and their village’s destruction. It was Sarah Heiler alone who had risked all to help Cyrus escape execution.He owed her so much.
Would Cyrus’people accept his aid upon a successful return? They would have no otherchoice. That is if they had not yet drowned, or if the Sea Zombie had not yetkilled them.
“We need tostitch your suit,” Cyrus said, nodding to the several cuts in Fibian’s whale skin wetsuit.
“When MasterEdward recovers,” Fibian replied, “I will ask him todo me the honor of spinning his silk and mending the damage himself.”
The froskman spoke more to the furry, white spider curled inhis webbed hand.
Cyrus wantedto press Fibian further about Edward’s health. Hewanted to know what more they could do to help, but Fibianwas no doctor. He was a froskman, a born hunter-killer,once under Rorroh’s command. Badgering him would onlymake matters worse.
“Do you thinkwe’re sailing in the right direction?” Cyrus asked.
Fibian peered up at the night sky.
“I believeso,” he said, “but I would feel much better with Master Edward’s assistance.”
Cyrus noddedagreement. They would never have gotten this far without Edward’s heightenedsense of direction.
“It’s so cold,and it’s only going to get colder,” Cyrus said, pulling his fleece cap tightover his blond hair and pointed ears.
“Yes, I amconcerned about that too,” Fibian replied, “but atthe very least, the cold is holding Master Edward’s fever at bay.”
The froskman’s chattering teeth added to the hum in his voice.
Fibian passed Cyrus a small leather bag.
“Eat, it will giveyou warmth and strength.”
Cyrus drewfour tidal nuts from the pouch. They smelled over ripened, like shrivelinggrapes.
“Is this allthat’s left?”
“Yes,” Fibian said, his dark gray flesh gaunt and goose-pimpled.
Cyrus heart sunk.They were starving. Fibian would have to dive formore food if they were to live. Cyrus studied Fibian’swasted form. Could the froskman survive anotherplunge into the icy sea? Unless he could think of another way, they would soonfind out.
Chapter 3
THE COLD
FOR FIVE DAYS, the trio continued northon a snowy sea. Their rations were spent, their bones were chilled, and theirdestination, the Yeti Kingdom, was nowhere in sight.
Cyrus stood atthe ship’s tiller, watching the chalky green ocean.
“That’s enough,”he shouted, “It’s too cold and deep for anything to survive down there. You’regoing to get yourself killed.”
Fibian teetered at the edge of the portside railing, wet and pale. The largegills in his ribcage flared with each inhale.
“We must not giveup,” he said, “We must find food.”
He drew a deepbreath and dove into the slushy ocean.
“Stupid idiot,”Cyrus said, through clenched teeth, “He’s going to freeze to death.”
Cyrus pulledhis blanket tight around himself and hugged Edward to his bony chest. His eyesscanned the misty waters.
“F- Fibian, hurry,” he said, his anxiety rising.
An angry windswept the boat. Snow swirled the mast. Moment after moment passed. In the distance,a fork of lightning pierced the heavens. Thunder roared like a demon across thecloudy sky. Cyrus’ eyes began to droop. Then his head started to nod. He shookaway the drowsiness, willing Fibian to return. Hisshipmate was nowhere to be found, or was he? A dark shape bobbed to thesurface. It was just off the vessel’s port side.
“Fibian?”
The froskman did not move.
“FIBIAN!”
Fear chargedCyrus’ limbs. He ripped the blanket from his shoulders, curled Edward withinits folds, and set both down next to the tiller. Cyrus ran to the ship’srailing. He tied a mooring line around his waist and gathered all the breath hecould muster. Then he dove into the sea.
The cold oceanbit at his every sense. His mind flashed blinding white, his head ached as ifpierced by a spike, and his chest constricted, refusing to take in breath. Cyrusfought to keep his head above the surface. Panic electrified his system. Heswam to Fibian and flipped him over.
“Fibian?” Cyrus shouted, “Fibian!”
The froskman coughed up a mouthful of water. His glowing blueeyes opened a sliver.
“Land, closeby,” he whispered.
In his lefthand, he raised a kelp bulb out of the sea. Cyrus grabbed the kelp. He inspectedit, then looked about. Land, where? All he saw was sea and fog.Lightening flashed in the distance.
Fibian went limp. The wind began to blow, and waves started to rise. Cyrusthrew the bulb aside and clutched Fibian around thechest. The boat was close within reach, but the water felt heavy and grasping.
Cyrus yankedhard on the mooring line, dragging Fibian backtowards the ship. He reached the vessel and pulled the froskmanup the mesh ladder. It took the last of his reserves to heft Fibian over the railing. He dug his heels in and hauled himinto the ship’s cabin.
Pots and pans,hooked to the walls, clanged and crashed as the ship rode the bucking sea. Cyruslaid Fibian against a wooden cupboard and wrapped himin a wool blanket.
Cyrus’ lungswere raw and gasping. He wanted to collapse, curl up into a ball. He rememberedEdward.
Cyrus took adeep breath. He forced himself back through the cabin door and towards the tiller.Thunder boomed overhead. The blanket still lay on the deck. Edward looked likea fluffy snowflake within. Cyrus gathered both Edward and the blanket up andmade for the cabin. Beyond the bow, emerging through the mists, he spotted foamingwaves crashing over a jagged reef.
“NO!”
Where had thereef come from?
Cyrus ran backand gripped the ship’s tiller. He spun it hard right and braced himself. Thevessel cut right, its portside
