She cast thebloody slush to the ground. Cyrus felt his nerves tingle. He mounted thebridge-way, careful of the rat and squirrel bones scattered across the deck. Hereached the edge and retrieved his ill-aimed bolt. The enemy nest smelled ofouthouse and rotten egg.
“Hurry,” Tierdemanded.
Cyrus leaped fromthe bridge and found his second bolt in a nearby tree.
Tier pushedon, tracking the water klops through powdery snow. Thetrail remained winding and narrow, with cliffs and trees on either side, ripefor ambush. As they sped around a fallen boulder, the creature’s printsvanished. Tier looked to the canyon walls.
“It must havetaken to the rock,” she said.
Cyrus heardthe thrum of a crossbow’s lath. He and Tier ducked instinctively. The enemybolt zinged overhead. Cyrus spied the klops ahead upthe path. Cyrus took a knee, flicked his yellow hair from his eyes, and fired.The creature scrambled off the rock like a frightened cat.
Tier sprangforward. Cyrus followed. They leaped upon the klops’perch. The fiend was gone, but dark, purplish blood stained the snow.
“You hit it,”Tier said.
Cyrus staredat the blood. It reminded him of the first life he had taken on the klappen island. He had slashed the creature’s throat. Hehad defeated the beast. He had won. He felt anticipation pumping through hisveins. Is this what Edward felt?
The huntersascended higher into the mountains, entering a thick fog. Snow started to fallin sheets. Tier donned leather and copper goggles. The water klops’ trail grew faint, then vanished again.
Tier pausedand put an index finger to her lips. Cyrus felt sweat drip down his brow. Hestood still as a tree. He heard a branch crack from the woods to their right.Then a rock bounced off a tree trunk to their left.
“We must getoff the trail,” Tier whispered.
She led theway forward. They climbed up the pass, searching for a route out of the gulch. Thesteep walls began to recede as the path leveled off.
“Do you smellthat?” Cyrus whispered.
It was thescent of wood smoke. Tier nodded. She unshouldered her crossbow and charged theweapon. They crept low. Cyrus fanned his crossbow left to right. They neared aclearing. Cyrus heard the snap of a crackling fire. Tier loaded her weapon witha bolt and locked it into place.
To theirright, they discovered a small campfire burning against a craggy backdrop.Cyrus peered about in search of the fire’s maker. He found only snow and trees.He turned to Tier. The giant’s expression became haunted. Cyrus followed theyeti’s gaze back to the fire.
“Mountaintroll…” Tier whispered.
She shoulderedher crossbow and raised her rifle towards the fire.
Cyrus’ headswiveled, searching the clearing. Nothing. Then it moved. A hulking mass ofwhite and brown sat hunched on a log beside the glowing flames. The creature’sstout body was covered in a moss-like fur with parasitic twigs and branchesgrowing from its snow-covered back and bearded head.
“It was therethe whole time?” Cyrus gasped.
He aimed atthe brute. The creature raised its muddy hand and, with its index finger,welcomed them to the fire. Its sooty, wrinkled face grinned with brown, crookedteeth, and its tiny yellow eyes glared with wanting.
“As children,we were warned of this,” Tier said, “It’s a trap.”
The creaturebegan to grunt and chuckle as it picked at its large, pockmarked nose. Anothermountain troll emerged from the woods to their left. It held a large bow andarrow, charged and at the ready. From their right came a third. The twelve-footgiant wielded a dead tree trunk.
“What do wedo?” Cyrus asked, shifting his aim from troll to troll.
“You die,”spat a high-pitched voice.
Thewispy-haired water klops staggered from the forest.The fiend clutched its pierced belly with its bloody left hand. With its right,it aimed its crossbow at Cyrus’ head.
Chapter 11
TROLLS
THE WATER KLOPS’ FINGERS tightened around thecrossbow’s lever.
“An attack onthe Queen’s guard is the same as an attack on the Queen herself.”
The fiendbegan to squeeze the trigger.
“Stygl,” ordered the troll, sitting nearest the fire.
The skinniest ofthe three brutes, holding the bow and arrow, turned his aim on the water klops. Stygl’s fur was patchy inplaces, with only a few twigs growing from his back.
“What isthis?” the injured klops asked, the gills in his neckflaring.
“The yeti andits little friend are ours,” the campfire troll growled, “Leave now, while youstill can.”
“These trespassersmust pay for what they have done,” the water klopsscreeched.
His ratty eyesshifted between Cyrus and the trolls.
“Their headsare to be prizes for the Queen.”
The klops too wore yeti-made armor, but to its misfortune, theplating only protected its chest and left arm, leaving its stomach exposed.
“You won’tsurvive the night with that wound, cannibal,” Styglsneered, putting a gnarled thumb to his nostril and clearing his nose, “Sobugger off and die, and stop wasting our time.”
The klops’ face tightened with pain and rage.
“Over my deadbones, you inbred swine.”
“Heslig,” the campfire troll ordered.
The largest ofthe three trolls brought his club down hard over the klops’head. The villain’s entire body crumpled under the blow and became like mincedham. His arrow fired off into a nearby rock and shattered.
“What inKingdom?” Cyrus breathed, his legs becoming jelly.
“Heslig, you idiot,” Stygl barked,“How are we supposed to cook him now?”
The trollnearest the fire raised a bow and arrow towards Tier.
“Don’t call mean idiot,” Heslig snarled, his deep voice distortedby a thick underbite.
“What now,Grim?” Stygl asked.
“Tie ‘em up,” the campfire troll said.
Heslig moved to take Tier’s weapon. The yeti refocused her aim on the advancingtroll. Cyrus heard Grim’s bow tighten.
“I’ll put anarrow right through your neck,” he warned.
Cyrus’ heartdrummed in his chest. They were trapped! He dropped his crossbow. Tier growled,then did the same. Heslig forced both chest-first tothe ground. The snow was impossibly cold on Cyrus’ face. Heslighuffed in his ear. The creature smelled like rotten cabbage mixed with footycheese. We’re going to die, Cyrus thought. He pictured his brother,Niels, months before, hanging from that fracture in the earth. Had he sufferedin death?
“Don’t bruisethe meat,” Stygl squawked.
Heslig grunted, then hogtied Cyrus and Tier with twine.
“Gut and skinthe klops, I’ll ready the spit,” Grim ordered.
“But themeat’s all squashed,” Stygl whined, “Let’s cook oneof these two instead.”
“Then what arewe going to have for breakfast?” Grim shouted. “Now get to it.”
Chapter 12
MISFIRE
DAY BECAME NIGHT.
